She gazed up at him, her eyes two enormous indistinct smudges in her pale face. “I—I don’t want to leave without you.”
“It’s all right. Lady Fosberry and your sisters are looking for you. Go on.”
It nearly killed him to send her away alone, but Lady Fosberry was already beside herself with worry, and it was best if Hattie didn’t witness what he was about to do to Egerton.
She clutched at the lapels of his coat. “He knows about the letters, Cass.”
He’d guessed as much. He couldn’t say how Egerton had found out Hattie was the one who’d sent them, but he’d know the whole of it before he left this terrace, no matter if he had to beat the truth out of Egerton.
Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, however. “I know. It’s all right.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then helped her out the door, waiting to make sure she’d reached the corridor before he closed it with a soft click.
Only then did he turn to Egerton.
“Now, Windham, be reasonable. We’re old friends, are we not? There’s no reason to?—”
He broke off with a strangled whimper as Cass advanced on him, seized him by his coat and shook him until Egerton’s teeth rattled inside his head.
“We’re not friends, Egerton. We never were, and I should have done this the first time you touched those letters.”
Egerton drew himself up with the only shreds of dignity left to a man who was seconds away from a beating. “Of course, a St. Giles guttersnipe like you would resort to violence. You’re no gentleman, Windham—oof!”
Cass put all his strength into the blow to Egerton’s jaw. There was a sickly crunch as Egerton’s head snapped back. His legs gave out underneath him and he dropped to the floor, his body going as limp as a ragdoll.
Cass crouched down beside him. “How did you find out Lady Harriet is the Hattie from my letters, Egerton?”
It wasn’t likely Egerton had guessed it. Hattie was a unique nickname, and not one of the usual derivatives of the name Harriet. Lady Fosberry and Hattie’s sisters referred to Hattie by the nickname occasionally, but not usually in formal company.
Someone must have told Egerton, but who?
“I don’t have to tell you a damned thing, Windham.” Egerton pressed his gloved fingers to his mouth, where a thin trickle of blood was seeping from the corner of his lip. “Bloody savage.”
“Very well then, Egerton. Have it your way.” He drew his arm back again, but Egerton, being the coward he was, shrank back with a whimper. “All right! Jesus, Windham. Lady Laetitia told me.”
Lady Laetitia? How the devil could Lady Laetitia possibly have found out that?—
Wait. Had he used Hattie’s nickname when he’d been speaking to her atLe Maison des Dames?
Lady Laetitia had been there that day, too. She’d come upon them seemingly out of nowhere when he and Hattie had been discussing Lord Melrose’s continued absence from London.
He must have called her Hattie that day, and Laetitia, with the uncanny knack she had for gossip and maliciousness had been in just the right place to overhear it.
Laetitia had learned Hattie’s nickname fromhim.
Of course, she’d told Egerton. Laetitia wasn’t one to let such a tasty morsel of gossip slip by her. She’d known just who to bring it to, and Egerton, who despised him, must have been only too delighted to hear it.
Egerton had been seeking revenge against him ever since he’d ended their friendship over the letters. What better way to get back at him, and at the same time win himself a wealthy bride? God knew Egerton was never going to have one of Lord Melrose’s younger sisters otherwise.
Egerton must have told Laetitia that Cass was writing to someone named Hattie. Laetitia had put the whole of it together that day at Madame Céline’s, and between the two of them they’d concluded that the mysterious Hattie who’d sent him all those affectionate letters was none other than Lady Harriet Parrish.
So, Egerton had made his plans, and now he was going to pay for them.
“Listen to me, Egerton, and listen well. If I find out you’ve breathed a single word against Lady Harriet, or impugned her reputation in any way, it won’t just be your jaw next time. It will be your neck.”
Egerton stared up at him with bleary eyes. His jaw was already swelling, and a large red mark that promised to turn black and blue within hours was blooming on his cheek.
“Look at me, Egerton. Do we understand each other? Not a single, bloody word.”
Egerton nodded, his eyes wide.
