Miss Weston's Masquerade (23 page)

Back in her chamber, Cassandra pulled a small valise from a cupboard. ‘What shall I take?’ she asked.

‘I know nothing about the etiquette of elopement,’ Guy said drily. ‘Surprisingly, given my reputation, this is not something I have undertaken before, even in pretence.’ He paused, considering. ‘It must look convincing. Your hairbrush and so forth.’ He dismissed feminine toiletries with a wave of his hand. ‘And a gown suitable for travelling.’

‘Shall I change now?’

‘No. If you leave here in a day dress, it will be remarked upon by the servants. In a ball gown with an evening cloak and the hood pulled over your face, you will be in no way remarkable.’

He was right. Cassandra, her heart in her mouth, slipped through the throng of guests, flushed and laughing as they waited in the hall for their carriages to arrive at the front doors. No-one noticed her cloaked figure as she followed the Count’s broad back as he made his way out.

‘I will not risk drawing attention by calling my carriage. Come.’ He slipped his hand under her arm. ‘We will go round to the mews and find it there.’

Minutes later, they were bowling down the wide boulevard away from the Embassy towards the house on the outskirts of the city which Guy had taken for his stay in Vienna.

Cassandra sat in the shadowed coach, stealing sideways glances at the man beside her. He was not conventionally good-looking, his nose was too prominent, his expression too quizzical and sardonic, his hair unruly despite his barber’s best efforts. But his personality was so warm, his infectious enthusiasm so charming, that Cassandra felt she could trust him completely. And despite his devil-may-care reputation, she believed him when he said he would look after her.

Now the excitement of the actual escape was ebbing, she felt again the cold knot of misery in her stomach. She remembered Nicholas and their journey, the moments of tenderness, of passion, of joy and laughter. They could have been so happy together, friends as well as lovers.

She knew more about him than any respectable woman should. She knew he was bad tempered in the morning and that he did not snore. She was really most improperly acquainted with the Earl and his tastes. Despite her misery, a small snort of remembered amusement escaped her lips.

‘Is that amusement or hysteria?’ Guy asked wryly.

‘Amusement, I think. No doubt I should be having hysterics, but I seem to have lost the capacity for vapours.’

‘Believe me, Cassandra,’ he said with feeling, ‘I would never have carried you off if I thought you were prone to the vapours!’

The sound of the wheels changed as the carriage drew off the highway into a flagged courtyard. Guy helped Cassandra down and glanced up at his coachman. ‘You have not seen this lady tonight, Jacques.’

‘Bien sur
, monsieur.’ The man shook the reins and drove the team on round the corner of the house towards the stables.

A sleepy porter opened the door and was swiftly dismissed with an order to send for the count’s valet. ‘You can sleep here,’ Guy pushed open a bedchamber door. ‘It is my room. If you need anything, I will be in the dressing room next door, changing into riding clothes. I will go to an inn tonight as soon as I have spoken to the housekeeper about you.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Cassandra said thankfully, looking at the bed. How wonderful just to climb in and sleep for hours, forget all that had happened tonight.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Cassandra peeled off her long gloves, tossed her reticule onto the bed and began, with difficulty, to unhook her dress.

Nicholas was in the act of untying his neckcloth when the door opened and his mother swept in.

‘Mama? What is wrong?’

‘Read this.’ She thrust a letter into his hand and waited impatiently while he read it.

Nicholas swore, then pulled on his coat again. ‘The little fool! I don’t believe a word of this. Although why she…’ He broke off with a taut smile for his mother. ‘Don’t worry, Mama, go to bed. I will bring her back.’

‘But, Nicholas, whatever did you do to drive her away and into the arms of this Comte de Courcelles, or whatever his name is?’

‘I don’t know, but there is some misunderstanding here,’ he said grimly. ‘I will get precisely what I deserve if she does marry him. Try not to worry, she may be safer than you fear. Guy is not the reprobate he likes to be thought. Or perhaps I am comforting myself. But there is no time for speculation now. I will bring her back.’

