But she would make a good wife.
Some demon on Raoul’s shoulder whispered the words into his ear, but he closed his mind to them. He was not the marrying sort. He lived for his work. Surgery was his first love and a man could not have two mistresses.
‘Our lack of a servant has not gone unnoticed, however.’ He told her, sitting back in his chair. ‘I have already set it about that you are so demanding no maid will stay with us.’
As he expected, she bristled at that. Her smile disappeared.
‘Me, demanding?’
‘Why, yes. They have experienced your managing ways for themselves. To their benefit in this instance, of course, and once I had explained that you were English they were not at all surprised when I told them you were extremely domineering.’
‘Domineering?’
‘I also said you were a scold.’
‘You did not!’
‘I did. A positive virago.’
She sat up very straight.
‘You are insulting sir.’
‘But truthful, milady. You have all the arrogance of your race. And your class.’
‘Oh, you—you—’ Her knife clattered on to her empty plate. She pushed back her chair and jumped up. ‘I shall wait for you in the chaise!’
Raoul laughed as she stalked out. Best to keep her outraged. That way she was much less likely to end up in his arms.
* * *
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached Rouen. They found a small inn near the cathedral and Cassie stood silently beside Raoul while he enquired of the landlord if they had rooms. She waited anxiously, wondering if they would be questioned or asked for their papers but their host showed little curiosity about his guests, merely took their money and summoned a serving maid to show them upstairs.
Cassandra had been icily polite to Raoul on the few occasions they were obliged to speak during the journey and when they sat down to a late dinner in their private rooms she was determined to maintain her frosty manner. Her companion seemed unconcerned and applied himself to his food with gusto, while Cassie only picked at her own meal. Her lack of appetite drew an anxious look from the maid when she came to clear the table and Cassie was obliged to assure her that she found no fault with the inn’s fare. Her smile faded once the servant had quit the room and she allowed her thoughts to return to the matter that had been worrying her all day. She could not forget what Raoul had said of her. It was very dispiriting and surely it could not be true.
‘You are not hungry?’
Raoul’s question cut through her reverie. She shook her head, feeling tears very close.
‘Is something wrong, milady?’
‘Did you mean it, when you said I was arrogant?’
‘Aha, so that still rankles, does it?’
‘Disdain for others is not a trait I admire,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes lowered. ‘If the villagers thought me conceited yesterday, then I am sorry for it.’
She heard him sigh.
‘No, no, they saw nothing but goodness in you. I said what I did this morning because...’
‘Yes?’ Cassie looked up hopefully.
Perhaps he had not meant it, perhaps he had been teasing and she had been too quick to take offence. He held her gaze for a moment and she was heartened by the sudden warmth in his eyes, but then it was gone. He looked away and she was left wondering if she had seen it at all.
‘Because we needed a convincing reason for not having a servant with us,’ he finished with a slight, contemptuous shrug. ‘Your arrogance comes from your breeding, milady, it is hardly your fault.’
His words hit her like cold water. She had been selfish, yes, and thoughtless in eloping without any concern for the effect upon her grandmother, left alone to face the quizzes of Bath, but she had thought herself truly in love and Gerald had convinced her that they had no choice but to run away, or be parted for ever. Perhaps she had appeared arrogant towards Raoul, but only to keep him at a distance. She found him so dangerously attractive, but after what she had experienced with Gerald she had no intention of complicating her life by falling for the charms of another man. Ever.
* * *
Raoul watched Cassandra’s countenance, saw the changing emotions writ clear upon her face. He had intended to make her angry, but his taunts had wounded her, she had not shrugged them off as he had expected. The hurt in her eyes tugged at his conscience, but it also affected him inside, like a giant hand squeezing his heart.
Bah. He was growing soft. The woman was an English aristo. She would take what she needed from him and then cast him aside without a second thought. She did not need his sympathy. He pushed back his chair and rose.
‘It is late and we should sleep,’ he said. ‘As soon as it is light I will go to the docks and see if there is any ship there to take us to Le Havre. Who knows, I might even find a captain who is willing to take you all the way to England.’
‘Yes, that would be the ideal solution and would suit us both,’ she agreed.
Her tone was subdued and Raoul guessed she would be pleased to see the back of him.
Well, milady, the feeling is mutual!
‘At least we have the benefit of two rooms here,’ he remarked. ‘If you will allow me to remove a pillow and blanket from the bed I will not bother you again tonight.’
She nodded her assent and he picked up one of the branched candles and went into the bedchamber. The large canopied bed looked very comfortable. Raoul found himself imagining Cassandra lying there between the sheets, her glossy hair spread over the pillows and those dark-violet eyes fixed upon him, inviting him to join her. It was a tempting picture and the devil on his shoulder whispered that a few soft words would bring the lady into his arms. There was no denying the attraction, he had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her response when he had kissed her. There was passion in her, he would swear to it, just waiting to be awoken.
Why not? In a few more days she will be safely back in England and you will be free of her. What have you got to lose?
‘My honour,’ muttered Raoul savagely. ‘I will not demean myself to lie with my sworn enemy.’
