“You are a very rude fellow,” Kitty said stoutly.
“And to think that I liked you.” Cass sniffed. “You’re not the man I thought you were.”
“A man of action? A soldier always prepared to battle the enemy?”
“An arrogant lord.”
He cast her a dry smile. “Iama duke’s son and a colonel. I’m entitled to a certain degree of arrogance, don’t you think?”
“And how does that characteristic separate you from Malet?” Cass asked.
The accusation grated on him. “My intentions are good. His are not.”
“How can you be sure?” Kitty asked.
“I know him and his antics,” Heywood said. “Trust me.”
Cass shot him a long look. “All right, I’ll concede that, but still you could have consulted us or at least shown Douglas’s letter to my aunt.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You said yourself that she ‘doesn’t like being pulled away from the whist table.’ The matter was urgent. I couldn’t wait for her cooperation.”
“He has a point, Cass,” Kitty said. “Mama likes Mr. Malet. She would probably have ignored your warnings.”
“I realize that!” Cass retorted. “Why do you think I felt the need to frighten the man off? I had no idea his response would be to attempt a kidnapping.”
Heywood kept his gaze on Kitty. While protesting the idea that she’d encouraged Malet she acted as if she wished to give the man the benefit of a doubt. Something wasn’t right in her reactions, if only he could put his finger on it.
Cass, however, was perfectly straightforward—she detested Malet. Heywood felt an odd relief that Cass wasn’t the kind of woman to fall for that arse.
Not that it mattered, since Malet wouldn’t dare to treat her as he had Valeria in Portugal, anyway. He’d only preyed on Valeria because she’d had no family to defend her. But Kitty had Douglas and her aunt and probably innumerable other relations.
They rode a long while in silence . . . until the sound of snoring filled the carriage. It came from Kitty, the delicate debutante.
“My cousin is quite tired,” Cass said, her tone apologetic.
“I can tell.”
That made Cass bristle. “You have the audacity to be snide that Kitty is exhausted when you’re whisking us off against our will?”
Heywood wished he could see her better. Because he suspected that Cass in a temper would be quite a sight to behold—all passion and storm and biting wit. No doubt she was fighting to keep that storm at bay, to be a lady.
What was she like when she wasnotbeing a lady?
He shook off that line of thought, or tried to. What the devil was wrong with him? Given his circumstances, his attraction to Cass didn’t matter. He must concentrate his efforts on Kitty. Yet he couldn’t keep from asking, “Why did you say earlier, ‘And to think that I liked you’? You hardly know me.”
Rubbing condensation from a portion of the window, she stared out. “I-I knew you from your letters.”
“The ones Kitty read to you.”
“We share everything,” she said warily.
“Then tell me, how does Kitty really feel about Malet?”
For a moment, Kitty’s snoring seemed to diminish, but perhaps he only imagined it.
“I wish I knew,” Cass said. “But she doesn’t confide in me about him. Or about any man, really.”
“So why did you say you never liked him? Did he ever try to court you?”
