by Julia Donner
“Miss Seyton? Please, I pray you will forgive this intrusion.”
“Come in, and don’t bother with silly apologies.”
“Thank you! May I sit down?”
More than a little surprised at herself for allowing a man to invade her private rooms in the middle of the night, Cassandra waved in the direction of the divan. With her heart thumping from anxious excitement, she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for him to speak.
Arthur trembled and breathed as if he’d run a long way. He brushed a quick hand through his disordered brown curls and patted his neckcloth. Glancing up, he saw her questioning stare and smiled.
Cassandra spoke before he could explain. “How did you know that this was my room?”
“Beason knows everything about you. I merely looked at the floor plan he had drawn up of this house.”
Cassandra stilled a quiver of revulsion. “His obsession extends to creating a floor plan of this house? How disgusting.”
“I agree. After he met you, his intent changed from retribution through the management of my fortune to controlling and possessing you. But now we must speak of why I’ve come. There isn’t much time.”
“Time?” she whispered.
“A friend will be here any moment to collect me. He’s assisting in my escape, and fortunately, he’s much more accustomed to this sort of thing than I.”
“Escape? But what of our meeting tomorrow?”
“I should start at the beginning.” Instead of an explanation, he looked at her with profound tenderness and pity. “You’ve had a wretched time with this business, but your worries are over now.”
Surprise and hope parted her lips, but before she could ask, he said,. “My guardian was an evil cur. A devious plot had been perpetrated on your father. And on me. I was initially presented as your suitor, which I indeed thought I was. It wasn’t until after the contracts were written up and signed that I learned the contents. When I asked Beason for the funds to cover your father’s debts, I discovered the truth. He didn’t want to lose control over my fortune, which comes to me when I wed.”
“It’s only natural to need freedom and be in control of your fortune.”
“I shouldn’t have threatened a runaway marriage. Stupid of me.” He shook his head. “Your father and I were irresponsible and rash. He was so eager to have the creditors quieted and you comfortably settled, and I—I wanted to have you for myself. I know you think my only interest is my inheritance. You’re very much mistaken.”
“I am?”
He looked at her, his gaze adoring and weary. “Your father and I were overeager, blinded by our goals. After we discovered our foolishness, we were in too deeply to untangle the mess legally. And Beason had ways of assuring that I wouldn’t back out. He had a hold on me.”
Cassandra slipped off the bed and sat beside him on the divan. “You said that your guardian had a hold on you. Does this mean that you’ve found the means to extricate yourself? I sincerely hope that you will have done so. I won’t apologize to say that he’s a despicable and disgusting creature. I wouldn’t care for my worst enemy to be in his power.”
“I’m intimately familiar with his power. But we’re all quite safe from him now.”
He glanced away from her questioning expression. “Try to forgive what I must now confess, but it has happened to be the only way out of this dreadful affair.” He chewed his lower lip then blurted, “I’ve shot him dead!”
He stood when he heard her sudden intake of breath. “I understand how this must disgust you.”
She grabbed his arm. “Oh, please, no! Do not leave. I’m not at all disgusted with you. I tell you, sir, had I the means and the opportunity, I would have done the deed myself. You don’t believe me? It’s the truth! Now that I’m fully aware of all that he has done to me, my family, and to you, if I had my own pistols with me, I swear I’d gladly place a shot between his eyes.”
Arthur looked shaken by her admission. “I cannot believe…No, you are too sweet and—”
“You don’t know me at all, Mr. Fallone, for I would destroy his kind of evil with less concern than I would for the crushing of a spider. My poor, silly parents—how they have suffered! And you also, sir, I think for a very long time.”
“I’m nothing, but I do have friends. Influential friends. I’ve never wished to presume on their goodness, but in view of all that’s going forward, and particularly this evening’s unpleasantness, one very dear friend has agreed most kindly to come to my rescue.”
“I don’t understand.”
