He had wandered into the Seven Dials unarmed.
To find himself so foolhardy was as cold water on his face.
What was he doing, wandering into a thieves’ den as if he preferred to die by rusty knife? He was not a maudlin sort! He’d been through the war, for God’s sake. This was to be another war. He may have lost a battle, but he had not yet lost the war.
Edwin turned his horse and cantered toward home, passing lurking shadows who no doubt admired his purse and wished he’d slow down. There was no time to accommodate those wretches—it was time to devise a campaign.
*
Cassandra had workedhard to regain her composure after Lord Hampton had left Lady Blakeley’s house. At least, to regain the appearance of composure. That effort had been helped along by Lady Blakeley herself.
While the hostess may have mistakenly invited Lord Hampton to her dinner, the rest of the guests were all friendly faces to Cassandra. It was a small party and composed of those that she thought she could trust. Sybil and her parents, Lord Burke, and some others, in particular Miss Penny Darlington, that she did not suspect of glorying in gossip.
They were a cozy party of fifteen sat round a circular table in a smaller dining room. Cassandra presumed a sixteenth chair for Lord Hampton had been hastily removed and the place settings adjusted to the new number.
Lady Blakeley rose to make a toast.
“My dear friends, I bid you welcome to my table,” she said. “When you look about, you will notice how few real friends I think I have, as nobody but a true friend is allowed in here. This is my favorite room in the house, for it is where my husband and I gather the people we truly like. We are at once delighted to receive Miss Knightsbridge back to her proper place in the world, and thrilled that a certain Lady M has found her own proper place far to the north.”
Laughter overtook the table and Cassandra could not help but join in. It was spoken of widely that Lady Montague continued to fire off letters from Yorkshire and had taken to blaming Lady Blakeley for any slippage in her influence. Everybody was perfectly well aware that it was the dowager duchess that Lady Montague ought to complain of, though she did not dare it.
“Let us all be merry this evening, for I have ordered a sinful amount of wine,” Lady Blakeley said before sitting down.
After the “hear, hears” had died down, Lord Burke turned to Cassandra. “Might I depend upon our friendship to be so bold as to skip the pleasantries and ask you directly how you’ve fared through this trial?”
Cassandra smiled. Lord Burke could always be depended upon to say something surprising. Further, it was almost a relief that she might speak honestly, rather than engage in another of the conversational minuets she had so often been having since her return to town.
“I am both gratified to be exonerated and furious at the gentlemen who caused my need to be exonerated,” she said. “I suppose I should be more gracious and claim all is forgiven, but I have discovered I am not so gracious.”
Lord Burke nodded. “It is a hard thing to forgive, especially considering that it all might not have turned out so well had the dowager and the Regent not stepped in.”
“While I lived at my father’s estate in disgrace, I had decided not to marry and would run the estate myself after he passed. I was to become a hermit in Surrey and ignore all the fanciful rumors of Miss Knightsbridge. So you see, I was determined to survive, if nothing else.”
“And now?” Lord Burke asked.
“Now, I cannot claim to know,” Cassandra said.
“I am certain you are weary of gossip; however, I think you should be aware that there has been some talk about Hampton,” Lord Burke said.
Cassandra froze. “What sort of talk?” she said slowly.
“They say he is smitten with Miss Knightsbridge. What else could account for him muscling his way into every drawing room these past weeks to proclaim your innocence and his own guilt? Then, his father was overheard to say you could not be blamed for rejecting him.” Lord Burke laughed and said, “Apparently, his father will not cease informing people that his son is an idiot, that is why the duke does not blame you for turning his son down.”
Cassandra took in a deep and slow breath. Carefully, she said, “As always, the gossip is invented. Lord Hampton has not asked me such a question.”
Lord Burke appeared thoughtful. “I had almost believed it true. I’ve known Hampton a very long time and he was most in earnest in proclaiming your innocence, even to me. I told him I had no need to be convinced and then joked that he did a fine job of looking regretful for what he’d done and would be forgiven by thetonin no time. He looked dark as thunder over it. I had begun to wonder.”
“Surely, if the lord had ever an inclination to speak to me,” Cassandra said, “his motive would only have been to assuage his guilty conscience.”
“Perhaps,” Lord Burke said. “Though, you might put aside that reason if he chooses to speak now or in future, as you no longer have need of rescue.”
Cassandra had only nodded at that idea. Lord Burke had gone on to entertain with more stories of his cook. She worked hard to be attentive and amused at the idea that he’d survived a week on chestnuts in all their various forms—one day roasted, another day in a sauce, a third day ground into flour and made into a pancake.
For all her smiles, though, her thoughts kept drifting back to Lord Hampton. Could it be true that he held real feelings for her? Could it be possible that she could ever forgive him enough to return those feelings?
It was ridiculous. Of course she could not. Even if she could, she had no wish to become a duchess. She’d always said so.
*
