Hunt squinted. “I’m to be gone for a fortnight. I hope to hell I find them, Swift, and that it’s all settled by the time you return from Surrey. I’ll see you back here in London in two weeks’ time. One way or another, I intend to have news.”
Julian returned to his seat and tossed back the rest of his brandy. They both knew Hunt might well be on a mission to find Donald’s and Rafe’s bodies. Julian couldn’t think about that now. He wouldn’t think about it now. He stood and shook his friend’s hand. “Good luck and safe travels.”
Hunt walked him to the front door. “I look forward to introducing you to Lucy. She’s a spitfire to be sure, a troublemaker, some would say, but her heart is very much in the right spot.”
Julian raised a brow. “A troublemaker?”
“As troublesome as she is beautiful, I’m afraid,” Hunt added with a laugh. “I’ll have to tell you some of the stories about her antics when she was trying to dissuade me from my courtship of Cassandra.”
Julian laughed. “It sounds as if Her Grace is someone I’m quite looking forward to meeting.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The devil on Cass’s shoulder had won. It was that simple. The devil came to her sometimes, the pesky little beast, after their first meeting on her sixteenth birthday. How well she remembered his awful insistence that day. His advice had been surprising, to be sure, and ultimately futile. But in the matter of Lucy and the fictitious house party, in the end, Cass had listened to the horrible little fiend. From his perch on her shoulder, he had enticingly told her she might have a bit of fun at a house party with Julian, regardless of the outcome and the hopelessness of the entire situation. Oh, she had doubts, scores of them, worries and doubts and outright anxiety, but she’d managed to push it all aside and pretend.
Pretend. That’s what Lucy said they were doing. It was a lark, like acting in a play. And they so adored plays. The servants would pretend, too. Lucy had simply told them all that they were having a sort of playacting house party, something like a masquerade, but without the feathers and dominoes. Lucy could be so persuasive.
“Haven’t you been telling me that you want to change? Be different? Stand up to your parents more?” Lucy had prodded, knowing exactly how to prod. “Now’s your chance. Be bold! Do the things you’ve never imagined you could do. You’ll surprise yourself, I’m certain of it.”
She’d surprise herself? Cass had liked the sound of that. She’d spent her childhood and young adulthood following every rule to the letter. She’d painted and sung, and played the pianoforte. She’d curtsied and danced and said all the right things to all the right people. She’d been demure as if she invented demureness. She’d listened to her mother and father, been kind and understanding to her older brother. She’d asked after all the servants, seen to all of her friends, and now, now, just what if it was her time? Her time to be a bit scandalous, her time to finally break a rule or two instead of just daydreaming about doing it.
“For the next sennight, you are Patience Bunbury,” Lucy had announced. And somehow that had given Cass permission to go ahead and break rules. She wasn’t demure Cassandra Monroe any longer, she was Patience Bunbury and she’d already decided… Patience Bunbury was quite wicked indeed.
And so Cass had jotted off a letter to Pen, informing her that she’d done just as her cousin had asked and told Captain Swift that Pen was attending Patience Bunbury’s house party. Cass just happened to leave out the part that she herself was en route to that same house party and, oh, pretending to be Patience, as well. Instead, she’d told Pen that she and Lucy were retiring to the country for a bit. Cass had been certain lightning would strike her as she’d written the letter. It was dreadful of her to continue to lie, first to Julian, now to Pen. But that pesky little devil didn’t care.
“Pen started it,” Lucy had pointed out with a shrug. That had only served to make Cass feel all the more guilty. That was absolutely no excuse. Was it? Oh, there was that blasted devil again.
Cass traced her finger along the windowpane of the coach as she and Lucy traveled to the countryside. They bounced along in the duchess’s new, resplendent vehicle, Cass trying not to bite at her fingernails every time she so much as thought of what she was traveling into: a giant falsehood.
The grand estate of the Earl of Upbridge, Lucy’s father, was settled in the quiet countryside of Surrey. A sense of calm settled over Cass when the manor house finally came into sight. She had grown up here in a sense. Her parents’ estate was less than three miles away. She sat up straight and gulped. “Lucy, what if my parents get word of this house party and decide to pay a visit to your parents?”
Lucy laughed. “Cass, you’re forgetting that your parents are decidedly unhappy with my family at present. It’s perfect timing, actually. And didn’t you send your mother a letter?”
“Yes. I informed her that I am staying with you in town for the next week.”
“Settled, then.”
Cass bit her lip. “Only if my parents remain safely over at their estate.”
“I anticipate no problems,” Lucy replied with a smile, pulling on her gloves as they approached the front of the manor house.
Cass sighed. Of course Lucy was convinced everything would be quite all right. Cass, however, lived in constant fear that her mother would arrive, tell Julian everything, and demand her daughter return home instantly. Her mother had never cared much for her daughter’s infatuation with Julian, and it had little to do with the fact that he was marked for her cousin. “He’s a second son, Cassandra. He might be good enough for Penelope, but we didn’t raiseyouto marry a second son.”
That was just it. Her parents had raised her to marry a man with a title, an illustrious title, the more illustrious the better. The only reason they hadn’t completely disowned her for turning down a duke was the fact that somewhere in the back of her mother’s mind, she was probably thinking that Cass might marry a duke with a family name that went back centuries and that would be an even better catch than the newly minted Claringdon. That’s all she was to her mother, a pawn to be played in the great game of theton’s marriage mart.
When Lucy’s coach finally pulled to a stop at the entrance to the estate, the butler and housekeeper were there to greet them with a bow and a curtsy.
“Don’t worry about a thing, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said as she ushered them into the foyer of the manor house. “The servants, we’ve all been aflurry preparing for the party. Everything is arranged.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Prism,” Lucy responded, allowing the butler to take her hat and cloak and waiting for Cass to hand over the same. “But you must remember you cannot refer to me as ‘Your Grace’ during the party. And this is Miss Bunbury.” She gestured to Cass.
“Of course. Of course.” The housekeeper chuckled. The butler had a twinkle in his eyes. They continued into the house. It smelled exactly as Cass remembered it from childhood, a mixture of lemon wax and silver polish. The bustling of the servants and the smiles on everyone’s faces bolstered Cass’s confidence. As the day progressed, Cass noticed that true to Lucy’s word, all of the servants appeared to be completely at ease with calling their mistress Lady Worthing and pretending Cass was named Patience Bunbury. In fact, they’d already begun. It was quite ludicrous, actually, but Cass had to smile at the willingness of the earl’s servants to participate in their mistress’s foibles. They did appear to be completely devoted to Lucy.
When the butler stopped by to get Lucy’s approval on the wines to be served with the first dinner, she answered, “Thank you, Merriman.”
“My pleasure, Lady Worthing.” He bowed before taking his leave.
“Leave it to you to orchestrate such madness, Lucy,” Cass said with a laugh.