Enemy? The word sounded false even as he uttered it. She might be a lady, and an Englishwoman at that, but over the past few days he had come to know her, to see the strength and resourcefulness in her character. The uncomfortable truth was that he was afraid. He could not give himself totally to any one woman and Lady Cassandra Witney was not the sort to settle for anything less. Brave and resourceful she might be, but she was born to command. To take, not give.
And what have you to give her, save perhaps a few nights’ pleasure and that would demean you both.
Quickly he pulled the coverlet from the bed, grabbed a couple of pillows and returned to the sitting room.
‘I have left the candles burning in there for you, milady,’ he said, dropping the bedding on the floor. ‘I will bid you goodnight.’
‘Yes, thank you.’
When she did not move he turned. She was holding out her purse to him.
‘You will need money tomorrow, if you find a suitable ship for us. For me. I do not know how much it will be, so it is best that you take this. I have kept back a few livres in case I need it, but you are attending to all the travel arrangements.’ She looked up fleetingly. ‘I am not so arrogant that I do not trust you, Monsieur Doulevant.’
Raoul took the purse, feeling its weight in his hand. She was giving him all her money? When he did not speak she gave a tiny curtsy and hurried away.
‘Cassandra, wait—’
But it was too late; the door was already firmly closed between them.
* * *
Cassie undressed quickly and slipped into bed. She had done it. She had handed over her purse to Raoul, put herself wholly in his power. Perhaps
that would show him she was not the proud, disdainful woman he thought her. It should not matter, but it did. She was a little frightened at how important it was that he did not think badly of her. She turned over, nestling her cheek against one hand. She had known Raoul Doulevant for little more than a week and yet she... Cassie shied away from admitting even to herself what she thought of the man. It had taken her months to fall in love with Gerald Witney and look how quickly she had recovered from that grand passion. Clearly her feelings were not to be trusted.
* * *
In the morning Cassandra’s sunny spirits were restored. They had reached the Seine. From her window she could look over the roofs and see the masts of the ships on the quayside. With luck they would find a vessel to carry them to the coast. The inn was very quiet, so she guessed it was still early, but she scrambled out of bed and into her riding habit ready for the day ahead. She emerged from her bedroom to find Raoul already dressed. She responded to his cheerful greeting with a smile.
‘Are you going out immediately, sir?’
‘I have not yet broken my fast, so we may do so together, if you wish.’ He picked up the bedding piled neatly on a chair. ‘We had best put this out of sight before I ask the maid to bring up the tray.’
It was only a matter of minutes before they were sitting at the table with a plate of ham and fresh bread rolls before them. Cassie poured coffee and they fell into conversation like old friends. On this sunny morning it was easy to forget the harsh words of yesterday. And the fact that they were both fugitives, fleeing the country.
‘How do you think you will go on today?’ she asked when they had finished their meal.
‘I have every hope of finding a ship, but it may take some time,’ Raoul warned her. ‘I shall have to be careful when I make my enquiries. Rouen is a busy port, there will be plenty of ships going to the coast, but not all of them will be prepared to take passengers without papers.’
He picked up his hat and she accompanied him to the door.
‘Raoul, you will take care?’ Impulsively Cassie put her hand on his arm. ‘I would not have you put yourself at risk for me.’
He paused and gazed down at her, but she could not read the look in his dark eyes.
‘I shall take care, milady.’ He lifted her hand from his sleeve and pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘Bolt the door and wait here for me. I shall be back as soon as I can.’
He went out, closing the door behind him and Cassie listened to his firm step as he went quickly down the stairs. She cradled the hand that he had kissed, rubbing her thumb over the palm for a moment before she turned and ran to the window. Their room overlooked the street and she saw him emerge from the inn. There was a pleasurable flutter of excitement in her chest as she watched his tall figure striding away. Excitement, but not fear; she had given Raoul nearly all her money, but she knew enough of the man now to know he would not cheat her. She trusted him. Smiling, Cassie turned from the window and looked about the room, wondering how best to amuse herself until Raoul returned.
* * *
The day dragged on and with no clock or pocket watch Cassandra had no idea of the time except from the length of the shadows in the street below. She reminded herself that it might take Raoul all day to find a suitable ship, but the shadows were lengthening before at last she heard a heavy footstep on the landing and she flew across the room to unbolt the door.
‘Raoul, I was beginning to—’
Her smiling words ended abruptly. It was not Raoul at the door but a tall, pallid stranger in a black coat. At his shoulder was the weasel-faced Merimon, her rascally courier.
Merimon put up his hand and pointed an accusing finger at Cassie.
‘That’s her,’ he declared. ‘That’s the woman who ran off with your deserter.’
Chapter Six
Cassandra stared at the men in horrified silence. Two uniformed gendarmes stood behind Merimon and the man in the black coat. Another look at the stranger showed her that his sallow face was badly marred by the crookedness of his nose. A memory stirred. Something Raoul had said, but for the moment it eluded her.
Gesturing to her to stand aside, they all marched into the room and the officers began to search it.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ she demanded angrily.
