‘I suppose it was a vain hope that you would not meet him at all,’ Portia said.
‘Is he really so dangerous?’ Cassie asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
‘I don’t know ifdangerousis the right word,’ Julian said, scuffing his boot against the floor. ‘I have never known him to ruin a woman who was not already…’ He cleared his throat. ‘Who was not willing,’ he finished. ‘Married, or widowed, or in the demimondaine. His lov…’ He cleared his throat again. ‘His female acquaintances have all been as experienced as he is.’
Cassie suppressed a giggle. ‘You needn’t be so careful with me, Julian. I am old enough to know that men sometimes take advantage when an opportunity presents itself. But if he does not bother with virgins, I should be safe enough.’
‘We do not want him to associate with you, all the same,’ Portia added. ‘He is a drunkard and a gambler and keeps all sorts of low company. When he does finally marry, I pity the poor girl he chooses for I doubt he will come home to her one night in ten.’
‘That would be very unpleasant,’ Cassie agreed. The last thing she wanted was a husband who would only abandon her, as her true parents had done.
‘If you encourage him or his ilk, it will only lead to trouble. We want you to present your best face to thetonand do not want to give the gossips a reason to talk.’
Because of her illegitimacy, Cassie supposed. To a certain extent, people would look the other way because of the identity of her father and the fact that the family was acknowledging her, even though the old Duke hadn’t. But they might still wonder about her mother and think that some taint of indiscretion had been passed down to the daughter. A quarter of a century spent with the Fisks would mean nothing to such people.
It was not fair. She had done nothing wrong.
Well, almost nothing. One kiss should not matter. Even if it had been with a rake.
On a bed.
With thoughts like that, perhaps there was some trace of impropriety that had been passed to her by blood. If she wished to make a good marriage, she would need to be even more proper than the other girls out this Season. There must be no gossip at all. ‘I will be careful,’ she promised, thinking of how much easier it had been in the country, when no one had cared where she went or what she did. Then, she had been prepared for benign spinsterhood. And now? Whether she liked it or not, she was to be a lady.
They arrived at the townhouse and Julian helped them down from the carriage and ushered them into the house. Cassie went up to the room that had been allotted to her, with her adopted parents on one side and Julian and Portia on the other. Though her family had been content for her to live alone for months, suddenly she could not be trusted to sleep unless she was properly chaperoned at all times.
She let out a little breath of frustration. She missed the freedom of living on her own, even if it hadn’t been quite proper. Then, she closed the door of her room, where her maid, Bessie, was already bustling around, preparing her dressing gown and nightclothes. Someone had placed a crystal vase filled with lilacs on the dressing table. Their perfume was heavy in the night air.
She looked to Bessie for explanation. She had seen no lilacs near her brother’s home. Perhaps they were left over from the decorations for the ball, though she could not remember seeing them there, either. ‘Where did these lovely flowers come from?’ She bent low over the blooms and inhaled their scent.
‘A man stopped at the door, an hour or so ago. He said they was for you,’ the girl replied.
‘How strange.’ Most anyone in London would have known she was away from the house tonight. The ball had been mentioned in all the newspapers. Even if they had not known of it, why would they come so early in the morning? ‘Did he leave a name?’
‘No, miss.’
‘Was there a card?’
‘No, miss.’
As Bessie went about the business of preparing her for bed, Cassie stared at the blooms in the little vase, wondering about the man who’d brought them. She’d met so many men this evening, but none had given her the impression that they might want to gift her with flowers at such a late hour.
Well, perhaps one…
She swallowed, fighting the urge to smile. If it was the Duke, it was an unwelcome intrusion. As Portia had reminded her, men like him were full of empty promises and she would be a fool to trust anything he did.
Of course, Julian had been as bad as Westbridge a year ago. She’d loved him then, and she loved him just as much now that marriage had reformed him. His behaviour since marriage disproved Portia’s warning that rakes could not be trusted. It was a wonder she did not notice the fact.
Cassie closed her eyes and swallowed again, then opened them, trying to look at the flowers without emotion. She should not be thinking of marriage in the same sentence as Westbridge.She knew from experience that if they were alone, he would take any liberty he could get away with.
To pick a blossom on his way home and drop it at her door was hardly a Herculean task. It had cost him nothing. It was not a dozen roses, or orchids straight from a hothouse. It was probably a theft from someone else’s garden.
It was also nearly six in the morning. Low-hanging lilacs were the only flowers available at this hour. If a man was walking home and thinking fondly of someone he’d shared a dance with, he might be motivated to pluck a bloom or two. It was rather romantic, really.
And foolish of her to build a fantasy on them. She did not even know if it was the Duke. Tomorrow she would receive a call from one of the dozens of gentlemen she’d danced with, and he would ask shyly if she had liked the flowers. Convinced of this, she picked a single blossom from the cone and pinched it between her fingers, carrying it to bed with her so the scent of it could follow her into dreams.
Sebastian woke at noon the next day; with a sense of purpose he’d not felt in months. He had found the woman who had haunted his dreams for almost a year. He had talked to her, danced with her. And, after drinking far too much champagne, he had wandered past her house and left her a nosegay like the lovesick swain he was.
This morning, or rather this afternoon, he must decide what was to come next. Until last night, he had imagined no difficulties in winning the mysterious Cassie’s affections. She already had a fondness for him. Why else would she have wanted to save him? He had looks, wealth, and power and would offer them all to her, and the job would be done.