As he strode to the door, the Countess called, ‘But how will you find him?’

‘He will have signed the Embassy guest book with his name and direction. I will start there. I cannot believe she intended this madness from the start, therefore they will have to make some preparation.’

He was gone before his mother could respond.

After a considerable time, Cassandra finally managed to free herself from her ball gown and perched on the edge of Guy’s bed, unlacing her shoe ribbons.

She sat wriggling her aching toes, almost too weary to make the effort to roll into bed. Without warning, the quiet of the mansion was shattered by a thunderous knocking at the front door, and the sound of raised voices.

‘Milord! Stop! You cannot… my master is not receiving.’

‘The devil he’s not. Stand aside.’

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Guy, in his shirt sleeves and breeches, flung open the dividing door from the dressing room.

‘What is happening?’

‘It’s Nicholas,’ she gasped, her mouth dry.

‘Mon Dieu
. Events are moving faster than I expected.’ He strode over and put a protective arm around her shoulders as she sat on the bed. ‘Your godmother must have found your letter at once. Your Nicholas, unless I am much mistaken, is out for my blood.’

‘Oh, Guy,’ Cassandra clutched his hand, terrified of what Nicholas would do when he found them like this. She was acutely aware of her bare legs and shoulders, of her flimsy petticoats and Guy’s own half-dressed state.

The chamber door opened with almost maddening slowness to reveal Nicholas, his face taut with anger. Through her fears, Cassandra felt her heart surge with joy at the sight of him. He was here and, for whatever motive, it seemed he cared enough to come after her.

‘A very touching scene,’ Nicholas remarked, eyeing the pair of them as they sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Nicholas, it is not what it seems,’ Cassandra began.

‘That I can well believe,’ he retorted. ‘I suggest you take your arms from around Miss Weston, Count. This farce has gone quite far enough.’

‘I have no intention of leaving the side of my affianced wife,’ Guy said, with some panache. ‘Leave my house immediately, you are distressing Miss Weston.’

‘If Miss Weston is distressed, it is entirely her own fault. Cassandra, put on some clothes and wait downstairs. I will come and take you home in a minute.’

‘No! I won’t leave Guy. You’ll challenge him to a duel or something dreadful and one of you will be killed.’

‘Probably me,’ Guy muttered,
sotto voce
.

‘Undoubtedly you,’ Nicholas remarked. ‘Cassandra, will you do what you’re told?’

‘I think perhaps the time has come to tell him the truth.’ Guy got off the bed and moved with studied casualness to a position nearer the dressing room door.

‘How can you suggest that?’ Cassandra said reproachfully. ‘You know why I can’t.’

‘One of you had better tell me, or I will have to extract the information some other way.’ Nicholas leaned one shoulder against a massive
armoire
. ‘And my patience is not unlimited.’

Cassandra felt herself go pale. She couldn’t let Nicholas fight Guy, yet nor could she betray whatever hopes there were of him honourably marrying Lucy.

Guy, however, had other ideas. ‘No, really,
mon ami
. You cannot be considering fisticuffs? This evening suit has suffered enough, what with being wept down…’

Nicholas grinned. ‘You have my sympathy.’

‘Oh, stop it! Stop it, both of you!’ Cassandra could stand it no longer. ‘This isn’t a joke. Nicholas, Guy was only trying to help. I came away with him so you would be free. Free to marry Lucy.’ There was a surprising lack of response from Nicholas, but she stumbled on. ‘How could you hurt her by jilting her when you love her so? I saw you together kissing. How could you make her cry like that?’

Nicholas straightened up slowly, his eyes on her face. She had all his attention now, and the tolerant amusement had vanished. ‘What is this about Lucy Hartley? I can make neither head nor tail of it. What has she to do with any of this? You can’t have run away because the girl kissed me on the cheek, for heaven’s sake! Why should I have to marry her?’