“In brief, my guardian didn’t have clean hands. A number of his business acquisitions were not legally obtained. My friend hastily prepared the necessary evidence. He’s in a government position, rather secret, I expect.” He stopped speaking, as if to review what he’d said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t say so much about him, but he holds a position that has been helpful to our cause.”
“I assure you that I would never say anything.”
“Of course you will not.”
Cassandra asked, “Let us sit down again. Now, tell me what happened with Beason.”
“I went to his house earlier this evening with the thought in mind to face him down with his perfidy, to demand that he release you from the betrothal in a quiet manner and turn over your father’s promissory notes. If he refused, I would expose his past dealings to the proper authorities.”
“Bravo! An excellent plan. And what did he say to that?”
The heat of outrage in his warm brown eyes faded, replaced with pain. “He laughed at me! And I suddenly felt utterly hopeless and insignificant. He’d known all along that my friend was investigating him. He said he’d drag us all—our names and our reputations—to the gallows with him.”
Cassandra touched Arthur’s wrist and he captured her hand in a crushing grip. Knowing something dreadful remained yet to be said, she stayed silent.
In a congested voice, Arthur continued. “I could see no other way out of it and challenged him. He laughed and said he’d teach me a lesson. He reached into the desk drawer, I thought, for a weapon.”
When he paused, she could see by the pained regret in his gaze that he revisited the scene. “I don’t know what came over me then, for I drew my own pistol. It belonged to my father. An excellent piece but it has a hair trigger and went off straightaway. Struck a vessel in his neck. There was no way to save him. The blood—”
“He died quickly then, and you were terribly provoked.”
Arthur scrubbed away tears with his coat cuff. “He was only reaching for a new quill, not a weapon.”
“I see. Well then, you must always remember that you honestly thought he meant to draw a weapon. Please, sir, you must remember that.”
He nodded. “Even though there was nothing I could do to save him, I thought that I could at least salvage your father’s vowels.” He looked up, intense and burning. “But in that very same drawer, I discovered so much! He’s been holding many reputations hostage. I decided to free them from his threats. I burned your father’s vowels and turned the incriminating papers over to my friend. He will contact those tormented souls and inform them they’re free. I find some comfort in that.”
“Mr. Fallone, you mustn’t torture yourself this way.”
“But don’t you see? This wretched business has been entirely my fault! I never meant to kill him, only to scare him into letting you go. Miss Cassandra, can you ever forgive me?”
“You poor man! Do you misconstrue my relief and surprise for fear? What a paltry creature you must think me. Can’t you see my complete gratitude? Mr. Fallone, do please look up and attend to me.”
When he raised his dejected gaze from the floor, she made a fervent confession. “I could’ve lived down the engagement and out-countenanced the connection, but I would have suffered eternal agonies in the alliance. You’ve saved me from the torment and humiliation that evil man had planned for my family and me. The question should more appropriately be phrased as to how
can we ever repay you!”
He shakily laughed. “Repay me, you say, when I’ve adored you from first sight! I have no need of payment. It’s more than enough to see such happiness on your face. Just to see that glorious smile—”
Her mouth parted in awe. “You could love a giant?”
“Idiot! You are the talk of the town. Bets have been flying fast and furious as to who would snatch you up. When I first saw you at Lady Jersey’s, I could scarcely believe my eyes. There wasn’t a person in the room who couldn’t help but stare at you.”
“It’s no wonder. I’m heads taller than all the females and half the men.”
“That don’t signify, you know, and those wagers had me in despair.”
“What wagers?”
“The odds at all the clubs were that only one of the Four Eligibles could win you, but I refused to give up. And my name is Arthur. I cannot have the girl for whom I have feelings beyond description forever calling me by mister,” he teased, but his eyes were bruised from exhaustion and his young face drained and drawn.
He abruptly released her hand and stood. Unable to collect himself, he averted his face and whispered, “If only you could be mine!”
