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‘And so you decided to pay him back? Very understandable. And that is how we find ourselves having this talk, n’est pas?’
Cassandra took a gulp of Madeira, feeling it warming its way down her throat. She shouldn’t have told him, but she was glad she had.
The silence stretched on. The Count had finished his wine and sat, apparently deep in thought, his fingers steepled.
‘Monsieur le Comte…’
>
‘Guy.’
‘Guy, what am I to do?’
‘Malheureusement, little one, I can offer no better solution than the one you have already before you. Wait here until your marraine returns from Vienna.’
‘But Nicholas will be so angry, he will throw me onto the streets,’ Cassandra said miserably.
Guy leaned forward and took both her hands in a warm clasp. ‘Nonsense, he is too much the English gentleman. He will be very angry, sans doubte.’ He shrugged. ‘But you will feel braver in the morning. Still, if you are frightened – ’
The door opened.
‘Cass, what are you doing in here?’ Nicholas sounded more mildly irritated than the anger she expected.
Cassandra shot out of the chair, knowing her face must be a picture of guilt. ‘Nicholas, I was just going to my room.’
‘Indeed, you are,’ he said levelly. His eyes, as his gaze rested on the Count, were cold. ‘Really, Guy, one never knows where you will turn up next.’
The Frenchman swept him an ironic bow, but his expression was wary. ‘Miss Weston and I were merely discussing her impressions of France.’
‘Miss Weston? So, Cassandra, you have been confiding in my friend here? A pity, he is known as one of the worst gossips in Paris.’
‘You do me an injustice, mon brave, surely you mean the best?’ His insouciance did not quite disguise the edge of tension in the room.
‘A warning, monsieur. Miss Weston’s predicament is not a subject for one of your witty stories.’
‘But Nicholas, mon ami, it is so piquant, so irresistible.’ Guy spread his hands, ‘With the names changed, of course.’
‘Indeed. And how irresistible will you find it if I send my seconds to wait on you?’ Nicholas enquired amiably.
There was a long silence. Cassandra looked from man to man, unable to read how serious Nicholas was.
‘Nicholas,’ she said. ‘Please stop talking about duels, you are frightening me.’
‘Cherie,’ the Count remarked with a grimace, ‘you are not alone. He frightens me, too.’
Suddenly she realised the two men were grinning at each other and that her alarm was quite misplaced. The realisation made her angry. ‘Men.’ Somehow she managed not to flounce as she marched out of the room, carefully not slamming the door behind her.
Through the crack she heard the clink of glasses and Nicholas’s short laugh. ‘I do declare, Guy, the girl is more trouble than a barrel-load of monkeys. Thank heaven, I do not have a daughter.’
‘Not one you know of, at any rate, mon brave.’
Cassandra stamped upstairs, their laughter ringing in her ear. Men. They were all as bad as each other.
Chapter Seven
Nicholas was no less infuriating the next day, nor more inclined to forgive her.
Madame Robert was just attempting to arrange Cassandra’s cropped locks into a more feminine style when he swept into the chamber.
