by Louise Allen
Chapter Twenty Two
‘No, Nicholas you have said quite enough,’ Cassandra began, certain he was about to confide the news of his betrothal to Lucy to her. She needed at least a night to compose herself to hear that news with anything like an appearance of complacency. She lifted her skirts and tried to brush past him.
‘Wait, please hear me out.’ He took her by the shoulders, holding her back against the pillar.
Cassandra shivered as the stone struck cold through the thin silk and Nicholas drew her closer to his warmth. ‘Don’t be frightened of me, Cassandra. I know I’ve been short tempered and difficult to be with…’ He broke off, running one hand through his hair distractedly. ‘No, damn it, I’ve been harsh and unfair.’
‘I understand.’ And she thought she did. He must have been on tenterhooks, worried that his suit with Lucy Hartley would not prosper. It was enough to make any man short tempered, and then to discover her deceit in Venice would have been the last straw.
Nicholas stroked the back of one hand lingeringly down her cheek. ‘We have both behaved badly, there are things I regret.’
‘There is no need. The regrets are all mine,’ she said thinly.
‘You don’t seem to realise the position we find ourselves in. I had not intended to say anything of this to you tonight, but now that Guy and that little witch Mariette are here, everything is changed.’
‘But why?’ Cassandra was confused. ‘He was so pleased to see me, he is your friend.’
‘So he is, and an indiscreet mischief-maker when he chooses, although Guy’s capacity for trouble is nothing as compared to Mariette’s. She bears me a grudge. One word that they met you in Paris disguised as a boy, and you are hopelessly compromised. Ruined.’
‘But Guy wouldn’t betray me,’ she protested indignantly. ‘And surely Mariette cannot be that wicked?’
‘I cannot take the risk.’ He broke off and regarded her with exasperation. ‘This is not at all what I intended. Please, listen to me, Cassandra, and for once in your life, do not interrupt.’
Cassandra fell silent, watching his face in the moonlight. No doubt he was irritated that he had had to take time from his newly-betrothed to speak to her.
‘What I am trying to say, Cassandra, is, will you marry me?’
Cassandra stared at him, lips parted in stunned amazement. When she could find words, she stammered, ‘Marry? Me? Marry you? But Lucy – ’
‘So you know I’ve spoken to her? Don’t worry, Cassandra, no-one else knows, and Lucy will understand, she is entirely in my confidence.’
‘Understand?’ What could he say, what could any honourable gentleman say, to explain why he was breaking an engagement only hours after making it?
‘I will explain everything to her. But, Cassandra, never mind about Lucy, what is your answer?’
What could she answer to a man whose lunatic concept of honour would lead him to jilt one young lady in order to protect the reputation of another he did not love?
‘I thought I had seen you at your worst, Nicholas.’ She stepped free of his arms, drawing herself up, anger shaking every word. ‘But I did not think I would live to be so insulted by you, or to see you behave so dishonourably.’ Her fury seemed to burn away every tender feeling she had ever had for him. ‘Now I see how you can behave – ’
‘Cassandra, you cannot have understood me. I repeat, I wish you to become my wife. Why are you acting as if I had offered you a carte blanche?’
‘Sir, I consider your behaviour as dishonourable as if you had asked me to become your mistress! Now, let me go.’ She spat the last words at him and ran across the terrace, tears burning at the back of her throat.
She managed to evade Nicholas in the maze of small passages that led off the ballroom, but one pursuer found her as she threw herself onto a heap of cushions in the window seat of the small salon, and finally burst into tears.
Someone gathered her up; for a moment, she struggled, then she saw it was Guy, not Nicholas, and capitulated, sobbing bitterly into his shirt front.
He waited patiently until the tears subsided, then found her a handkerchief and sat her back in the cushions. ‘Now, do not tell me there is nothing I can do to help. I can at least listen. Speak to me, Cassandra.’
Once again she found herself pouring out her story to him.
