No Longer a Gentleman (24 page)

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Authors: Mary Jo Putney

Tags: #Romance, #Women Spies, #General, #Historical, #Fiction

BOOK: No Longer a Gentleman
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Chapter 38

 

 

Grey’s eyes widened as Cassie descended the staircase in a shimmer of green satin. “You look splendid. The gown is perfect for tonight.”

Though she laughed, she was pleased by his warm admiration. “Since you were happy with my riding habit, I don’t know how much I should trust your judgment.”

He offered his arm. “I assure you that I’ve always had impeccable taste when it comes to dressing women.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “And I’m equally good at undressing them.”

“Shhhh!” she said with a blush as they entered the small salon where the family was gathering for pre-dinner drinks. Lord Costain was seated on a sofa rather than standing, but he looked very well. His wife was beside him, and they held hands like besotted newlyweds.

Cassie made a deep curtsy in front of them. “I am glad to see you so well, my lord. I thank you both for your courtesy to an unexpected guest.”

Lord Costain smiled benevolently. “Very prettily said. My wife and I could not be happier to meet our son’s future bride, and to find her so suitable.” A glint in Lady Costain’s eyes suggested that she wasn’t entirely in agreement with her husband’s statement, but her smile was gracious.

Peter entered the salon followed by his sister and her husband. John Langtry was pleasant looking rather than strikingly handsome like the Sommers men, but he had an appealing smile and he and Elizabeth clearly doted on each other.

Cassie was pleased to see how relaxed Grey was with his family now that the initial hurdles had been cleared. He talked easily, shared reminiscences with his brother-in-law, and was attentive to Cassie so she didn’t feel like the odd woman out.

After half an hour of relaxed conversation, Lady Costain got to her feet. “Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”

“An excellent plan,” Grey said. “I hear a roast lamb calling my name.”

Cassie smiled, looking forward to Grey’s lamb and the St. Ives apple currant tart. As she stood, the butler appeared in the door. “There are two gentlemen here to see Miss St. Ives.”

Hard on his heels were two well-dressed young men around Cassie’s age. They were of similar height and build, though one was a bit taller and broader. The men were clearly related by blood—and they had auburn hair the exact shade of Cassie’s.

“Look at the hair! It has to be her!” the leaner one hissed to the other. Raising his voice, he asked eagerly, “Catherine? Are you our Cat?”

Cassie’s wineglass dropped from nerveless fingers and smashed on the floor as she stared at the newcomers. When she had known her cousins, they’d all been children with faces not yet fully formed, but in the features of these grown men she saw echoes of her dark-haired, long-dead brother, Paul.

Rushing memories tightened her throat so she could barely speak. Gazing at the leaner man, she breathed, “Richard?” Her gaze shifted to the other. “Neil?”

She swayed until Grey put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You are Cassie St. Ives’s cousins?” he asked.

“We certainly are!” Richard drew Cassie into an exuberant hug. “Cat, dear God, it’s a miracle! We thought you were dead.” He pulled back without letting go of her and asked hesitantly, “Did … did anyone else survive?”

She shook her head, tears running down her face. “Only me.”

The other young man moved his brother aside. “Being the heir doesn’t mean you get all the hugs, Richard.” His embrace was rib bruising. “You’d better remember me also, Cat, or I’m going to put frogs in your bed!”

“If you do, you’ll find one in yours, too!” she said with a catch of laughter. She leaned into her younger cousin’s embrace. He was tall and strong, a man now. The three of them had been close in age and they were a large part of the childhood she’d buried in the depths of unbearable memory. “You’ve grown, Neil. I used to be able to defeat you when we wrestled.”

“And didn’t our mothers hate when we did that!” he chuckled.

Richard turned toward the fascinated gazes of the Sommers family. Bowing to the earl and countess, he said, “Lord Costain, Lady Costain. Please accept my apologies for intruding on a family occasion. My only excuse is that once we learned that our cousin might be alive, we were desperate to learn the truth.”

