Читать книгу Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption - Sarah Mallory - Страница 14

The lure of a fresh gown was too tempting to resist. Cassandra begged Raoul to wait for her downstairs and twenty minutes later she joined him in the dining room dressed in her new yellow muslin. She saw his eyes widen with appreciation and was woman enough to feel pleased about it. They were alone in the room at that moment and as Raoul held the chair for her Cassie murmured her thanks again.

‘The gown fits very well, monsieur, and the maid has promised to have my riding habit brushed and packed by the time we are ready to leave.’

‘Good.’ He took his seat opposite and cast an appraising eye over her. ‘The woman in the shop was correct, that colour is perfect for you.’

Cassie looked up, intrigued. ‘How then did you describe me to her?’

‘A petite brunette with the most unusual violet eyes.’

‘Oh.’ Cassie blushed. ‘Th-thank you, monsieur.’

Raoul berated himself silently. She thought he was complimenting her, but it had not been his intention. It was true he thought her beautiful, but he did not wish her to know that. Confound it, he did not want to admit the fact to himself. He gave his attention to his breakfast. He had told the truth, nothing more.

While she was busy pouring herself a cup of coffee he took another quick glance. There was no denying it, she was beautiful. The lemon gown enhanced her creamy skin and set off the dusky curls that she had brushed until they shone. She had pinned up her hair, accentuating the slender column of her throat and her bare shoulders that rose from the low-cut corsage. His pulse leapt and he quickly returned his gaze to his plate. Strange how the sight should affect him. After all, he had seen her shoulders before, and more, when she had been bathing in the lake. But something was different. He looked up again. Yes, there was a thin gold chain around her neck from which was suspended an oval locket set with a single ruby. But it was not the jewel that held his attention, it was the fact that the ornament rested low on her neck, directing the eye to the shadowed valley of her breasts.

‘You are staring at me, monsieur. Is something wrong?’

Raoul cleared his throat.

‘I have not seen that trinket before.’

‘The locket?’ She put one hand up to her breast. ‘Until today I have worn it beneath my riding shirt. It is the last of my jewellery. I sold the rest to pay for my journey.’

‘It holds special memories for you, perhaps.’

Her hand closed over it.

‘A portrait of my husband.’

‘Ah. I understand.’

Cassie did not reply, but gave her attention to finishing her breakfast. It was better that he thought she loved her husband. She was now sure enough of his character to know he would not wish to seduce another man’s wife.

They left Reims looking every inch a respectable couple. The trunk was packed and strapped on to the hired chaise, Cassie made herself comfortable inside, and Raoul rode as escort on the long-tailed bay. Their journey continued without incident. Cassie had given Raoul sufficient funds to pay for their board and lodgings, they were civil to one another when they stopped to dine on the road, and Raoul made no demur about sleeping in a dressing room at the wayside inn that provided their lodgings for the night. Their fear of discovery receded, too, for whereas the soldiers at the bridges and gendarmes at the town gates might question a pair of ragged travellers, a wealthy gentleman and his wife roused no suspicions and they were waved through without question. However, she agreed with Raoul that they should take a more circuitous route and avoid the main highway, which was constantly busy with soldiers. Their journey was going well. Raoul was very different from Merimon, her first, rascally escort, and she knew she was fortunate that he was such an honourable man.

Cassie wondered why, then, she should feel so discontented. Her eyes moved to the window and to the figure of Raoul, mounted upon the long tailed bay. She wanted him. She wanted him to hold her, to make love to her.

Shocking. Reprehensible. Frightening. She had already admitted to herself that eloping had been a mistake. How much more of a mistake to allow herself to develop a tendre for a man like Raoul Doulevant? A man whom she would not see again once she returned to England. Besides, it was nothing more than lust, she knew that. They were constantly at odds with one another and had he not told her himself he had no cause to like the English? Reluctantly she shifted her gaze away from him. No, much better to keep her distance, it would be madness to allow the undoubted attraction between them to take hold. If only she could forget what had happened in the lake, forget his kiss, the way it felt to have her naked body pressed close to his, the heat that had flowed between them despite the cool water.

