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‘Thank you, Nicholas,’ she said fervently. ‘I promise I’ll behave with discretion. I made a good boy, but I’ll make an even better schoolgirl.’
She fixed him with an imploring gaze, which he met with narrowed eyes and a slight, dubious, shake of the head. ‘You’ll be bored to tears back in skirts and with a chaperone. When the novelty wears thin…’
The rest of the sentence was drowned by the rumble of carriage wheels on cobbles, followed seconds later by the raised voice of an Englishman. Nicholas pushed open the door a crack. ‘Hell and damnation. Upstairs quickly.’
‘But Nicholas – ’
‘Don’t argue. There’s a party of about a dozen English, three carriages. Of all the cursed bad luck!’
Chapter Ten
Once she was safely in her room Cassandra set the shutters open a crack to observe the new arrivals who appeared to consist of two families with their servants. The older men, both florid and overdressed, were alike enough to be brothers. They were accompanied by their wives – one stout and perspiring in the afternoon sun, the other thin and languid – and their sons. Cassandra saw at a glance they were not of the ton. Rich merchants from their dress and manner, she guessed. The yard soon emptied, the noise transferring to the interior of the inn as they and their luggage were distributed amongst the available rooms.
Did this mean she would have to be confined to this chamber until these people – or she and Nicholas – moved on? Already the restrictions of her new rôle were beginning to chafe. At least as a boy she could have slipped down the back stairs and into the stableyard and no-one would have spared her a second glance.
There was a light tap at the door and Madame came in, accompanied by a pretty blonde woman in her early twenties whom she introduced to Cassandra as Madame Vernet, the apothecary’s wife. ‘Monsieur entrusted me to engage a companion for you, m’selle, and he has requested me to ask you to come down to dinner this evening with Madame Vernet.’
‘And the other visitors?’
‘They are not of the best society, m’selle.’ The widow spoke with hauteur, as if she and her inn were used to better. ‘Monsieur le Comte thinks it would be useful for you to practise your new rôle among people who do not know him.’
Cassandra felt her spirits lift at the prospect of a chance of escape, a change of company. ‘What am I to wear?’
‘Monsieur and I consider what you are wearing is entirely suitable for a young lady not yet out.’
Cassandra smoothed down the light grey skirts of her gown and sighed. Her new resolution to behave like an obedient young lady was being sorely tested sooner than she would have expected.
The rest of the party was assembled in the dining room by the time Cassandra and her new chaperone entered. Colette Vernet had proved to be a friendly companion and an excellent dresser of hair. Despite her drab dress, Cassandra was pleased with the shining curls Colette had teased from her crop, and the Frenchwoman had brought her own rice powder to cover the bruise on Cassandra’s cheek.
All eyes turned to them as they entered. Cassandra thought she glimpsed relief on Nicholas’s face at her modest demeanour while the touring party stared with frank curiosity that turned to indifference at the sight of two uninteresting females.
‘My ward, Miss Jones. Ca– Catherine, Mr Bulstrode and Mr George Bulstrode and their families.’
Cassandra bobbed a neat curtsey, then took the seat next to Nicholas, Colette at her side.
‘You are most indulgent to bring your ward with you, my lord,’ the elder Mrs Bulstrode observed archly. ‘My two darling daughters, Phoebe and Ariadne, pleaded with their dear Papa to permit them to accompany us, but Mr Bulstrode would not countenance it. Would you, Mr Bulstrode?’
‘Certainly not.’ Her spouse broke off from stuffing roast goose into his mouth to nod in agreement. ‘I don’t spend good guineas for them to attend Miss Simpkin’s Academy in Bath so they can fritter their time on continental travel. No way to catch a good husband that, is it, my lord?’
Faced with a direct question, Nicholas was forced to participate in a conversation he clearly found distasteful. ‘I am afraid I have no opinion on the matter, Mr Bulstrode. I am delivering my ward to the care of her great aunt in Nice and that is the sum total of my experience of the rearing of young ladies.’
Cassandra could hardly contain her laughter. How Nicholas managed to convey such total boredom and a complete distaste for the subject without being openly offensive fascinated her. She could well believe all the stories she had heard of the arrogant Earl of Lydford.
The Bulstrodes appeared oblivious to the snub. They ignored Cassandra and her companion completely, except to request them to pass the buttered crayfish or the mustard, and addressed all their remarks to poor Nicholas.
Cassandra knew she had to avoid his eye or they would both set off laughing. But all desire to giggle left her when, to her utter astonishment, she heard her own name mentioned.
‘Of course, my lord, you have been out of the country and will not be aware of the latest on-dit in Society. Poor Lord Offley has set off such a hue and cry after his young bride-to-be, who has vanished from her home. Why, he believes Miss Weston to be abducted, so sudden was her disappearance.’ The younger Mrs Bulstrode was positively quivering in her over-trimmed gown with the excitement of the tale.
‘And he must be correct,’ her sister-in-law chimed in, ‘for what young girl would flee from such a distinguished connexion?’
Cassandra felt the colour rise up her throat and her heart began to thud uncomfortably. Not for a moment had she expected anyone to make her flight public, let alone Lord Offley. But, of course, when she thought about it, she could understand why. Her father might live cut off from Society, but he hoarded every penny and was known to be a warm man. Lord Offley, as profligate with his money as with his morals, would want Cassandra, and her dowry, back.
‘Why, we have shocked dear Miss Jones,’ Mrs Bulstrode senior said patronisingly, after a glance at her flushed cheeks. ‘I am sorry, my dear, but such sad stories should be told, for they hold a moral for young girls.’
‘In what way, since you hold Miss Weston to have been abducted, sir? If that were the case, it could not be her fault and the story holds no moral,’ Cassandra remarked coldly. ‘Or do you suggest she had connived in her own abduction? If that were so, I am sure the tale is not fit for my ears.’
Nicholas tapped her warningly on the ankle with the toe of his shoe, but Cassandra was enjoying the look of outrage on Mrs Bulstrode’s florid features. The older woman was not to be so easily snubbed, however. Ignoring Cassandra, she turned to Nicholas. ‘I believe Miss Weston is a connexion of yours, is she not, my lord? This sad news must be a terrible shock for you.’