“We above all can understand what it is like to experience this kind of miracle,” Lord Costain said. “Our prodigal son was missing for only ten years. Your prodigal cousin has been lost for nigh on twenty years.”

“Exactly, sir.” Richard’s smile lit up the room. “The lost has been found, and we couldn’t be happier.”

Lord Costain studied the newcomers. “I know your father, and your uncle was a good friend of mine. I’m glad to meet the next generation of St. Iveses.”

Lady Costain glanced at the butler. “Set two more places at the table and prepare rooms for our guests.”

“That isn’t necessary, Lady Costain,” Richard protested. “We’ll stay in the village inn. We should have waited until tomorrow to call, but … we couldn’t.” He swallowed hard. “Catherine’s brother and sister were dark haired like their mother and too old to be playmates for us, but Cat was our age and a true redheaded St. Ives. More like a sister than a cousin.”

“Of course you’ll stay here,” the countess said briskly. “Our families are soon to be connected, so you are very welcome under our roof. Tonight is a celebration of my husband’s recovery from a serious accident and my son’s return from France. What could be more fitting than for you to join us in celebrating your cousin’s survival?”

Neil said, “You are gracious, ma’am.”

“I am known for it,” the countess said with a sparkle of amusement. “Would you gentlemen like to have a drink before dining?”

The brothers exchanged a glance. “It appears that you were on the verge of going in to dinner,” Richard said. “Give us a moment to wash up, and we’ll be happy to dine now if you don’t mind our travel dust.”

That was agreed to. In the following flurry of activity, Grey murmured to Cassie, “You have no doubt of their identities?”

“None at all,” she replied. “Their father was vicar of the St. Ives parish church, so Richard and Neil and I grew up together.” She gazed after them as they left to wash up. “After my family was killed, I closed the door on my childhood. Now they’ve opened that door and I find so many bright, clear memories.”

“I’m glad,” he said simply.

He was, she realized, but there was another emotion in his eyes. One that she couldn’t read.

With twice as many males as females present, Cassie was able to sit next to Grey and opposite both her cousins. She asked them question after question about the family. Their parents were well, and George, the brother who’d been only a baby when Cassie last saw him, was now a student at Oxford and planning to follow his father into the church. The three of them ate and laughed and sighed happily over the apple currant tart.

When Lady Costain rose to signal the end of the meal, she said, “Rather than separating the males and females for port and tea, I suggest that perhaps Catherine and her cousins might like time together to talk since they have much to catch up on.”

Cassie, feeling awkward, glanced at Grey. After he gave her a slight nod, she said, “I’d like that very much if it’s agreeable to Richard and Neil.”

They said they’d like nothing better, so the St. Iveses were escorted to the library, where both port and tea were available. Feeling reckless, Cassie poured three glasses of port and settled down in front of the fire with hers.

Her cousins sprawled opposite, visibly fatigued from their long journey, but deeply content. Richard remarked, “I noticed Lord Wyndham called you Cassie. Do you prefer that to Cat?”

“Either will do. I haven’t been Cat in almost twenty years. I rather like hearing it again.” Cat had been a happy, mischievous child. Very different from serious, haunted Cassie, but both of them were real. “Do your parents know about me, or are they in Norfolk?”

“They’re in London, but we didn’t tell them,” Richard said. “I know Kirkland slightly and he gave me the information about you so I could choose how to handle it.”

“Kirkland,” she said wryly. “I should have known. Why didn’t he tell your father since they were both in London? I’m sure they know each other.”

Neil grimaced. “About ten years ago an imposter showed up. It was very painful for the family, especially my parents.”

“Someone was impersonating me?” she asked, startled. “Why?”

“Not you. Paul, since he was the heir to St. Ives,” Richard explained. “Like Paul, the imposter had your mother’s dark hair, and he looked quite a bit like Paul. Like a St. Ives. And he’d gathered enough information about the family to be moderately convincing, too.”

“If only it had been Paul,” Cassie said sorrowfully. “But I’m sure I was the only survivor.” Tersely she described the fire and how she’d been saved by her nurse, Josette. The story hadn’t seemed suitable to tell during a celebratory dinner.