She gave herself a little shake. The strong yearning she felt was because she was lonely. The last few months with Gerald had been very unhappy. She had no close friends in Verdun and loyalty had kept her from confiding her problems to anyone. Once she was back in England, living with Grandmama, taking up her old life again, she would be able to put from her mind her time in France. She smoothed out the skirts of her yellow muslin and tried to smother the quiet voice that told her Raoul Doulevant would not be easy to forget.

It was some time past noon and they were passing over a particularly uneven section of road when there was a sudden splintering crash and the carriage shuddered to a halt, lurching drunkenly into the ditch. Cassie was thrown from her seat and was lying dazed against the side of the carriage that now appeared to be the floor when the door above her opened. She heard Raoul’s voice, sharp with concern.

‘Are you hurt?’

Cassie moved cautiously.

‘I do not think so.’

He reached down to her. She grasped his hand and he lifted her out of the chaise and on to the ground. She found she was shaking and clung to Raoul for a moment until her legs would once more support her.

‘What happened?’ she asked him.

‘One of the wheels is broken,’ said Raoul, adding bitterly, ‘It is no surprise when you look at the state of the road. We should be thankful the windows did not shatter.’

‘Ah, well, you see, now the aristos are gone there’s no one to pay for the upkeep.’

They looked around to find a burly individual standing behind them. The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

‘The great house back there. When the family was in residence they paid handsomely to maintain this road in good condition for all their fine friends. Since they’ve gone...’ he shrugged ‘...no one around here cares to repair it for others to use.’

‘Who are you?’ Raoul asked him. ‘Do you live at the chateau?’

‘No, but I farm the land hereabouts and live in the grounds with my wife. Looking after the place, you might say.’

Cassie glanced through the trees towards the large house in the distance. The once-grand building looked decidedly sorry for itself, windows broken and shutters hanging off.

‘Then you are not looking after it very well,’ said Raoul, giving voice to Cassie’s thoughts.

‘Ah, good monsieur, I am but a humble farmer. The damage occurred when the family left.’ He spat on the ground. ‘They are either dead or fled abroad and I have neither the money nor authority to repair it. I merely keep an eye on it, so to speak.’

‘Enough,’ said Raoul. ‘It is not our concern. We need to get this chaise repaired, and quickly.’

The man lifted his cap and scratched his head.

‘The nearest wheelwright is back the way you came.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ Raoul muttered. ‘Even if we were riding we would be hard pressed to get back there by nightfall. Is there an inn nearby and perhaps a chaise that we might hire?’

The man spread his hands and shrugged. ‘Monsieur, I am desolated, but I have only a tumbril. The nearest inn is back in the town.’ He brightened. ‘But all is not lost. I can provide you with shelter for the night.’

Cassie looked to Raoul, but he had gone to help the postilion free the horses from the overturned chaise. Only when they were securely tethered to a tree did he return. The postilion was beside him and it was clear they had been considering the situation.

‘I think the best thing is for the post boy to take my horse and ride back to the town,’ said Raoul. ‘Tomorrow he can bring a new wheel and help to repair the chaise. In the meantime we need to stable the carriage horses.’

‘Well, the stables were burned out some years ago, but you can put them in the barn,’ replied the farmer genially. ‘And in the morning I have a team of oxen that we might use to pull the carriage out of the ditch. For a price, of course.’

‘Yes, well, we will come to that once the postilion has returned.’

Raoul issued a few brief instructions and the post boy scrambled up on to the bay. Cassie watched him trot away and turned back to where Raoul and the farmer were discussing the next problem.

‘We require a room for the night. You say you can accommodate us, how much will you charge?’

‘Ah, monsieur, my own house is small and my wife’s aged mother is bedridden, so I have no bedchamber I can offer for you. But do not despair, you and your lady are welcome to sleep in the barn.’

‘The barn!’ exclaimed Cassie.

