The Wicked Cousin

by Stella Riley

  As he crossed the main floor, he gradually became aware that he appeared to be the focus of a number of odd looks; some curious, some mildly disapproving and others clearly amused. It wasn’t until later, when Philip Vernon joined him for a glass of port that he understood the cause.

  ‘What’s all this about you knocking seven bells out of two or three young pups at Bedford House?’

  Sebastian gave a startled laugh. ‘What? I did no such thing.’

  ‘Well, it’s what everyone is saying. And there’s also talk of a mysterious lady in red who is supposedly at the heart of the matter. Depending on who you talk to, she either cast herself upon your chest in gratitude for your heroics or, having despatched your rivals, you damned near ravished her yourself.’ Philip shrugged. ‘Nick and I have been doing our best to squash it but it’s tricky because saying too much makes everything worse. You know what people are like.’

  Sebastian knew exactly what people were like. He said a shade grimly, ‘Is anyone putting a name to the lady?’

  ‘By now, they’ve put a dozen. Fortunately.’ A pause, and then, ‘Is there any truth in it?’

  ‘Very little. Three fellows fresh out of university and unable to judge their capacity for wine were importuning a lady and one of them was manhandling her. Since he didn’t heed a polite warning, I … repeated it more forcefully. His friends picked him up and took him away and the lady thanked me and returned to the ball.’

  ‘That’s it?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know where the rumours originated?’

  ‘No. It could have been anyone. And it’s been passed on so often now that you’ll never find out how it started.’ Philip grinned. ‘Isabel says Nell’s detailed you for escort duty tomorrow. You know that not a word of it is to pass our lips?’

  ‘Her ladyship’s note did mention it once or thrice. What I don’t understand is why, since I wasn’t here, she didn’t ask Nicholas instead.’

  ‘She did – but he refused point blank. And he spends less time here these days.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Quite. That’s exactly what the rest of us are thinking,’ agreed Philip obscurely. ‘Probably for the best though, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Almost certainly, I should think.’

  * * *

  Mr Audley collected his charges from Mount Street the following afternoon and discovered that there had been a belated addition to the party. Lady Elinor’s notes had told him to expect only married ladies; herself, Isabel Vernon, Althea Ingram and Lady Amberley. But there amongst them, looking wary and a little strained, was Cassandra; and Sebastian, wondering how much of the recent gossip had reached her ears, felt a knot of worry tighten in his chest.

  Inevitably, he had no opportunity to ask her. Monsieur and Mademoiselle Delacroix greeted their guests in the foyer of Sinclairs and the tour began with the main gaming floor. Once they had admired the comfort and restrained elegance of the décor and seen the private card rooms, Aristide explained the extremely simple rules of Hazard, produced some gaming chips and asked who would like to play. Unsurprisingly, everyone did – including, with Madeleine’s help, the Marchioness of Amberley. In no time at all, even shy Althea Ingram was laughing with the rest and clapping her hands when she won. Consequently, it was quite some time before Aristide could tempt the ladies away from the tables to the exclusive rooms upstairs where, in one of them, Madeleine had made preparations for a lavish tea to be served.

  ‘This is lovely,’ said Nell, eyeing the array of tiny cakes and pastries with enthusiasm. ‘But you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. It’s enough – more than enough – that you let us come here at all.’

  ‘It was no trouble. Gaspard, our chef, enjoys making fancies but there isn’t much call for them.’ Madeleine smiled. ‘I was to say that if anyone wished to visit the kitchens, he would be honoured to welcome you.’

  ‘And that,’ interposed Aristide gravely, ‘is not a thing he offers often. Or ever, in fact. To tell the truth, he barely tolerates me.’

  This provoked some laughter and a number of questions about the day-to-day running of an establishment such as this and the number of staff required.

  Finding herself seated next to Sebastian, Isabel Vernon said thoughtfully, ‘It isn’t at all what I expected. I imagined red velvet and gold cherubs, not blue brocade and mahogany. I suppose, having met Monsieur Delacroix, I ought to have known better.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘I’m assuming that you are a member, Mr Audley?’

