Almost Perfect (21 page)

“Tell me step by step,” Lucien suggested. “Don’t assess, just talk.”

Cassie nodded then frowned in concentration. “Well, with this last hand we were nearly through the deck and all but three spades had been played. So when spades came up trump for that last hand I knew there could only be two more. Once I know what cards I need to find my mind begins to suggest where things might be. Sometimes, as when we gamed with the squire and the colonel, all I actually sense is when to play with abandon and when I shouldn’t wager.”

Relief and amusement welled in Lucien, the pair of emotions tangling and growing until he had to laugh. He pulled Cassie closer to him. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to keep her distance.

“Why are you laughing?” she demanded, straining to free herself.

He let her go. She immediately slipped off the bed to stand at its side. Still chuckling, Lucien followed her, sitting on the bed’s edge and looking up at her.

“I’m laughing because I find myself well and truly humbled. You’re no sharp,” he told her. “Devanney and Percy were right. All you did the other night was outplay me. You have my deepest apology.”

Astonishment and relief flashed in Cassie’s eyes. Some of the tension drained from her. “Thank you,” she replied, “but I still hope I never again face a match like that one with you, Colonel Egremont and Squire Kerr. I really couldn’t stop winning, no matter how hard I tried.”

Something warm awoke deep in Lucien. He came to his feet. She took a backward step, again maintaining a decent distance between them. That only made Lucien smile.

“So my nearness drives you to distraction, does it?” he asked.

Heat flared in Cassie’s cheeks, not shame this time, but a reminder of the effect she said he had on her. She took another backward step. “I think I’ve fed your conceit enough for one day.”

Her insistence on keeping him at arm’s length spurred the rest of Lucien’s questions. “If you aren’t a sharp, then why did you flee Ryecroft after our match? Running only convinced me you’d done something you didn’t wish to explain. You should have stayed on at the party, playing every night, keeping your winnings modest. Not even Duchess Eleanor could have done you any harm with so many witnesses all observing you and finding nothing amiss. Your combined winnings would have given you a tidy sum.”

Cassie smiled nervously. She clasped her hands before her. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you glowering at me every night. What if I lost everything because of your glares?”

Everything about her screamed of falsehoods. That only brought Lucien back to the lie that had resulted in them sharing this bedchamber. “Why, when I found you, did you tell me you didn’t know who you were?”

She wrung her hands. Her brow pinched. Reluctance filled the lines of her body. He knew the moment she decided she had to give him the truth. Her brown eyes began to glisten.

“Because I’m a coward. I knew how angry you were with me and that you’d demand I explain my skill. I didn’t think you’d believe the truth. It seemed easier not to be who I was, and not to remember what had happened between us.”

Lucien nodded, accepting her excuse. If not for the past night and their game of marriage he wouldn’t have believed she was anything but Cassie the Sharp.

“I still don’t understand why you ran from Devanney after he’d offered you his protection. You did realize that’s what he’d done when he declared he saw no cheating at our table?” Devanney had no choice but to shield Cassie, especially if he’d put her in the position of being accused of wrongdoing in the first place.

“Nor can I comprehend why your family abandoned you,” Lucien continued. That wasn’t exactly true. He could understand her father leaving her, but not her sister. He wouldn’t soon forget the look of affection they’d shared when Cassie sent Elizabeth from Devanney’s drawing room.

Cassie gave a quiet cry and turned her back on him. Surprised at her reaction, Lucien joined her. She looked up at him, mortification filling her face.

“I cannot bear to tell you. It’s so horrible,” she whispered.

Lucien gave a breath of a laugh. As if anything could be worse than his own story. He waited, curiosity prodding him. She said nothing.

Remembering the comfort of her presence at the abbey, he slipped a friendly arm around her and hoped she’d take the same reassurance from his presence that he’d found in hers.

At last, Cassie drew a shattered breath. “Just before we were to leave London to come north to your cousin’s party Lord Bucksden tapped on our door. He’d come to claim my sister. My father had wagered Eliza in a card game the previous night and lost her. Before Lord Bucksden could take Eliza I hit the earl with our urn and knocked him senseless,” she finished in a rush.

Rage exploded in Lucien at the mention of that dastard’s name, his anger no less powerful or devastating than when Percy mentioned Bucksden at the abbey. Instantly, he turned away, not wanting Cassie to see him lose control. Moving to the window, he stared unseeing over the stark landscape as he battled his emotions.

Cassie and her sister had been right to run. That Bucksden risked a duel by coming within Lucien’s reach said he wouldn’t stop until he’d wreaked vengeance on the woman who’d humiliated him. Outrage grew, expanding to include Roland Conningsby.

What sort of son of a bitch gambled away a woman under his protection? What sort of father left his daughter on the road when the man who wanted to do her harm might have been chasing them? The thought of what might have happened if the earl had been the man following drove Lucien’s emotions beyond any constraint.