The black-coated stranger bowed. ‘I am Auguste Valerin and I am here to arrest the deserter Raoul Doulevant.’
Cassie remembered now; Raoul had broken the man’s nose. If that disfigurement was the result it was no wonder Valerin wanted revenge. She must go carefully.
‘I have never heard of him,’ she said with a dismissive shrug. ‘I am staying here with my husband, Monsieur Duval.’
‘But I heard you call him Raoul.’
‘What of it?’
Cassie spoke calmly, but Valerin’s sneering smile filled her with unease.
‘A coincidence, perhaps, that your husband and the deserter should share the same name. It is also a coincidence that travellers coming into Rouen yesterday brought with them tales of a doctor helping to save the lives of peasants in a village not a day’s ride from here. It is said he could set broken bones and even remove a crushed leg. Such skill is a rarity and news of it was bound to spread.’
The gendarmes emerged from the bedchamber.
‘There is no one here, sir,’ declared one of them.
‘Stand guard on the landing,’ ordered Valerin. ‘Keep out of sight, ready to apprehend the deserter when he returns. I will question Madame Duval.’
‘She is no more Madame Duval than I am,’ put in Merimon.
‘No,’ Cassie admitted. ‘You would know that, since you stole my papers.’ She turned to Valerin. ‘My name is Lady Cassandra Witney and I hired this man as a courier to escort me from Verdun to the coast. He and his accomplice stole my passport and would have murdered me if I had not escaped.’
Merimon threw an aggrieved glance at Valerin, his hands spread wide.
‘What cause would I have to do that, monsieur? I am an honest man, why else would I have come to you with information about Doulevant?’
‘For the reward,’ Valerin snapped. ‘Tell me your story again and we will see what Madame Witney has to say.’
Cassie drew herself up and said in her haughtiest tone, ‘As the daughter of a marquess it is customary to address me as Lady Cassandra.’
She saw a slight wariness enter Valerin’s eyes, but he replied coldly.
‘We do not recognise such titles in France now, madame. And from what you have said, you do not have any papers to prove who you are, do you?’
‘There are many people in Verdun who will vouch for me.’
‘Possibly, but that is not my concern. Where is Doulevant?’
‘I have no idea who you mean.’
‘Do not lie to me, madame. The landlord described the man staying here with you, the man calling himself Duval. I am satisfied he and Doulevant are the same person. Now where is he?’
Cassie ignored the last question. She was thinking quickly and knew she must play a convincing part.
‘La, so he is not Raoul Duval?’ she said, opening her eyes wide at Valerin. ‘That would explain a great deal.’
‘Just tell me where he is, if you please.’
‘But I do not know,’ Cassie insisted. She decided it would be best to stick as close to the truth as possible. ‘You are very right, I am not Madame Duval. The man calling himself by that name rescued me from this villain.’ She pointed at Merimon. ‘I was grateful and hired Duval to escort me to the coast. We were travelling as man and wife because there is no money to spare for servants and it seemed safer that way.’ She clasped her hands together and assumed an anxious look. ‘When we arrived here, he asked for my purse, that he might book me a passage on a ship for England. I have not seen him since. I
think perhaps he has abandoned me.’
‘You seem to be singularly unfortunate in your choice of escorts, madame.’
She returned Valerin’s glare with a steady look of her own.
‘France seems singularly full of rogues, monsieur.’
He walked slowly to a chair and sat down, a deliberate insult while she was still standing. ‘True, and I expect one of them to return here sooner or later.’
Cassie’s blood ran cold. She could think of no way to warn Raoul and could only hope that he would see the gendarmes waiting on the stairs before they spotted him.
‘You may wait if you wish,’ she said with studied indifference. ‘I told you, he has gone and taken my money with him. He will not be back.’
‘We shall see,’ purred Valerin. He looked round when the courier cursed impatiently. ‘We need waste no more of your time, Monsieur Merimon. You may leave.’
‘Not until I have had my reward.’
‘The reward was for information leading to the apprehension of one Raoul Doulevant. So far I have not seen him.’
‘But I told you, she is his accomplice.’
Cassie replied to that bitterly. ‘I was forced into his company when you attacked me!’
Merimon was inclined to argue the point, but Valerin put up his hand. ‘Enough. We know where we can find you, citizen. Good day to you.’
‘But I have received nothing for all my trouble,’ Merimon whined. He turned his sharp little eyes to Cassie. ‘She still owes me for my services.’
‘I owe you nothing. I gave you half your fee when we set out from Verdun, the agreement was that you would get the other half when we reached Le Havre.’
‘It was not I who ran off.’ He turned to Valerin again. ‘Believe me, sir, she is Doulevant’s whore.’
‘How dare you!’ Cassie raged.
‘You are in league with him.’
‘He rescued me from your attack, that is all. And I have told you, I have no money.’
‘None?’ snapped Valerin. Cassie’s slight hesitation was enough. He said coldly, ‘Will you give me your purse, or shall I call in the gendarmes to search you?’
Return of the Runaway Page 10