  ‘Yes. In fact, I dined here last night – as your husband may have told you.’

  ‘He mentioned it, yes.’ She hesitated and then said quietly, ‘Don’t pay too much heed to the current gossip. As far as I can ascertain, the tale about the fight that apparently no one actually saw is circulating mostly among the gentlemen and will die down now you are back to refute it.’

  ‘And the ladies?’ he asked dryly.

  ‘Well, that’s a different matter, of course.’ Mischievous amusement lit Isabel’s soft brown eyes. ‘The few who have heard it are madly jealous of the lady whose honour you defended – particularly if the incident ended in an embrace.’

  Sebastian gave a short, sardonic laugh. ‘The truth would be a disappointment, then.’

  ‘Of course. Isn’t it always?’

  Cassie, meanwhile, perched on the edge of a chair with a selection of tiny cakes she wasn’t sure she could swallow and attempted to converse with Althea whilst wondering how to achieve a private word with Mr Audley. Nell had monopolised him for quite ten minutes and now he was on the other side of the room, chatting with Monsieur Delacroix. So far, she’d barely exchanged two words with him. Everyone else, of course, was having a thoroughly delightful time.

  As if divining her thoughts, Sebastian suddenly looked across at her, held her gaze for a long moment and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then he turned back to the Frenchman, laughed at something that had been said and made a seemingly joking reply. Feeling marginally reassured, Cassie ate a cake and then, almost without noticing, polished off the other two.

  Sebastian, meanwhile, said quietly, ‘I need a few minutes private conversation with Mistress Delahaye. I’m telling you so you’ll prevent anyone looking for us.’

  Monsieur Delacroix looked steadily back at him.

  ‘Just conversation?’

  ‘Yes.’ He hesitated and then added, ‘Help me out, Aristide. Do you think I’d ask if it wasn’t important?’

  ‘No. I suppose not. Very well. When the ladies have enjoyed sufficient tea and cake, Madeleine and I will conduct them along the upper gallery for its view over the main floor and from there, down to charm Gaspard. Lag behind, then re-join us in the kitchen.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Unnecessary. But you might return the favour by trying to find out what Madeleine has said to offend Lord Nicholas. If it helps, you can tell him that I believe she is sorry for it.’

  A little while later, Aristide gave his arm to the Marchioness of Amberley and his sister began shepherding the other ladies towards the gallery. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Cassie paused to replace her gloves, managing to drop one in the process. Mr Audley strolled forwards and smoothly retrieved it, murmuring, ‘Good. Slowly, now. There will be servants coming to clear this room, so we’ll make use of one of the smaller ones across the corridor. Aristide will occupy your friends for a little while.’

  She nodded … and a minute later, they were alone with the door closed behind them. Cassie let out a breath of relief and said, ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘I gathered that. What’s wrong?’

  ‘Papa asked if you and I had – had spent time together at Bedford House and if I knew anything about a brawl. I thought telling the truth might end with having to admit other things so I … lied.’ She swallowed and looked him in the eye. ‘As soon as I’d done it, I realised that Papa might ask you the same questions and that, if he did, you might … well, you probably would …’

  ‘
Not lie?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed miserably. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I make a habit of it – lying, I mean --’

  ‘I don’t think it.’

  ‘You don’t? Oh.’ Cassie hesitated briefly. ‘Is there much talk?’

  ‘Some. You haven’t heard any of it?’

  She shook her head. ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘It’s stupid and wholly inaccurate. But so far as I am aware, your name isn’t featuring in it and you may rely on me to keep it that way. In truth, there’d be no talk if I’d sent the young fools on their way without using my fists.’

  ‘Equally,’ returned Cassie, fair-mindedly, ‘if I hadn’t been too polite to tell them to just go away and let me alone, neither of us would have been on the terrace at all.’

