Page 51

As the bath grew cold, a different truth intruded. He had not thought only of Amabel. He supposed that was the most maddening thing about his situation. He had wanted his renovations to please Cassie. He had needed her approval to abide by the dowager’s rules, but he had wanted that approval as well. Not because she was beautiful. Next to Amabel, Cassie’s muted appearance was unremarkable. Her intelligent gray eyes, her strong brow, her wide mouth, and dark hair were signs of strength and directness, not soft beauty. But he had believed he could count on her. He thought of her as a sort of friend, someone he could trust. That must explain his anger. He had trusted her, and she had kept the truth from him. She had let him continue in ignorance of Hugh’s connection to Amabel, as if his happiness were a matter of no concern to her.

He pushed up out of the tub and toweled off. He would put the ugly scene behind him. He had learned his lesson. Confiding in Cassie had been a blunder. Still, he did not like the ungenerous part he’d played in their argument. Now that his anger had cooled, only the cruel taunt remained. He had wanted to hurt her, and that made no sense. He would apologize as soon as the rain stopped. He would walk over to the dower house and ask for a moment of her time, no more. Even as he imagined knocking on her door, he knew she would not see him.

He reached for the clothes Hackwood had set out for him. He would write her an apology. Writing that apology would be his first task. Once he had apologized, he could put the incident and Cassie behind him. There was nothing else to do. He had lost her good opinion, and deservedly so. From now on he would think only of Amabel. He would ask for Amabel’s help with the ball. He would explain his missteps in meeting her brother, and he would let go of his repugnance for Hugh. The man was going to be his brother-in-law.

He tied the sash of a silk banyan around his waist and strode to the desk in his bedroom. A curtain billowed in a gust of wind, and he closed the window behind his desk. He found pen, ink, and paper, and settled down. And immediately encountered a problem. He did not know how to address her. Dear Cassie. He had just learned her name, but he could not use it. He settled for formality—Dear Madam—and began.

He was sanding the page when Jay knocked and entered. “Where did you get to? Not to Ramsbury Park, I take it. Did you think the rain would not fall on Sir Adrian?” Jay strolled in and took his favorite armchair.

Raven put his letter aside and moved to stand by the hearth with his back to the fire. “Do you know Hugh Haydon?”

Jay’s lip curled. “Viscount Farnley? He’s the sort of fellow one tries to avoid.”

“Why?”

Jay ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “He doesn’t win well. He never loses well. And he always thinks he’s picked a winner. What made you think of him? Has he come back? Has he been snooping around Hermes? He’s been known to mess with other people’s horses before a race.”

An expletive came to Raven’s mind. He hadn’t been wrong about Hugh. But it didn’t matter. For Amabel’s sake, Raven was going to accept Hugh. “As far as I know, Hugh is off following the horses.”

“Good. Because Hermes will do better for us, if he enters the race as an unknown. He’s really coming along, and Bluebell has got Dick Crockett working on making lighter shoes for him.”

“Don’t call her Bluebell,” Raven snapped. He turned to the fire. He could feel Jay’s stare, as he prodded the coals to life.

“Excuse me. If she has no objection to the name, what objection can you have?”

“She’s Lady Cassandra to you, I should think.” Raven was being peevish, and he knew it. Jay’s easy familiarity with Cassie suddenly rankled.

“What’s set you off? You’re on your high ropes. You have no idea how we get on together in the stables.”

“I merely expect you to treat my landlady with respect.”

Jay glared at him. “Your landlady, is she? I have a higher regard for her than that. She’s not your anything.” Jay paused. “You’ve changed, you know. Not with your grandfather’s money, but with this courtship thing.”

“You think I shouldn’t court a lady of rank? We grew up in a duke’s household, didn’t we?” Raven watched the coals begin to glow.

“So we know better than to be drawn in by a title. What’s a title next to … the real man or woman?”

“I am not courting Lady Amabel for her title.”

Jay snorted. “You’re trying to rival Wenlocke is what you’re doing. This grand house, that woman. It’s not enough for you to find your doting grandfather and have him be rich as ten aldermen, you have to be better than the rest of us. Remember who we were before Wenlocke found us. We were boys no one wanted, only good enough to be sent up chimneys or down into cesspools or to scramble under the looms for lint until our fingers got caught in the machines.”

“London was wrong to rate us as nothing.”

“If you say so, but”—Jay pushed up out of the chair—“you’re so sure you’re right about everything. What if you’re wrong about this?” Jay waved a hand in a great circle at the room. “All those West End ladies flocked to you and flattered you because you put out that blaze, but what do they know or care about you? Your head is swollen as big as one of Green’s balloons, and I’ve had enough of your toplofty hospitality.”

“You’re free to lodge elsewhere.”

“Fine, I will.” Jay strode for the door. “The Crocketts will be glad to have me.”

The door slammed.

Raven turned back to his letter. He was not toplofty. He had not sought Amabel for her rank. He loved her. He would just take his apology to the dower house.

*

Alone in her room after a bath, Cassie sat at her dressing table and tried to face, as squarely as she could, her decision to conceal from Raven the fact that Hugh was Amabel’s brother. In that moment, she supposed, her vanity had been wounded by his evident admiration for another woman. Not that she had expected him to show an interest in her, but that he so evidently saw her as out of the running as Jay Kydd would say. Maybe the flattery of Jay Kydd’s attentions had turned her head, made her think she could still catch a gentleman’s eye, and Raven had dashed those hopes.

Honoria’s soft knock sounded on her door as Cassie dried her hair.