Miss Weston's Masquerade Read Free

he wants to marry this woman. He is infatuated with her. But she will not countenance it while I am still in the house. She knows I see her for what she is, a fortune-seeking predator, who will have my father in his grave as swiftly as she saw her first two husbands into theirs.’
    He made no attempt to disagree with her assessment, instead sat down again, leaned back in his chair and regarded her critically. ‘You are well-born and no doubt well dowered. You are young, but not impossibly so. And presumably, when correctly dressed, passably presentable. Why does he not permit you to have a Season next year and find an eligible husband you can accept?’
    Cassandra chose to ignore his unflattering description of her looks and prospects. ‘The Season costs money and requires planning. He will spend neither time nor money on me, although I am his only child.’ She knew she was sounding bitter, but she was beyond caring. ‘Yesterday at luncheon, he told me if I did not agree to marry Lord Offley, I would be shut in my room until I acquiesced, however long that took.’ She shuddered. ‘Have you met Lord Offley? He has a wet mouth, and he keeps wanting to touch…’
    The Earl’s mobile mouth was drawn into a thin line of distaste. ‘I know him only too well, although he is not of my circle. Your instincts about him are quite correct and there are tales I could not possibly tell an innocent girl.’ He got to his feet and walked to the window, pulling back one of the drapes to stare out over the Square.
    Cassandra could not read his mood, but she felt reassured by his anger on her behalf. When she was eight years old he had come to visit with his mother. He had rescued her kitten from a tree and she had thought him the most wonderful youth in the world. Now, regarding his broad shoulders, she felt the same security she had experienced when he had swung down from the tall oak clutching the terrified cat.
    ‘My lord,’ she began as the silence stretched on.
    ‘Nicholas, call me Nicholas,’ he said absently. ‘ My mother is your godmother so that makes us almost cousins or something very like. Let me think…’ Distantly there was a crash and the sound of splintering wood.
    ‘What the devil?’ Nicholas strode across the room and wrenched open the chamber door, Cassandra at his heels. Leaning over the landing balustrade, they had a bird’s-eye view of the hall below. Franklin, the valet, was flat on his back on the marble floor, one leg twisted beneath him with Peacock directing two footmen to lift a valise from his body. Shirts cascaded from the split leather and neck cloths fluttered on the splintered ends of the banisters.

Chapter Two
     
    ‘Is he all right?’ Nicholas called down.
    The butler looked up. ‘I think not, my lord. He is unconscious and I fear his right leg is broken.’
    ‘Send for the surgeon and get Mrs Mitchell.’
    ‘At once, my lord. We will carry him through to the anteroom sofa while he is still unconscious.’
    Nicholas thrust Cassandra back into his room. ‘Wait there.’
    As she wandered round the chamber, a fresh cup of chocolate in her hand, Cassandra felt her spirits lighten despite her concern for the unfortunate Franklin. She had no idea what was to become of her, unchaperoned in this great house with a nobleman who was about to leave the country, but she had an irrational confidence that Nicholas would take her side, would not allow this marriage to take place.
    Behind a small screen she found a ewer and basin. After one appalled glance in the glass hanging on the wall behind the washstand she poured water and cleaned her hands and face, but even dragging a comb through her hair did nothing to tame it. Experimentally, she dipped the comb in the water and wetted her hair, smoothing it closer to her head and back off her face.
    She examined the result critically. Really, she thought, she made a very passable boy. Her lashes were rather long over her blue eyes, but she had dark,