  ‘True. But that still doesn’t excuse subjecting a lady to uncivilised behaviour.’

  ‘I didn’t mind. Actually, I thought you were splendid.’ Her colour rose a little. ‘I suppose I oughtn’t to have said that. But really, the only time I ever saw anything like it before was when Gerald hit Danny Colebrook for pulling my hair. And I was only ten then, so it wasn’t nearly as exciting.’

  Sebastian grinned. ‘So I’m splendid and exciting, am I? No, no. You don’t have to answer that. I suspect I’d prefer you to leave it as it stands. And now we should probably follow the others.’

  ‘In a moment. Can you tell me what people are saying? No one else will, you see.’

  ‘I overcame three fellows single-handedly and then claimed a kiss,’ he said flippantly. And when, against all expectation, Cassie started to giggle, ‘Yes – utter nonsense. But not that funny, I wouldn’t have thought.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she gurgled. ‘It’s the best bit. No one is ever going to think it was me now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘The k-kiss.’ She dissolved afresh. ‘The idea of you – or any gentleman, really – being overtaken by p-passion for me …’ She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just too ridiculous.’

  It didn’t seem at all ridiculous to Sebastian and he was faintly annoyed that she thought it was. He said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to explain.’

  ‘I already have.’

  ‘Not in a way that makes any sense to me. Try again.’

  Her expression suggested that she couldn’t understand why he was missing such an obvious point. But she said slowly, ‘I’m seen as a model of impeccable behaviour and perfect propriety – so everyone treats me as such. No one is ever going to suspect me of letting a gentleman take liberties. And even if by some miracle they did suspect it – who do they suppose is likely to want to?’

  There was a long and very ominous silence. Then, ‘Me,’ said Sebastian simply.

  Cassie’s jaw dropped. ‘What?’

  ‘I’d like to kiss you,’ he repeated calmly. ‘Shall I?’

  She still couldn’t believe he’d said it.

  ‘Why? What I just told you … it wasn’t meant as a challenge.’

  ‘I didn’t take it as one. You’re assuming that because no gentleman ever has kissed you, none of them has ever wanted to or even thought of it – but you’re wrong. I’ve done both.’

  Cassie’s breath leaked away. He had narrowed the distance between them and his voice had grown low and mellow, while his eyes lingered on her mouth. It made it difficult to say she didn’t believe him. It made it difficult to say anything at all.

  Sebastian waited and then, closing the final space between them but still not touching her, said again, ‘I want to kiss you. But I won’t without your permission. May I have it?’

  She didn’t dare let herself think. If she did that, she’d move away from him and say no; and she didn’t want to say no. She wanted to know what a kiss was like. More particularly, she wanted to know what Sebastian Audley’s kiss would be like and this was probably the only chance she’d ever get. So she nodded and whispered, ‘Yes.’

  He smiled at her, slid one arm around her waist and lifted a hand to the nape of her neck, his thumb gently stroking her jaw. ‘Thank you.’

  Cassie’s pulse was already racing and her eyes fluttered shut.

  Sebastian bent his head and brushed her lips with his own. He felt a tiny tremor run through her and reminded himself to be careful … to remember that she probably had very little idea of what to expect. He placed a butterfly kiss at the corner of her mouth, followed by others across her cheek and drew her a little closer. Then he returned to tease her lips with the tip of his tongue. She gasped in surprise and, taking advantage of it, he settled in to kiss her properly. She tasted of sunshine and strawberries and something else he already dimly suspected was addictive. Everything in him shouted for more but he didn’t take it. Instead, he tempted and offered and asked until she was utterly pliant in his arms and her hands were around his neck, holding him to her. And then, despite telling himself it was time to stop, he allowed the kiss to deepen just a little further before very, very reluctantly drawing his mouth from hers.

  The door opened and Aristide’s head appeared around it.

  ‘Damn it, Sebastian!’ he hissed. ‘Conversation, you said.’