When the whole sorry tale was told, Guy was silent for several minutes. Cassandra sat staring blankly at a vase of flowers which swam in and out of focus before her tired eyes. Confiding everything to Guy had left her drained.
‘Of course,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘if it were only myself involved, I would go to Nicholas and assure him my lips were sealed. But there is Mariette. If I appeal to her good nature, which does not exist, she will know there is a scandal to be made. Yet if I say nothing, we can still be certain she will make trouble. She has no love for Nicholas. He has repulsed her too often and what he said to you shows he is aware of that danger.’
He fell back into thought. His solution, when it came, was so startling, Cassandra was jerked back to reality with a vengeance. ‘You could always marry me.’
She stared at him incredulously, scarcely able to credit what she had heard. ‘What? You mean elope? Guy, you don’t want to marry me, how would that help either of us?’
He shrugged insouciantly. ‘I have been thinking lately that perhaps I should marry, settle down. Domesticity has its charms.’ He smiled at her. ‘It might suit both of us very well, but, of course, I do not press you if you are unwilling. Naturellement, you would stay with my housekeeper and I will stay at an inn, so you can feel quite comfortable. We will announce our engagement: there will be some talk, but with my reputation, c’est le vie. That will convince Nicholas that he is free to do the honourable thing by Miss Lucy. And if you decide afterwards you do not wish to marry me, we can quietly break off the engagement.’
Cassandra rubbed one hand across her eyes, wondering if she were asleep and dreaming. She could never marry him, as he was so light-heartedly suggesting, but he was right, this would offer her a breathing space. And, more importantly, it would force Nicholas’s hand.
‘Do not worry, ma petite. You can trust me, you know.’
‘I don’t doubt that for a moment,’ Cassandra assured him. He might be a rake, but he was a gentleman.
‘So why do you hesitate?’ He shrugged, ‘We are friends, are we not? After a good night’s sleep, this will all seem simpler. Tomorrow is another day.’
Cassandra couldn’t believe she was even considering his offer. ‘Guy, I can’t do it. What of your reputation?’
Guy laughed. ‘It could only be enhanced by your company.’
‘No,’ Cassandra stood up. ‘I am sorry, Guy, but I cannot accept your offer, it would not be fair of me, nor honourable.’ She looked up and caught his wry smile. ‘But we can still be friends, can’t we? You are the only one I can talk to.’
‘Ah, ma petite, of course. And I will not accept this as final. My offer still stands if you change your mind.’
‘I must go and find Nicholas and make sure he says nothing to Lucy to break their engagement.’ She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I do not know what he was thinking of, to behave so dishonourably.’
‘Do not judge him too harshly. He is worried about you and he did not take the time to think this thing through. I have a reputation as an intrigant, but he should know I would never risk the reputation of a lady.’ He raised her hand to her lips, then gave her a gentle push towards the ballroom.
Godmama and Miss Fox were sitting, heads together, on a satin covered banquette just inside the door, talking animatedly. Cassandra paused to make sure they didn’t see her as she slipped past and remark her reddened eyes, then was caught by what they were saying.
‘My dear Sophia,’ Miss Fox exclaimed, with unusual animation. ‘I do congratulate you. What an excellent match, what a charming daughter-in-law she will make.’
‘Well, I must admit to some anxiety, my dear Aram
inta. He seemed so slow to recognise what was perfectly plain to me, that he was in love with the girl. But men can be so dense!’ For a few seconds, the two ladies contemplated the frailties of the male sex, then Lady Lydford added, ‘It will be such a suitable match, she has the looks, the charm, the character, to make him happy. When he told me he was going to ask her this evening, I was overjoyed. I do wish he would come and tell me he has been accepted. Where is he?’
As the two ladies scanned the dance floor, Cassandra slipped past behind a column and began her own search. So he had told his mother about Lucy. It was even more important now to make sure he did nothing to break the betrothal.
She found him at last on the terrace, but to her horror, not alone. Lucy Hartley sat by his side, one hand confidingly on his sleeve while she listened intently to his words. It was impossible to hear what he was saying, but the effect was clear to see.