‘But, yes, madame. It is a very good barn. The roof is sound and there is plenty of room for you and the horses. The animals keep it warm and there is plenty of clean straw.’

An indignant protest rose to Cassie’s lips, but Raoul put a warning hand on her shoulder.

‘Let us get the horses into shelter first,’ he said. ‘Then we will discuss our accommodation.’

Silently Cassie accompanied the two men as they led the horses off the road and through the gap in the hedge into the remains of the chateau’s formal gardens. The wide gravelled paths were so overgrown with weeds they were difficult to discern from the flowerbeds, and what had once been parterres and manicured lawns were now grazed by cattle. As they approached the house itself she could see it was in a very sorry state, the stucco was peeling, tiles had shifted on the roof and weeds flourished on the surrounding terrace. Cassie could not help exclaiming at the sight.

‘How sad to see such a fine house in ruins.’

‘There are many such places in France now, madame.’ The farmer grinned at her. ‘But it is empty and you are free to sleep there, if it’s more to your taste than my barn over there.’

The farmer indicated a collection of large buildings set back and to one side of the main house. Cassie guessed they had once been outhouses and servants’ quarters. What looked like the stable block was no more than a burned-out shell, but the other buildings and a small house beside it were now the farmer’s domain. He led the way to one of the large barns. The sweet smell of straw was overlaid with the stronger tang of cattle. Cassie quickly pulled out her handkerchief and held it over her nose. It did not surprise her that the carriage horses objected to being led inside, but with a little persuasion and encouragement from Raoul they were eventually stabled securely at one end of the great building, as far away as possible from the farmer’s oxen.

‘You see,’ declared their host, looking about him proudly, ‘there is plenty of room. So where would you like to sleep, here or in yonder palace?’

Cassie sent Raoul a beseeching look and prayed he would understand her.

Raoul grinned. ‘We’ll bed down in the chateau, my friend.’ He winked and gave the farmer’s arm a playful punch. ‘My wife has always considered herself a fine lady.’

The man shrugged. ‘It will cost you the same.’ He added, as Raoul counted out the money on to his palm, ‘You’ll find it pretty bare, monsieur, but ’tis weatherproof, mostly. I’ll bring your dinner in an hour, as well as candles and clean straw for your bed.’

Raoul added an extra coin. ‘Can you have our trunk brought in, too? I would not want it left at the roadside overnight.’

‘With pleasure, monsieur. My boy shall help me with it as soon as I’ve told the wife to prepare dinner for you.’

The farmer went off, gazing with satisfaction at the money in his hand.

‘We might perhaps have argued for a lower price,’ observed Raoul, ‘but I suspect the fellow will serve us well in the hope of earning himself a little extra before we leave here tomorrow.’ He turned to Cassie. ‘Shall we go and inspect our quarters?’

He held out his arm and she placed her fingers on his sleeve.

‘I am relieved that I do not have to sleep with the animals,’ she confessed.

‘I could see that the idea did not appeal. However, I doubt the chateau will be much better. I expect everything of value has been removed.’

‘We shall see.’

Her optimistic tone cheered him. He had expected an angry demand that they should go on to find an inn and was fully prepared to ask her just how she thought they were to get there with no saddle horse. There was also the trunk to be considered; having purchased it he did not think she would wish to leave it behind. But instead of being discontented the lady appeared sanguine, even eager to explore the chateau. They went up the steps to the terrace and carefully pulled open one of the long windows. The glass had shattered and it scrunched beneath their feet as they stepped into a large, high-ceilinged salon. A few pieces of broken furniture were strewn over the marble floor, the decorative plasterwork of the fireplace was smashed and there were signs in one corner that someone had tried to set light to the building. He heard Cassie sigh.

‘Oh, this is so sad, to think of the family driven out of their home.’

‘It was no more than they deserved, if they oppressed those dependent upon them.’

‘But you do not know that they did,’ she reasoned. ‘In England we heard many tales of innocent families being forced to flee for their lives.’

‘What else would you expect them to say? They would hardly admit that they lived in luxury while people were starving.’