  Hurled without warning from languorous delight into panic, Cassie snatched her hands from Mr Audley’s hair and pushed herself away from him. Sebastian’s colour rose a little but he smiled reassuringly at her and, without looking at Monsieur Delacroix, said, ‘And I meant it. But there’s no harm done, I believe … and that will doubtless continue to be the case.’

  ‘I won’t speak of this, if that’s what you mean – but that’s for the lady’s sake, not yours,’ snapped Aristide. ‘Mistress Delahaye … allow me to escort you to the other ladies. They are drinking wine and charming my chef into giving up his secrets.’

  She was still breathing too fast and staring at Sebastian out of wide, dilated eyes with absolutely no idea what to say. Realising it, he murmured, ‘If it helps at all, I can apologise. But don’t ask me to say I regret it. I don’t.’

  * * *

  Later, when she was alone and able to think rationally again, Cassie decided that she didn’t regret it either. That the kiss itself had been a revelation was undeniable. But better even than that had been the unexpected joy of being held in Sebastian’s arms; of touching his shoulders and hair; of knowing, on some indefinable level, that this handsome, charming – if sometimes infuriating – man actually wanted her, even if only for a moment.

  There was a price, of course. And in a little while, when the euphoria had faded, she would pay it. She could and must continue pretending to everyone, including Mr Audley himself that her feelings for him were purely platonic. There was no choice about that. But Cassie could no longer deceive herself. When Sebastian Audley was in the room, no one else existed … and when he looked at her, the world shrank to the compass of his gaze. The kiss had merely sealed her fate.

  * * *

  A few streets away, Sebastian moved the Black King’s rook forward to threaten the White Queen’s bishop. Then he spun the board round … and realised what he’d done.

  Christ. A bloody stupid beginner’s mistake. Haven’t I made enough of those today?

  He’d told her he didn’t regret the kiss and that was true – though he could have done without Aristide walking in when he had. But on other levels, kissing Cassandra had made everything both better and worse. Better because he’d wanted it so badly; worse because it confirmed and intensified everything he’d told Theo he felt and because Cassandra’s response told him that she was far from indifferent to him. Also, although it was going to make it hellish difficult not to look for an opportunity to kiss her again, it was clear that, for her sake, he mustn’t.

  He knew he attracted women easily. He also knew that with that ability came equal responsibility. Until he knew what he wanted to do about this feeling he’d neither sought nor expected but which was filling up his entire being … or, more to the point, until he knew what was possible … he had no business encouraging Cassandra to form an attachm
ent.

  If he hurt her that way, Lady Sarre might as well come after him with a hatchet because nothing she could do to him would be worse than the torments he’d be inflicting on himself.

  ~ * * ~ * * ~

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The day after the Sinclairs expedition, several ladies received identical notes of urgent appeal from the Duchess of Rockliffe. Another, slightly different one, lay beside Lord Amberley’s plate at breakfast and made him laugh.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Rosalind.

  ‘Adeline is calling out the militia – or, in real terms, us,’ he replied. ‘She says Rock is in dire need of an evening with his friends and that she is even more desperate for it than he is. Consequently, she asks that you and some other ladies will spend this evening with her in St James Square, while I mobilise the gentlemen. She feels that Rock will fall in line easily enough if he knows she has company but if he still proves recalcitrant, she suggests forcible abduction.’

  When his Grace of Rockliffe realised that his house was filling up with the wives of his friends and that the friends themselves were refusing to take no for an answer, he reluctantly bowed to the inevitable. The ladies, including his heavily pregnant duchess, waved him off with a good deal of cheerful chatter … and Lord Amberley took him to join the rest of his hurriedly assembled party for dinner at Sinclairs.

  Left alone with the ladies, Adeline gave a sigh of relief and said, ‘Do all men turn into mother hens at times like this?’

  ‘Well, Dominic did,’ admitted Rosalind judicially, ‘though I suppose he had more cause than most. And it wasn’t all bad. No one is better at massaging feet.’