“At least it was quick, not months of misery in a dungeon waiting for execution,” Neil said, repressed savagery in his voice. “Your family’s deaths changed everything and not just because Father inherited the title.”

“Though going from the vicarage to St. Ives Hall was a considerable change, and not always as amusing as one might think,” Richard observed.

Neil gave a nod of agreement. “If your family had died of fever or smallpox, it would have been tragic but could be considered God’s will. Being murdered because you were English in the wrong place at the wrong time was utterly, infuriatingly wrong.”

“We both wanted to go into the army and kill Frenchmen,” Richard said bluntly. “But since I’m the heir, I accepted that my responsibilities lay in England.”

“So I got to be the dashing hero,” Neil said with a grin. “I’m a captain in the Life Guards.”

“To be fair, he’s probably better at mayhem than I.”

“I look better in the uniform, too,” Neil said smugly.

Cassie laughed at the brotherly teasing. “Tell me more about the imposter. How did you find he wasn’t Paul?”

“My mother had always doted on Paul, and she embraced him wholeheartedly. She wanted him to be Paul. My father wasn’t so sure,” Richard explained. “He’d never expected to become Lord St. Ives and he was shattered when your family was killed. But he’d had ten years of being a lord by the time the imposter showed up. He found that he liked it. So when he had doubts about the imposter, he wasn’t sure if they were genuine, or if he didn’t want to believe for selfish reasons.”

“My father said his brother was the most honorable man he knew,” Cassie said softly. “No wonder he was torn. How was the imposter exposed?”

“I could see that Richard had some of the same conflicts as Father,” Neil said. “It was easier for me since I wasn’t the heir and didn’t have as much to lose. Faux Paul was fairly convincing, but I didn’t have the sense I’d ever known him before. He felt like a stranger. After I talked it over with Richard, we started setting traps. Pretending we remembered doing things with him that never happened and the like. He was good at being evasive, but eventually we had enough evidence to support our belief that he was a fraud and we presented it to our parents.”

“Mother didn’t want to believe us,” Richard said, continuing the story. “Father frowned and called Faux Paul in and demanded he take off his shirt.”

Cassie blinked. “Why?”

“Apparently when Paul was very small, before you were born, he fell against a piece of jagged wood and was badly injured. He almost died and was left with a huge scar on one shoulder. Few people knew about that, but of course my parents did.”

Fascinated by the story, Cassie asked, “Did Faux Paul try to escape?”

“Very briefly, but Richard and I were both there,” Neil said grimly. “I pinned him down and cut off his shirt. No scar. That was enough to convince even my mother.”

“What happened to him?”

“We conducted a family court right there,” Richard said. “His name was Barton Black and he’s actually a first cousin of ours. His mother was a bastard daughter of our grandfather, who seems to have been a lusty old goat. When Barton learned of the deaths in France, he began studying the family. When enough time had passed to blur memories, he showed up and claimed to be Paul.”

“I think this is one cousin I’m glad I haven’t met,” Cassie said, bemused. “What did the family court decide?”

“My father hadn’t known about Barton’s mother, and he thought she and Barton had been treated very shabbily. He made Barton sign a detailed confession with all of us as witnesses, then said he could go free.” Richard laughed. “Barton was a cheeky devil. Said he wanted to leave England for warmer climes and asked for the fare to Botany Bay because he’d heard there were great opportunities there.”

“Father agreed and we escorted him to the docks and put him on a ship. We’ll not see him again.” Neil grinned. “I rather liked him even if he wasn’t Paul. But you can see why when Kirkland said Catherine St. Ives was alive, Richard decided to look you over before we told our parents. Since I was in London, he roped me into coming.”

“You’d not have forgiven me if I hadn’t asked,” Richard pointed out.

“You had no doubts of my identity?” Cassie asked curiously. “Twenty years is a long time. Two thirds of our lives.”

“You had the hair,” Neil explained. “Also, Kirkland said he’d known you for years. Since you’d never announced yourself to the family, it didn’t seem as if you were after anything.”

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