‘No doubt you believe it was right to send so many men and women to the guillotine, merely because of their birth.’

‘Of course not. But I do not believe a man’s birth gives him the right to rule others. Aristocrats like yourself are brought up to believe you belong to a superior race and the English are the very worst!’

Cassie smiled. ‘You will not expect me to agree with you on that, monsieur.’ She looked around her once again. ‘But while I admit there are good and bad people in the world, I cannot believe that all France’s great families were bad landlords. Some will have fled because there was no reasoning with a powerful mob.’

‘But before that the king and his court were too powerful, and would not listen to reason,’ Raoul argued.

‘Perhaps.’ She walked to the centre of the room and turned around slowly, looking about her. ‘I grew up in rooms very like this. A large, cold mansion, far too big to be comfortable. I much prefer Grandmama’s house in Royal Crescent. That is in Bath,’ she explained.

‘I have heard of it,’ he said. ‘It has the hot baths, does it not?’

‘Yes. Many elderly and sick people go there to take the waters.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘And many wealthy people who think they are sick enjoy living there, too, and pay high prices for dubious treatments. The doctors of Bath have grown fat giving out pills and placebos to the rich and privileged. It is not as fashionable as it once was, but it is still very pleasant with its concerts, and balls and the theatre, and all one’s friends in such close proximity. I lived there very happily with Grandmama until...’

‘Until you met your husband?’

‘Yes. I have not seen Bath for nearly eighteen months.’

‘You must have had the very great love to elope with this man,’ he said. ‘To give up your family and friends, everything you knew.’

He saw a shadow flicker across her eyes before she turned away from him.

‘Yes.’

Cassie hurried across the room, giving Raoul no time to question her further. A very great love? It had been a very great foolishness. She had ignored Grandmama’s warnings and thrown her cap over the windmill. She had been in love with Gerald then. Or at least, she had thought herself in love, but the last few months had brought her nothing but pain and disillusion. She had learned that love could not make one happy, it was merely a device used by men to delude poor, foolish females. She had witnessed it often enough in Verdun, especially amongst Gerald’s friends. A gentleman would profess himself hopelessly in love, then as soon as he had seduced the object of his affection the passion would fade and he would move on to another lover. A salutary lesson and one she would never forget.

Pushing aside the unwelcome thoughts, Cassie grasped the handles of the double doors and threw them wide, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of the once-magnificent ballroom before her. ‘Oh, how wonderful it must have been to dance in a room such as this!’

She wandered into the cavernous space. The walls were pale primrose with huge blocks of darker yellow where large paintings had once hung. Between the windows were gilded mirror frames, the glass shattered and glittering on the floor. At each end of the room four Italian-marble pillars rose up and supported a ceiling that was decorated with a glorious scene of cherubs playing hide-and-seek amongst white clouds.

‘Oh, how I loved to dance,’ she murmured wistfully. ‘Grandmama took me to so many assemblies in Bath and it is one of the things I have missed most since my marriage. Gerald never took me to balls.’

A wave of unhappiness washed over her, so suddenly that it took her by surprise. She pressed her clasped hands to her chest and was obliged to bite her lip to hold back a sob. It had been a shock to discover so recently that her husband had escorted plenty of other ladies to balls in Verdun. She was a fool to let it upset her now. Gerald could never resist a pretty woman. In the end that had been his downfall.

Raoul watched as sadness clouded her face and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to drive the unhappiness from her eyes. He stepped closer, saying recklessly,

‘Then let us dance now.’

She frowned at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I say we should dance.’

She laughed as he plucked the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it aside.

‘But we have no music, monsieur.’

‘I will sing for us.’ He took her hand. ‘What shall it be, the Allemande?’

He started to hum a lively tune and bowed. Cassie looked a little bemused, but she followed his lead, singing along quietly as she twisted beneath his arm and stretched up to let him turn beneath hers. By the time they performed the rosette, holding both hands and twirling at the same time, she was giggling too much to sing. Raoul persevered, leading her through the dance steps again. He felt inordinately pleased that he had put that troubled look to flight and as they skipped and stepped and twirled about his imagination took flight.

