Cassie sat back. Her sister had always appealed to the men of her acquaintance. She was too pretty and vivacious not to. But she’d never been a flirt. Never would have thought to dampen her gowns to make the fabric cling to her body.
She’d never been unmarried and with child before, either. If she couldn’t convince the father of her child to become her husband, it wasn’t out of bounds to think she’d been desperate to lure any other man into taking the position.
Pain sliced through her chest. If only Lydia had confided in her, they could have come up with a solution together. Even if it meant fleeing to a country cottage somewhere no one knew them. Even if it meant living as outcasts. At least they would have been together.
“I will speak to my son, of course, but I think this year’s ball must be cancelled.” Helen swallowed the last of her brandy.
Cassie’s gaze focused on the emerald in the dowager countess’s ring as it caught the light. “Is the guest list the same every year?” she asked slowly.
“Not exactly the same, but very similar.” Helen frowned. “Why?”
“Don’t cancel. Not yet.” A room composed of all her suspects. It was almost too good to be true. “And if I might importune on your good graces again, I would like to be invited to your ball, as well.”
Her face went slack. “You cannot mean… it would be near impossible….”
Cassie put her cup of tea down on a side table and laid her hand on Helen’s knee. “What wouldn’t you do to find justice for someone you loved? If this had happened to your daughter, your sister, what lengths wouldn’t you go to?”
Helen raised her eyebrows and blinked. Then, she nodded, her chin resolute. “Of course, you may come. Just be careful.”
They said their farewells, and Cassie excused herself, moving towards the exit. She had almost reached the door when a voice stopped her.
“Since you feel free to use my club as an interview room for your questions, I hope you don’t mind giving me a few moments of your time.” Lady Mary leant upon an ebony walking stick, wisps of her snowy hair escaping from her azure turban.
Cassie’s shoulders dropped. She’d hoped to be in and out of the club without the woman’s knowledge. “Of course.” She followed Lady Mary to the bar that stretched along one side of the room. They clambered up onto two high seats. Lady Mary ordered a glass of Madeira.
“Nothing for me,” Cassie said.
“Now.” Lady Mary poked the end of her walking stick into the polished wood floor. “Have you come to your senses yet and told my boys at the agency who you are and what it is you actually want?”
“I told you why I want to keep my reasons a secret.” Cassie dropped her elbow onto the bar and rested her head in her palm. Her arm knocked an abandoned drink to the ground, the sound of breaking glass rising from behind the bar. “I can’t risk losing my position as an investigator’s assistant. The title has been useful.”
“Why would you have to lose anything?” Lady Mary thanked the footman who delivered her drink before turning back to Cassie. “Those men can help you.”
“I have no money to hire them. If I told them I was seeking my sister’s killer, do you think they would freely offer up their support?” She ran her hand along the smooth wood plank of the bar. It was cool beneath her fingertips. “Or do you think they would find the idea of a woman tracking down a killer distasteful? They would object, either on the grounds of decency or under the illusion that they were protecting me. Either way, they would become a barrier between me and my goal.”
“Hmph.” Lady Mary’s bright blue eyes glared at her over the rim of her glass. “I think you give those boys too little credit. And yourself as well. You have quite a talent at convincing people to help you with your preposterous ideas.”
Cassie thought it best not to respond to that.
“Well, I’ll not try to talk you out of this again. I think it foolish to hide your intentions, but everyone is entitled to act a fool on his or her own terms. Just one more question before you go.”
“Yes?” Her muscles tensed. That look in Lady Mary’s eye was never auspicious.
“If you find the person responsible, what do you intend to do?”
Cassie slowly sat up straight. The question she asked herself every night. When she looked into the face of the man who had taken her sister, just what violence would she be capable of?
She answered the only thing she knew to be true. “I will make him pay.”
They stared at each other for several long moments. Lady Mary set her glass down on the bar. “I’ll have my doorman hail you a cab.”
Cassie slipped from her chair. “No need. I live rather close.”
“It’s dark.” She crooked her finger at the nearest footman. “Teddy here will escort you home.”
Cassie thanked her, collected her pelisse, and left the club. Teddy fell into step behind her, and they made their way the handful of blocks to her lodgings.
A damp mist had descended, the scattering of gas streetlamps doing little to relieve the gloom. It matched her mood.