Cassandra touched his sleeve. “But why not? I liked you from the moment I met you, and I’m more than willing to marry the man who has saved me. No, Arthur, do not stop me from saying this. I’ve nothing left to keep me from going with you. My inheritance is gone. My parents have never cared for me.” She stopped herself in time from blurting that the only reason she’d been agreeable to the match was to keep her father out of prison.
Arthur shook his head. “My dearest, we must be practical. There is no chance of a future for us now.”
“But Arthur, there’s nothing to stop us!”
His expression grim, he took her hand before speaking. “Cassandra, listen carefully. I am suspect in every way. I was Beason’s sole heir. I was seen by his servants tonight. You mustn’t be connected to me in any way. It was terribly rash and irresponsible of me to come here, but I had to see you one last time.” He stopped to study her reaction. “Is that a tear?”
Annoyed with her weakness, she dashed the evidence from her cheek with the back of her wrist. “Certainly not!”
Arthur wiped away the lingering moisture with his thumb. “Don’t despair. If nothing can come of us, at least you are free, and that is worth all.”
“Oh, Arthur! What will you do?”
“My friend has secured passage to France. From there, I’ll go to Holland. All is arranged.”
“France? No, it’s too dangerous!”
“I won’t be followed there.” He glanced at the clock by the bed. “He must be waiting for me by this time. I told him I’d meet him after a brief word with you. He’s taking me to the docks.”
“Please, give me a moment to dress. I’ll go with you.”
“No, Cassandra! I’m very afraid you see my plight as more of an adventure than one of future hardship. I must go now. I can’t keep him waiting in the street.”
When Arthur moved toward the balcony, she reached out to stop him. He made the mistake of looking into her pleading expression. A combination of anger and grim resolve flitted across his face. He hesitated for only a moment of inner struggle. Whispering an apology, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her, fierce and desperate, an embrace meant to last a lifetime.
Cassandra tried to return his affection as best she could with her limited experience, but he released her and fled.
Chapter 10
The drapes had not yet stilled from his passing when Cassandra opened her eyes. A breeze slipped through, flicked the candle flame and chilled her through the light wrapper and muslin nightgown. The gate at the back of the garden clanged shut, followed by the distant rattle of carriage wheels on the street.
Mutinous ideas tightened her mouth and narrowed her gaze. He should’ve let me go along, she angrily thought. Beason’s death was her fault as much as it was his and essentially on her behalf. Some would consider her too young and inexperienced to be of help, but she knew herself to be capable in ways thought of as unfeminine and eager to aid the person who’d rescued her from a life of misery. In any event, he saved her from a prison sentence; she would’ve murdered Beason if he ever tried to touch her.
Feeling thwarted and unappreciated, Cassandra shoved her feet into slippers. ”If you won’t take me with you, I can at least make certain you escape.”
She unlocked her bedchamber door, flung it wide and ran down the dark corridor. In her father’s dressing room, she raided the clothespress and yanked open drawers. She dressed in shirt, breeches and riding coat. After a quick assessment of her image in the mirror, she shoved her arms into a well-worn greatcoat with numerous capes. For the first time in her life, she appreciated the maternal family side, the line where she inherited her height.
She seized a curled-brim beaver hat from the closet shelf, ran through the dressing room and bedchamber, and into her father’s sitting room. In the escritoire drawer, she found a few loose coins and a handful of pound notes. She pulled out a lower drawer and lifted out a cherrywood box. She opened the lid, revealing a pair of ornately worked dueling pistols. Selecting one, she swiftly primed and loaded the weapon.
Back in her room, Cassandra pulled on her old riding boots. She tightly braided her hair, pinned it up and fixed the beaver hat in place. The heavy pistol got carefully inserted into a slit specially sewn into the greatcoat’s deep right pocket. A glance in the mirror told her that in the dark of night she would easily pass for a too-pretty man.