Lucy’s expression changed from concentration to one of shock and dismay. Then she fumbled in her reticule and dabbed her eyes with a delicate handkerchief, her face averted from Nicholas.
Cassandra did not wait to see anything else. It was too late to stop him now, but if she was out of the way, already ruined by some other action, then there was nothing to stop him marrying Lucy. And if she acted now, quickly, before the broken engagement became a public scandal, perhaps the gentle Miss Hartley might forgive him and take him back.
Lucy was not the sort of person who would blurt out the news of her jilting in public, she would have too much pride and sense of decorum. Cassandra thought she had until tomorrow morning at most to put things right, but she must act now and find Guy.
He was where she had left him. One look at her face as she entered the room brought him to his feet, his hands outstretched to her.
‘It’s too late, Guy, he’s already broken off the engagement.’
‘Sacre bleu! So, what do you want to do now, Cassandra?’
‘I don’t know, I just do not know,’ she aid. I love Nicholas, I cannot allow him to ruin his life.’
‘Then come away with me,’ Guy urged. ‘Whatever madness is possessing him at the moment, he is an honourable man. He cannot marry both of you. By coming with me, you free him for Lucy.’
Cassandra stopped her agitated pacing in front of him and stood looking deep into his eyes. She saw the concern there, and knew she could trust him, however madcap and unconventional he seemed.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said resolutely. ‘I’ll come with you, Guy.’
Guy took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. ‘Don’t worry, things will work out.’
He sounded very light-hearted about the whole business, Cassandra thought. She only wished she could share his optimism. ‘I will come with you. I love Nicholas and if I cannot marry him, I will marry no-one. For his sake, he must marry Lucy, and you are right. If I am apparently engaged to you, he will believe himself free of his obligation and can follow his heart.’
‘You have had an idea?’
‘Yes. As soon as Nicholas is convinced of our intentions and the marriage to Lucy is announced, I will throw myself on Miss Fox’s mercy. She will find me an eligible situation.’
It sounded a neat solution, but she had an uneasy feeling that, in reality, things would not fall out so easily. That did not matter now, the important thing was to convince Nicholas she had gone beyond his reach.
As she had come to expect, Guy raised none of the objections she was so uneasily aware of. ‘Very well, then, it will be as you say.’
‘We must think what to do now,’ Cassandra said. Having made the momentous decision to flee with Guy, she now felt stronger. ‘We must act quickly so Nicholas has a chance of retrieving matters with Lucy, and I must leave a note for Godmama telling her I am going to marry you. She wishes Nicholas to marry Lucy, so she will do everything to promote the match.’
‘Is there a room where you can write without being interrupted?’
‘My room would be best,’ Cassandra decided quickly. ‘No-one would expect to find me there now. Come.’ she took him by the hand and led him through the maze of passages to her deserted bedchamber.
Once she had begun to write the words came easily from her pen. She explained that she had met the Count in Paris and fallen in love and now they had met again and seized their chance of happiness. Godmama would be deeply shocked, and the thought pained her, but at least the Dowager would feel free to wash her hands of such an erring goddaughter.
She pressed a wafer over the folded paper to seal it and slipped quietly along to Lady Lydford’s bedchamber. The bed was already turned down, ready for when the Dowager finally came to bed. Cassandra heard the chime of the little clock as she laid the letter on the lace-trimmed pillow. She hesitated for a moment beside the bed, hoping her godmother would forgive her.
Once she had gone with Guy, there would be no turning back, Nicholas would be lost to her forever. Then she remembered Lucy’s white arms encircling his neck so lovingly, and hardened her resolution. He was already lost.
Three o’clock already. Soon the ball would be over, carriages were even now collecting weary revellers, and the street outside was growing noisy with the rumble of coach wheels and the cries of porters summoning coachmen.
Back in her chamber, Cassandra pulled a small valise from a cupboard. ‘What shall I take?’ she asked.
