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“I’ll come in and sit with you, if you like.” Antonia smiled. “I’m proud of you, Cassie.”
Cassie looked startled and paused in her progress. “Why? If I hadn’t been so eager to promote a match between you and Lord Ranelaw, I wouldn’t have been in trouble.”
Antonia squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “Ranelaw plotted revenge long before he met you, I’m sure. Most girls would have collapsed into hysterics hours ago. You’re brave and you’re smart and I love you.”
“I wasn’t brave at all. I was terrified.” Tears filled Cassie’s eyes and her lips trembled. “I couldn’t see it would do any good to show it.”
“That’s the definition of courage.”
“Oh, Antonia, it was awful,” Cassie said brokenly and flung herself against Antonia.
Antonia’s arms closed around her cousin with fierce protectiveness as Cassie burst into a storm of weeping. Damn Ranelaw for threatening this wonderful girl. The hatred and outrage that she’d held at bay since she’d learned of the abduction surged on a bitter tide.
How she hoped someone somewhere made that snake suffer. Suffer the torments of the damned. She wouldn’t be there to witness it but she wished Lord Ranelaw a lifetime of pain and sorrow. She wished him every ill in the world.
Then when he tested the bounds of wretchedness, perhaps the evil he’d perpetrated today would stir a trace of repentance.
Little chance of that, but she found brief pleasure in contemplating Lord Ranelaw’s broken heart. The difficulty was that today she’d arrived at the conclusion that he had no heart to break.
“What is this? My two favorite girls hiding in the back reaches of the house?”
Antonia looked up to meet the perennially amused glance of Godfrey Demarest. After learning what he’d done to Ranelaw’s sister, there was something nauseating about his ready smiles. In all their years together, she’d never known him to take anything seriously. Once she’d found his unfailing good humor appealing. Now she’d discovered he was just as selfish and destructive as Johnny or Ranelaw. His smiles indicated nothing but shallow self-interest.
“Mr. Demarest, welcome home.” Antonia surreptitiously kept Cassie behind her. Cassie was rigid with nerves, although she must know Antonia would never tell her father about the dangers she’d faced today. Neither Cassie nor Antonia would benefit from sharing how reckless they’d been with regard to the disreputable Marquess of Ranelaw.
“Thank you.” Demarest looked past her to Cassie. “Tears, my lovely daughter? What is this?”
“Cassie’s upset I’m going back to Somerset,” Antonia said quickly.
It was an effort to sound natural. She searched her employer’s face for proof of irredeemable evil but as with Ranelaw, his appearance didn’t reveal his corruption. He looked exactly the same as ever. Middling height, perfectly arranged light brown hair, regular features, twinkling gray eyes.
The urge rose to ask him about Eloise. Perhaps there was some extenuating circumstance that explained his seduction of an innocent girl.
But if she mentioned Ranelaw’s sister, she inevitably revealed that her dealings with the marquess had extended far beyond those required of a companion defending her charge against a rake’s attentions. She couldn’t bear for anyone to know how stupid she’d been, the lunatic risks she’d taken. And for what? A man who wasn’t worth a moment’s pain. A treacherous man who had dealt her a wound that left her staggering.
“Cassie, you silly puss.” Her father opened his arms.
Cassie had always adored her father, no matter how neglectful he was. So it set another crack in Antonia’s heart to note the slight hesitation before the girl flew into his embrace with a sob. To Antonia, the emotion seemed extreme for a parent’s homecoming, however beloved.
Demarest as usual noticed nothing amiss with his world. Laughing, he returned his daughter’s hug before drawing her toward the library, calling Antonia to follow. Then, typical of the man, there was a humorous narrative of his doings in Paris—carefully edited to avoid entanglements with courtesans, Antonia didn’t doubt—and the unwrap
ping of extravagant presents.
He coaxed Cassie to recount her social triumphs. At first the girl was stiff and unnatural, but her father’s warmth eventually told. Antonia remained separate from the gaiety, although she’d played a part so long, acting the proud chaperone was no stretch.
When Cassie retired after dinner, Demarest indicated for Antonia to wait. She was tired and pain pounded in her temples. As the night proceeded, fortifying anger ebbed. Instead she was left exhausted and miserable and desperate for privacy so she could release the demons of grief and fury that warred inside her.
But she worked for Godfrey Demarest. More, whatever his sins toward others, she owed him a debt of gratitude she’d never repay. She just prayed he didn’t keep her downstairs too long. Her eyes stung from fighting back tears.
“Come into the library for a brandy.” Demarest opened the dining room door for her.
From the first, when he’d encountered her alone and terrified on the boat from France, he’d treated her as a lady. She’d always been awake to his flaws: his carelessness, his selfishness, his flagrant womanizing. And after learning how he’d wronged Eloise, she should despise him. But even after today’s revelations, it was difficult to maintain a cool distance when his charm embraced her.
It seemed nothing destroyed her weakness for a rake.
“I’m glad you came back,” Antonia said, once they both settled in leather chairs before the hearth.
The sheer familiarity offered some comfort to her wounded soul. Mr. Demarest was frequently away, but when he was home, he’d sit after dinner and discuss the day’s activities. Again she considered asking him about Eloise, but really, what could he say in his defense? Just as with Ranelaw’s kidnapping of Cassie, no excuse could ever be good enough.