In the mews she tacked up her father’s horse and bolted the fresh animal out into the street. She urged the horse as fast as it was safe over slick cobblestones, trying to remember which docks were used for destinations to France and calculating how much time it would take for a carriage to wind its way through dark, narrow streets.
She slowed the horse when the stench of the wharves permeated the fog-shrouded night. She halted and jumped off the blowing horse, holding the excited gelding by the reins in a secure grip under his jaw. She cautiously picked her way through the dangerous alleys and warehouses on foot.
Cassandra stopped when she heard shouts in the distance. She hurried toward the racket, and as she neared, heard the scuffling noises of a fight. She peered around the side of a brick building and saw two men hauling Arthur up from a longboat and onto the pier. She exhaled, thinking it a miracle that she’d found him at all.
She searched for a nearby post to tie the horse, one close enough for Arthur to use for his escape. Doubling back, she withdrew the pistol from the greatcoat’s deep pocket, pointing the barrel down and slightly away from her body.
She peered around the corner again and found the dock empty. No sign of Arthur and his captors. Out in the harbor, the seamen in the longboat were swiftly rowing away from the trouble on the pier. They headed for the foggy outline of a ship with two blobs of yellow light fore and aft. Of the two men and Arthur, there was no sign.
Cassandra pressed her back into the slimy brick wall, thinking fast for a few precious moments. The ship would leave on the tide and not wait around to be boarded and questioned by port authorities.
Making a hasty decision, she dashed down the alley. She held onto the hope of intercepting the men who had interfered with Arthur’s escape and prayed that they hadn’t taken him into one of the vast maze of dockside buildings for questioning.
The echo of running feet halted her search. She pressed her back into a doorway recess and secreted the pistol in the folds of the greatcoat.
“Found 'im, gents! ‘Ere ‘e be!”
She stood, still and breathless, in the shadows. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she watched four men appear in the alley and converge around a dark lump. If she’d kept running down the alley, she would’ve stumbled over the limp body that two of the men now pulled up from the alley grime. They gave Arthur a rough shaking from which he didn’t rouse and started to drag
him away.
Cassandra suppressed an unexpected surge of maternal protectiveness, a raging desire to thrash the men so roughly handling her tarnished savior. She quieted her heart and mind and tried to think.
There were too many of them. More had joined the ones where Arthur had been found. They stood whispering not far from where she hid in the shadows. She had to get to the two men dragging Arthur away. She cursed herself for not bringing the pistol’s mate. She had only one shot and had to make it count. Arthur was unconscious. She doubted she had enough strength to hoist him over the back of the horse or drag him all the way back to the dock. But she had to somehow get him to the ship before the tide.
And where was the friend who was supposed to be helping him?
She acted on instinct and dodged out of the shadows and into swirling fog. Shouts erupted behind her. A carriage moved in the distance to her right, and she headed for the sound. From somewhere in the fog came the startled squeal of her father’s horse. The pounding feet of her pursuers came closer. She slipped into another doorway and waited, praying they would pass her by.
No one came her way. All became quiet. Too quiet. Cassandra waited, staring wide-eyed into the murky night, trying to breathe in silence amid the stench of the wharves. Perspiration trickled a tickling path through her hair and along the side of her left ear.
Down the alley and through the smoky fog came a shrill female laugh and the faint echo of music. A dark form suddenly leapt out of the dim. She jerked up the pistol. Another man came at her from the other side and knocked it from her hand with a cudgel, numbing her arm to the bone. He lunged at her, but she ducked out of the way. Hands grabbed at her, dragging her back. She slipped out of the sleeves so they only held an empty greatcoat.
When a hand came out of the dark and clutched one of her jacket lapels, she kicked and connected with a shin. The instructions of her Uncle Duncan’s gillie filled her head. She raised her boot and sliced down, dislocating her attacker’s kneecap. An agonized howl filled the alley, and her captor released his grip.
