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Chapter Twenty-nine
“It was a wicked thing Lord Ranelaw did,” Cassie said in a low voice after they’d covered a number of miles without speaking. When Cassie turned, her eyes weren’t glazed with the tears Antonia expected. The girl was pale but composed.
Antonia’s hands tightened on the reins. A dull, pounding determination had sustained her since she’d retrieved her cousin. She didn’t think beyond the moment. It was as if the harm was so great, she couldn’t comprehend its scale.
This blankness wouldn’t endure. How could it? But she was mightily thankful that devastation held off, if only briefly.
Her rational mind insisted life would continue. She’d return to her unexciting existence running the Demarest estate, at least until Cassie married and she had to find other employment. Cassie, pray God, was safe from any ill effects from today. Ranelaw would hotfoot it to hell in his own way as he always had.
The world hadn’t ended on that dusty highway.
She realized she hadn’t answered Cassie. She forced her voice to work. “Yes, wicked.”
Another thorny silence descended.
Cassie fiddled with her skirts. “He was bringing me back.”
Antonia jerked so the carriage swerved wildly. She fought to control the horses. “What?”
“He was returning to London when you caught us.”
Antonia couldn’t help remembering Ranelaw hadn’t been heading for Hampshire. “That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t attack you.”
“He wasn’t going to touch me.”
“So he said.”
“I believe him.” Cassie’s jaw adopted a familiar stubborn line.
Antonia’s eyebrows arched in disbelief. “The man meant you no good.”
“He had reasons.”
“Instead of excusing the brute, you should thank heaven I found you in time,” Antonia snapped.
“You’re too angry to listen to reason,” Cassie said evenly.
Antonia tensed her jaw so hard that her teeth ground together. “I’m so angry that it’s an effort not turning this gig around and putting a bullet in the handsome marquess’s pretty hide.”
“He loves you.”
A bitter laugh escaped Antonia and her hands tightened on the reins. “Don’t be absurd.”
“I thought . . . I thought he was the one for you.” Cassie’s voice was muffled and her gaze darted away from Antonia as if she confessed something shameful.
Antonia wrenched the horses to a jolting stop. “What did you say?”
Cassie looked upset, more upset than since Antonia had rescued her. “He’s so strong and handsome and clever. It was clear there was something between you. I thought he’d make you happy.”
Bewilderment forced its way up through her suffocating misery. “But he was courting you. You encouraged him.”
“Only because if I didn’t, you’d have no reason to talk to him.”
Antonia released a shuddering sigh, furious with her cousin, and with Ranelaw for not being the man she’d believed him. Above all she was furious with herself, that the sound of the blackguard’s name still flooded her with sinful hankering. “Cassie, I don’t know where to start. He’s a rake. He’s a man without principle as today proves. He’s—”
“He’s got a spark in his eye and a spring in his step. He looks at you the way my father’s stallion looks at his favorite mare.”
In spite of everything, Antonia couldn’t restrain a horrified gasp of laughter. “Well, that’s romantic.”