His fists clenched. His heart contracted in fear for Cassie. He wanted to pound his fists against the wall and scream to high heaven that Bucksden had to die. By God, and when he was done he’d kill Conningsby, too.

But, why wait for Bucksden to make an attempt at hurting Cassie? Lucien already had just cause to challenge the man, and the earl was at hand. All he needed was a second, someone to stand with him at the appointed spot for their duel, and that he had in Devanney.

Lucien turned toward the door, ready to ride hell-bent for Ryecroft Castle and his cousin, only to freeze as his imagination provided the many ways Bucksden could inflict pain on an unprotected Cassie. Blast, but this house was too isolated. He couldn’t leave Cassie here with only Jamie and Maggie to stand between her and Bucksden’s wrath.

If she couldn’t stay here, then he had to take her with him to Devanney. Lucien once more looked out the window, this time seeing the vast expanse of land before him. Impossible! He only had two horses, his and Jamie’s. The thought of the two of them meeting Bucksden in the open between here and Ryecroft Castle was problematic. Bucksden wouldn’t be traveling alone; he never did.

What, then? Lucien closed his eyes, trying to think, only to be suffused with fear for Cassie all over again. Blast it all. He wouldn’t have the control he craved until he knew Cassie was safe. But, he couldn’t make Cassie safe without calling someone here to protect her.

And if he did that he destroyed her by exposing to an unforgiving world what they’d done here.

Cassie flinched as Lucien turned his back to her. All the joy of this morning dissolved into painful irony. He was disgusted by her story. Who wouldn’t be? Once again, Roland’s debauched behavior had driven Lucien from her. A fantasy marriage was the only union she’d ever have with him.

She couldn’t say Lucien’s reaction surprised her, not after all the wrongs she’d done him, seducing him into gambling with her, taking his money, pretending amnesia and now telling him just how low her father had fallen. That didn’t stop a part of her from pining for the Lucien of this morning. She blinked back tears. She hadn’t begged him for explanations the last time he’d rejected her and she wouldn’t do it now. Nor would she cry over losing him, at least not in front of him.

Bereft, she let the rest of her explanation fell from her lips. “Eliza overheard Mr. Percy say he’d seen Lord Bucksden staying nearby. That’s why I accepted your challenge to play. I needed enough to buy three passages to America. Then the carriage fell and I hurt my knee and couldn’t mount the horse. So I sent Eliza on to Edinburgh ahead of me, knowing that of the two of us Lord Bucksden can do her the greater harm. Then, there you were. I used you, Lucien. I could think of no place safer to hide from Lord Bucksden than with you.”

Lucien didn’t shift from his tense stance at the window. His hands remained clenched at his side. His shoulders were taut. He said nothing.

Cassie’s grief grew. It was done. Their marriage was revealed for the pretense it was, the affection he’d shown her today proved to be nothing but a sham.

The sounds of women’s voices lifted in argument echoed up from the kitchen. Cassie’s heart filled her throat. She turned toward the closed bedroom door. Footsteps rang in the stairwell.

“Hie, ye’ll come back down here,” Maggie shouted. “Ye’ve no right t’intrude.”

“I have every right. Lord Graceton has kidnapped my niece,” Philana shouted back.

Cassie gasped. Throwing open the bedchamber door, she hobbled to the landing then started down the steps just as her aunt came around the last turn of the spiral stair. Philana wore sensible green cotton beneath a summer pelisse made of linen. The plumes on her bonnet fair quivered in outrage as indignation blazed in her blue eyes. Her eyes narrowed and one brow rose as she took in Cassie’s loosened hair.

“It’s not what you think, Philana,” Cassie cried, reaching behind her to frantically roll her hair into a knot, one that couldn’t hold. Her pins remained on the roof where they’d fallen when the wind had taken her cap.

“It no longer matters what I think, does it?” Philana retorted, her voice harsh. Her gaze slipped over Cassie’s shoulder. “I expected better of you, Lord Graceton.”

Cassie whirled to find Lucien on the landing. His expression was as frigid as his gaze. Then she saw him the way Philana must, dressed in his shirt sleeves and stockinged feet. He looked like a man who’d done, well what they’d done.

Why hadn’t he stayed in the bedroom? Cassie could have pretended to Philana that he wasn’t in the house. Then again, why should Lucien hide? It wouldn’t be the end of his world when the tale of their interlude spread.

He stared at Philana for a moment. Some of the ice thawed from his face. Cassie swore she saw relief flicker across his eyes.

His reaction was like a knife to the chest. He was glad Philana had found them. He was ready to be free of her.

“You’re the one who sent me after her, Lady Forster,” he replied, his deep voice lacking all inflection. “After that you cannot pretend surprise to find us together now. You obviously knew she was here. Or is it by magic you happen to come here to claim her?”

