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Disbelieving, Cassandra took in the fair curls, the extravagant gown, the nasty little smirk. No surprise that Lady Bolderwood was being insulting. No surprise, even, that she had addressed Cassandra when they had ignored each other for a week.
But a great surprise that the woman even attended the duchess’s ball.
Others were watching. Cassandra lifted her chin and, without a word, gave Lady Bolderwood her back: the cut direct.
She spied her grandmother three potted palms away and marched right to her.
“There you are, Cassandra, my dear,” the duchess said. “Shall we declare Lucy a success?”
“Why is Lady Bolderwood here?” Cassandra demanded.
The duchess cocked an eyebrow. “The invitations went out long before your little dramas came to town.”
“Grandmother, you should have revoked her invitation. This is my sister’s debut!”
“And my ball. I do not live to do your bidding, Cassandra.”
“We are family,” Cassandra said. “I thought I could count on your support.”
The duchess’s lips tightened. “You ignore my advice, you manipulate my husband, you force me to shelve my interests for the sake of your own, and then you have the impertinence to address me thus at my own ball?”
Cassandra struggled under the weight of the accusations. Put like that, she sounded awful. No wonder her grandmother resented her.
Habit had her ready to apologize, and yet—No, she decided. She had not manipulated or forced anybody. She was entitled to her own decisions and opinions, and she would never be ashamed of supporting her sister.
But before she could tell her grandmother exactly that, the music ended, closing the waltz with a smattering of applause. The crowd began to mill and the orchestra launched into a bright, fast reel, but they were too eager, it was too soon, and they stopped again abruptly, creating an unexpected silence, into which rose the voice of Lady Bolderwood.
“…but the old duchess has life in her yet. At least, she has Sir Arthur Kenyon in her. Indeed, I hear he’s in her most afternoons.”
* * *
The crude barbrose into the silence and exploded like a firework. A million scandalized faces turned their way. The duchess gasped. Her hand flew to her throat and the ugly color of humiliation mottled her cheeks. Her mouth opened, closed, worked, and she glanced about, wide-eyed and panicked. Titters rippled outward, and the proud duchess looked ready to faint.
With quick steps, Cassandra planted herself in front of her grandmother and indicated for her grandmother’s friends to join her in making a human wall.
“Oops,” came Lady Bolderwood’s giggle. “I ought not have spoken so loudly. Still, ’tis not as though everyone did not already know.”
Too much. Cassandra’s head spun, her elbows floated, and it vaguely occurred to her that rage acted upon her like a potent brandy. She seemed to grow to twice her height and her mind was clear and sharp. She pivoted slowly, dimly noting the audience, Joshua striding toward her, but ignoring them all. She was a fierce falcon now, and her prey was a rodent with sly eyes. She was hardly aware her legs moved and, when she spoke, she did not know her own voice.
“You disgusting, despicable viper!” Cassandra hissed in Lady Bolderwood’s smirking face. “Have you become so grubby that you must sully everything else too?”
Lady Bolderwood tossed her head. “You are so naive, Mrs. DeWitt.”
“The games you and your husband play in your bedchamber have distorted your view, Lady Bolderwood, and now you cannot tell what is real and what is not.” She stepped closer. The viscountess stepped back, so Cassandra stepped closer again. “Howdareyou mock and judge, you malicious, vile asp? Howdareyou let your own corruption pollute someone else’s honor? Howdareyou insultmy grandmother?”
Lady Bolderwood screwed up her face, as Harry stumbled up to them. A strong presence warmed her side: Joshua.
“How dare you speak to me like that?” Lady Bolderwood snarled. “I am a viscountess and your better.”
“My better?” Cassandra scoffed. “You are not the better of the lowliest, filthiest worm crawling on its belly through the muck.”
“Here, don’t speak to her like that,” Harry broke in. “DeWitt, control your wife.”
Joshua pressed a firm hand to her waist. “Not a chance,” he said cheerfully. “She’s splendid when she loses control.”
“Leave,” Cassandra said. “Both of you. Now.”
“You are nobody, Mrs. DeWitt,” sneered the viper. “You cannot make us leave.”