He seemed entirely sincere. Cassandra shook her head in confusion. ‘But I overheard you in the retiring room. You were making a declaration, you made her promise not to tell anyone yet. And then you proposed to me out of some misplaced fear you have compromised me, and say Lucy will understand. No wonder she was in tears on the terrace.’

There was a long silence while Nicholas digested this outburst, then Guy said wearily, ‘I confess I do not understand how you English manage to make simple matters of the heart into such dramas. It is a wonder any of you marry at all. And if you would stop regarding me with that sinister look in your eye, I will assure you that not one word of Miss Weston’s escapades in Paris or here will ever cross my lips.’

Nicholas glanced at him. ‘I will take your word for it. But why you felt it necessary to interfere, and why you had to descend on us with that minx Mariette in tow...’

‘You’ve spoken to her?’ Guy waved a hand. ‘But surely you see, one word from her and Cassandra’s reputation would be ashes.’

‘Ah, but she now knows I can spoil her chances here in Vienna, just as effectively as she could damage Cassandra’s good name. She will keep her mouth shut.’

Nicholas looked at Cassandra. There was an expression in his eyes she had never seen before, and when he spoke, it was as though he had forgotten Guy. ‘Is this all true? That you fled because you thought I was proposing to you only out of a sense of duty, and for no other reason?’

She nodded dumbly.

Nicholas turned to Guy. ‘You are decidedly
de trop
, my friend. Might I suggest you leave us?’

‘With pleasure, Nicholas.’ He slipped from the room, closing the door silently behind him.

‘Now, let us be clear. On seeing Guy and Mariette, I am supposed to have decided to jilt Lucy, and offer for you, to save your reputation?’

Cassandra nodded. ‘Well, didn’t you?’

‘No. What you overheard was me telling Lucy of my intention to propose, not to her, but to you, Cassandra. I wanted to propose to you tomorrow, when everything was quiet and we could be alone. Then, when I saw Guy and Mariette, I felt I had to establish your position at once, beyond any doubt. But I handled it badly, my love. I am not surprised you misunderstood.

‘As for Lucy, knowing how close you had become over the last few weeks, I thought she might give me some clue as to how you would receive me. Lucy is a friendly soul, I’ve known her for years. People keep suggesting we should marry,’ he added ironically, ‘and perhaps we would have done. But neither of us truly loved each other that way, and mercifully, we are friends enough to admit it. What you saw was Lucy giving me her approval with a kiss. Then when I told her how coldly you had rejected me, she was upset: hence the tears.’

Cassandra stood staring at the man she loved, wondering at how this tangle had come about, then the import of what he had said dawned on her. ‘You were going to propose to me, anyway? Before you saw Guy? But why?’

He moved slowly towards her, the tension easing slowly from his face to be replaced by a wry smile. ‘Can’t you guess, brat?’

‘But you don’t love me,’ she said shakily. This couldn’t be happening.

‘Don’t I?’ He was very close to her now, but still he did not touch her. ‘Oh, but I do, Miss Weston. I think I’ve loved you ever since you braved Aunt Augusta with that pile of shirts. I just didn’t realise it.’

‘But why not?’ she whispered, looking up into the green eyes, too afraid to believe this could be true, and not a cruel joke.

‘First of all, because I thought you were too young, and I was full of guilt about the way you made me feel.’ His hand came up to cup her chin gently. ‘And you made me feel so very…’ He broke off at the blush staining her cheeks.

‘And when I discovered the truth about your age, I was so confused by the responsibility I felt for you, and my regret at dragging you half way across Europe, and the sheer irritation you invoked in me every time I started to feel fond of you…’

‘Irritation?’ Cassandra exclaimed, suddenly, miraculously, enjoying herself. It was all going to be all right, he loved her, he had always loved her. ‘I was never as irritating as you were!’

‘You were enough to try the patience of a saint.’ He smiled down at her. ‘You still are. Cassandra, .do you think, just possibly, you could…’

‘Love you? Is this a declaration, my lord?’ She hated – and loved – to see Nicholas, her Nicholas, deprived of his usual self-assurance.