Not even the threat facing Eliza had stopped her aunt from trying one last time to bring Cassie and Lucien together. Only this time Philana had suceded, no doubt beyond all her expectations.

“It’s the future not the past at issue now,” Philana retorted, then shook a chiding finger at him. “How dare you make a captive of my injured niece. You will call at Ettrick House in two hours time to make this right.” Subtle triumph filled her voice as she threatened Lucien with forced marriage.

Any hope of a union with Lucien shattered like that urn, its pieces scattering across the courtyard floor. Cassie wanted to melt into a puddle on the stone floor. Philana and her misguided matchmaking! Never again would Lucien be the tender man with whom she’d shared that bench on the roof.

Having delivered her ultimatum, Philana turned her attention onto Cassie. “You’ll come with me this instant,” she commanded, then started down the steps.

Cassie did as she was told, leaving Lucien without a backward glance. There was no need. The Lucien she’d known wasn’t the nobleman who stood behind her.

Maggie waited in the kitchen, her expression black as she glared knives at Philana. After Maggie handed Cassie her bonnet and pelisse, cleaned of yesterday’s mud, Cassie followed Philana out of the house. Again, the wind caught her, molding her garments to her body and toying with her still-loosened hair. Waiting in the courtyard was a fine carriage drawn by four horses. Its canvas top had been lowered so its passengers might enjoy the warmth of this fine August day. A pair of footmen waited at its back, while a coachman held the horses. Jamie stood at the carriage’s door, ready to help them into the vehicle.

As Philana accepted Jamie’s aid in mounting into the carriage, Cassie threw her pelisse over one shoulder and donned her bonnet, stuffing her hair into it. The kitchen door rattled as it opened.

Cassie told herself not to do it but like Lot’s wife, the urge was beyond resisting. She looked behind her. Her breath caught. Lucien stood in the opening, shrugging into his coat, his boots once more on his feet. He wore no hat; the wind shifted the honeyed strands of his hair around his face.

Despite all the wrong they’d done between them and his new coldness, Cassie’s body reacted to his presence. Her admiration for him was deeper now that she was so well acquainted with the pleasure they could make between them. The longing to once again feel his arms around her tangled with the shame of the wrong they’d done, what Philana had done, what Roland had done.

Watching her in return, Lucien stepped out of the door. Although there was no change in his flat frozen expression, something in his posture spoke to her. Cassie ignored it. Not for an instant could she believe he loved her the same way she still loved him, idiot that she was.

Lucien’s gaze shifted from her to the carriage. He gave an approving nod then turned. Without so much as a promising gesture in her direction, he started for the tiny paddock behind the house where his and Jamie’s horses grazed.

Cassie turned her back on Lucien, telling herself she was more than ready to be done with him, his anger, his fantasies and this strange little tower house of his.

Jamie helped her into the carriage. Cassie joined Philana on the forward facing seat, her pelisse across her lap. Nearness to her meddling aunt woke anger strong enough to drive off her pain. Cassie indulged herself in the emotion, content for the moment to blame Philana for all that had happened.

“There’s no call to look s’glum, Mrs. Marston. Some of us here will dearly miss ye,” Jamie told Cassie as he closed the carriage door.

“Jamie, where’s my saddle?” Lucien shouted from the paddock.

“Coming, m’lord,” Jamie shouted, offering Cassie a quick grin before sprinting to help his employer.

The coachman climbed onto his perch and gave the reins a sharp snap. The horses leapt into motion. The carriage jerked into motion.

Cassie slid on the seat. Her pelisse tumbled onto the carriage floor. She left it there. Instead, with every nerve on edge she waited for her aunt’s first disparaging word, the one that would allow her to open fire in return, venting all her well-deserved indignation onto Philana for what her aunt had helped to orchestrate.

However, Philana refused to cooperate. She kept her head turned away from Cassie, watching the passing landscape and acting as if nothing were amiss. There wasn’t much to see. The treeless hills rolled, the grasses bent in the wind. A little red-headed linnet started up from a low-lying bush, its battle with the breeze making it seem to stand still in mid-air for an instant. Higher overhead, two corbies made better progress, cawing to each other in amiable conversation as they flew.

The carriage bumped along over rut, hole and mound. The faint track leading away from the tower house was boggy, the bright green sod peeled back by wheel and hoof to reveal the rich, black velvet of the underlying earth. Hunched on his perch, the coachman had his hat pulled down around his ears to prevent the wind from taking it. His coattails, hanging over the back of his seat, fluttered. The horses’ manes and tails flew like pennants. Cassie’s bonnet ribbons streamed.

Still, Philana persisted in her silence. Cassie could bear it no longer. “How could you send Lord Graceton chasing after us? How could you continue trying to force this match after I’d asked you not to?” she demanded.

