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“I do not like this one jot, Cassie. I may have to make good on my threats of locking you up and throwing away the key.”
She fixed him with a look. If anything, these threats only made her more determined. If someone wanted her away from this investigation, it meant something truly nefarious was taking place.
“Do not think you can charm me with those beautiful blue eyes, Cassie.”
“I’m not certain charm was what I was going for.”
He smirked. “Somehow, even when you are shooting barbs at me, you are charming.”
“I think I shall take that as a compliment.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Take it however you wish.”
“No! Do not go to sleep.”
“I’m not,” he grumbled.
“We are nearly there anyway.” She jostled his arm. “Let us get you inside.”
He hobbled out of the carriage and she led him to the door, an arm through his. Mrs. Lamb greeted them with wide eyes. “My lady?”
“Viscount Whitehurst was robbed,” she explained. “Where is my father?”
“In the library.”
“Do not tell him a word. I do not want him worrying.”
The housekeeper hesitated.
“Mrs. Lamb?” Cassie pressed.
The woman nodded, her round features softening into the sort of matronly concern that belied the firm hand with which she ran the household. One would never believe Mrs. Lamb capable of giving a stern rebuke, given her rosy cheeks and short stature but Cassie had overheard her give many a scolding. A housekeeper did not come to run a duke’s house with a soft hand.
“Do we have any ice?”
“Davies brought some up from the ice house just today.”
“Good.” She glanced at Luke’s wan appearance. “And, um, some cloths I suppose.” She had never really had to look after an injured man before.
“Perhaps some tea too,” the housekeeper suggested. “A little broth if he can manage it. Does he want some laudanum for the pain?”
“Certainly not,” he snapped. “I am perfectly fine.”
“I shall take him through to the parlor if you can bring it there,” Cassie said, ignoring him.
Mrs. Lamb hastened off and Cassie urged Luke through to the parlor. She stilled when she spied Aunt Sarah holding the cat and swaying to a hummed tune. “Oh, forgive me. I did not know you would be here.”
Aunt Sarah spun wildly, cat in arms. The poor creature struggled to free himself and she finally let him go. “Simon is only annoyed that he did not get to attend the ball the other day. It was quite a wonderful night.”
Cassie watched Simon climb onto the windowsill, lick a paw and settle to stare out. She did not think the cat minded missing the ball one bit.
Aunt Sarah strode over and peered up at Luke, her gaze narrowing in on the welts on his neck. “Who won?”
“Me. I think.”
“A hefty dose of whisky will put him right,” she declared then swept out of the room.
Luke dropped onto the sofa, his hand still pressed to the back of his head. “She’s not wrong.”