‘I know nothing about the etiquette of elopement,’ Guy said drily. ‘Surprisingly, given my reputation, this is not something I have undertaken before, even in pretence.’ He paused, considering. ‘It must look convincing. Your hairbrush and so forth.’ He dismissed feminine toiletries with a wave of his hand. ‘And a gown suitable for travelling.’
‘Shall I change now?’
‘No. If you leave here in a day dress, it will be remarked upon by the servants. In a ball gown with an evening cloak and the hood pulled over your face, you will be in no way remarkable.’
He was right. Cassandra, her heart in her mouth, slipped through the throng of guests, flushed and laughing as they waited in the hall for their carriages to arrive at the front doors. No-one noticed her cloaked figure as she followed the Count’s broad back as he made his way out.
‘I will not risk drawing attention by calling my carriage. Come.’ He slipped his hand under her arm. ‘We will go round to the mews and find it there.’
Minutes later, they were bowling down the wide boulevard away from the Embassy towards the house on the outskirts of the city which Guy had taken for his stay in Vienna.
Cassandra sat in the shadowed coach, stealing sideways glances at the man beside her. He was not conventionally good-looking, his nose was too prominent, his expression too quizzical and sardonic, his hair unruly despite his barber’s best efforts. But his personality was so warm, his infectious enthusiasm so charming, that Cassandra felt she could trust him completely. And despite his devil-may-care reputation, she believed him when he said he would look after her.
Now the excitement of the actual escape was ebbing, she felt again the cold knot of misery in her stomach. She remembered Nicholas and their journey, the moments of tenderness, of passion, of joy and laughter. They could have been so happy together, friends as well as lovers.
She knew more about him than any respectable woman should. She knew he was bad tempered in the morning and that he did not snore. She was really most improperly acquainted with the Earl and his tastes. Despite her misery, a small snort of remembered amusement escaped her lips.
‘Is that amusement or hysteria?’ Guy asked wryly.
‘Amusement, I think. No doubt I should be having hysterics, but I seem to have lost the capacity for vapours.’
‘Believe me, Cassandra,’ he said with feeling, ‘I would never have carried you off if I thought you were prone to the vapours!’
The sound of the wheels changed as the carriage drew off the highway into a flagged courtyard. Guy helped Cassandra down and glanced up at his coachman. ‘You have not seen this lady tonight, Jacques.�
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‘Bien sur, monsieur.’ The man shook the reins and drove the team on round the corner of the house towards the stables.
A sleepy porter opened the door and was swiftly dismissed with an order to send for the count’s valet. ‘You can sleep here,’ Guy pushed open a bedchamber door. ‘It is my room. If you need anything, I will be in the dressing room next door, changing into riding clothes. I will go to an inn tonight as soon as I have spoken to the housekeeper about you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Cassandra said thankfully, looking at the bed. How wonderful just to climb in and sleep for hours, forget all that had happened tonight.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Cassandra peeled off her long gloves, tossed her reticule onto the bed and began, with difficulty, to unhook her dress.
Nicholas was in the act of untying his neckcloth when the door opened and his mother swept in.
‘Mama? What is wrong?’
‘Read this.’ She thrust a letter into his hand and waited impatiently while he read it.
Nicholas swore, then pulled on his coat again. ‘The little fool! I don’t believe a word of this. Although why she…’ He broke off with a taut smile for his mother. ‘Don’t worry, Mama, go to bed. I will bring her back.’
‘But, Nicholas, whatever did you do to drive her away and into the arms of this Comte de Courcelles, or whatever his name is?’
‘I don’t know, but there is some misunderstanding here,’ he said grimly. ‘I will get precisely what I deserve if she does marry him. Try not to worry, she may be safer than you fear. Guy is not the reprobate he likes to be thought. Or perhaps I am comforting myself. But there is no time for speculation now. I will bring her back.’
As he strode to the door, the Countess called, ‘But how will you find him?’
‘He will have signed the Embassy guest book with his name and direction. I will start there. I cannot believe she intended this madness from the start, therefore they will have to make some preparation.’
He was gone before his mother could respond.