“How could I not send him after you? You and your sister were in dire need of a protector. I’ll not apologize for what I did. Wasn’t he there to take care of you after you were injured?” Philana calmly replied, still staring straight ahead.

All Cassie could see of her aunt’s profile was a slice from the tip of her nose to her chin. The rest of her face was hidden by her bonnet’s wide brim. That was enough to show Cassie the corner of Philana’s mouth as it lifted in half of a tiny, triumphant smile.

Cassie made a sound that mingled disbelief and frustration. “I could have done with a little less caretaking.”

Philana turned her head to look at Cassie. That triumph of hers filled both corners of her mouth and radiated from her blue eyes. “Is that so? Would you care to tell me the sort of excess you experienced?”

“I don’t care to tell you anything.” Cassie crossed her arms and turned her head so her own bonnet’s brim blocked Philana’s view of her face.

“A shame, that. I’d love to hear the details,” her aunt replied, not at all perturbed by Cassie’s retort.

“Not bloody likely,” Cassie whispered to herself. The profanity should have relieved her outrage. It didn’t work. “It wasn’t my protection you wanted when you sent him after me,” she charged, despising herself when her voice quivered. “You hoped that Lucien would--,” she caught herself before she confessed more than she wanted Philana to know.

“Lucien, is he?” her aunt murmured, that triumph now filling her voice as well as her smile and eyes. “And what, pray tell, might I have hoped would happen while you were in his custody?”

Cassie marshaled her defenses. “More than he did, which was to rescue me from a fallen coach and treat my injuries.”

Philana laughed. “Oh come now. I’m not so simple as that. Consider this, Cassie. A confession on your part will go far to encourage Lord Graceton in the direction he must go.”

“I won’t marry him, Philana,” Cassie said in blunt and painful refusal. The union Philana proposed wasn’t a marriage, but a prison. Cassie would rather die in shame than face a cold, resentful Lucien for all the days of her life.

Philana turned her head so she could again look at Cassie. Concern folded her brow and dimmed that awful confidence of hers. “Of course, you’ll marry him. You must. You spent the night with him. There’s no choice left to either of you.”

“There is a choice,” Cassie said. “I can live out the rest of my life as a tart.”

Shock flattened Philana’s expression. “Don’t even jest about that Cassie!”

“If that’s my only escape from marriage to Lord Graceton, so be it,” Cassie snapped back. The words came out more harshly than she intended even in her outrage. She added more gently, “I won’t marry him because he doesn’t want to marry me, Philana.”

“Doesn’t want you?” her aunt retorted in disbelief. “Why, the man fair eats you with his eyes every time he looks at you.”

Cassie rubbed at her head as it began to ache. “That’s a different sort of wanting, Philana, and you know it.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, child. I know better,” her aunt persisted. “You’ll see. He’ll be at our doorstep this afternoon, ready to offer his proposal.”

With Philana’s words Cassie’s indignation collapsed, its fiery warmth abandoning her the same way that Lucien had now twice done. She turned her attention into her lap and her clasped hands. Her fingers were bare. Maggie had forgotten to give her her gloves.

“He won’t, Philana,” Cassie said, appalled. Her voice no longer merely quivered, it was into a full tremble. She wouldn’t cry over him, she just wouldn’t. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “He didn’t offer for me six years ago, and he won’t offer for me now.”

Philana caught her by the arm, pulling her around on the seat until they faced each other. Her blue eyes sharp, the old woman studied Cassie. The folds on her brow deepened as her confidence began to lag.

“You’re serious, Cassie. You really don’t believe he’ll offer marriage. How can you be so certain about what he plans now or what he planned in the past? Cards, you know. I’m not convinced that you read men’s hearts nearly as well.”

Cassie closed her eyes, returning in her memory to the tower house’s roof. In her imagination she again felt Lucien’s arms around her and heard his gentle voice as he told her the tale of their marriage, how her beauty had attracted him, how she had accepted his proposal and gave way to his desire for a simple marriage ceremony. He’d spun the scenario out of his heart and the well of his regrets. He’d wanted to marry her six years ago; she knew that as surely as she knew she loved him. That was, Lucien had wanted their marriage until common sense and Roland intervened.

“I can be certain because he told me,” Cassie replied, opening her eyes and clutching the front of her gown as if her grip would prevent her heart from hurting any more than it already did.

Philana shook her head, looking worried indeed. “You’re wrong. You have to be.”

“Why, because you will it to be otherwise?” Cassie returned. “Well, not even your will is enough to usurp the wrong my father did me, both six years ago and last week. According to Charles, it was my father who drove Lord Graceton from my side. He tried to profit off Lord Graceton’s affection for me by asking for a loan. Charles was present at the club that night and overheard their conversation.”