They were no longer dancing in a derelict house, but in a glittering ballroom with the most accomplished musicians playing for them. The music soared in his head and he imagined them both dressed in their finery. He could almost feel the shirt of finest linen against his skin, the starched folds of the neckcloth with a single diamond nestling at his throat. And instead of that poor yellow muslin, Cassie was wearing a ball gown of silk with diamonds glittering against her skin, although nothing could outshine the glow of her eyes as she looked up at him. When they performed the final rosette and ended, hands locked, she was laughing up at Raoul in a way that made his heart leap into his throat, stopping his breath.

Time stopped, too, as their eyes met. Raoul had felt this same connection between them before, but this time it was stronger, like a thread drawing them together. He watched the laughter die from those violet-blue eyes, replaced by a softer, warmer look that melted his heart and set his pulse racing even faster. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt light-headed and quite unsteady. His grip on her hands tightened. Those cherry-red lips were only inches away, inviting his kiss.

Cassie’s heart was beating so heavily that it was difficult to breathe. Raoul was standing before her, holding her hands, filling her senses. He was all she could see, his ragged breathing the only sound she heard. She was swathed in his powerful presence and it felt wonderful.

Kiss me.

She read it in his eyes. An order, a plea that went straight to her heart and filled her soul. She clung to his hands, trembling. She desperately wanted to close the gap between them and step into his arms, but above the excitement and exhilaration that filled her an alarm bell clamoured, faint but insistent. She knew there would be no going back if she gave in now. Raoul would take her, consume her, and she would be lost. It was a perilous situation; she was a widow, alone in an enemy country.

Strange, that this foolish, impromptu dance had so quickly driven all her troubles from her mind, but now that alarm bell could not be ignored. It was not just the physical perils that threatened her. She had thought Gerald had broken her heart, but now some instinct told her that if she gave herself to Raoul the parting would be much, much worse. That thought frightened her more than all the rest and made her fight for control.

She dragged up a laugh. ‘Well, that has surprised me.’

Clearly not a gentleman!

Those scornful words echoed in Raoul’s brain, reminding him of the gulf between them. He dropped her hands and moved away, allowing his indignation to turn into anger. It was necessary, if he was to combat this attraction that could only end in disaster. He should be pleased she was in no danger of falling in love with him. He had no room for a woman in his life and he would not want her broken heart on his conscience.

‘Yes, you considered me a savage, did you not?’ he threw at her. ‘Because I have not lived in your exalted circles. Whatever you might think of me, madame, my birth is respectable even if I was not born into the nobility. We moved amongst the first families of Brussels. My father was a doctor, a gentleman. It was I who let him down; I was determined to become a surgeon, despite the fact that many still regard them as mere tradesmen.’ He turned his finger, stabbing angrily into the air. ‘That is where the future lies, in a man’s skill and knowledge, not in his birth. But you and your kind do not recognise that yet. My father never recognised it, either. He was disappointed; he had such high hopes of me.’

Cassie saw the fire in his eyes and heard the bitterness behind his harsh words, but she knew his anger was not directed at her. He had misunderstood her, but in his present mood it would be useless to try and explain so she made no attempt to correct him.

She said carefully, ‘Parents are always ambitious for their children. At least, I believe that is the case. My own parents died when I was very young, but Grandmama always wanted the best for me. It must have grieved her most dreadfully when I eloped.’ She touched his arm, saying gently, ‘There must still be a little time before the farmer will bring our dinner. Shall we continue to explore?’

Raoul shrugged.

‘Why not?’ he said lightly. He scooped her shawl from the floor and laid it around her shoulders. She noted how carefully he avoided actually touching her. ‘Lead on, madame.’

The magical moment was broken, shattered like the ornate mirrors and tall windows. She felt the chill of disappointment and tried hard to be thankful that she had not weakened. A momentary lapse now would cost her dear.

The chateau had been stripped bare and they did not linger on the upper floors. Cassie pulled her shawl a little closer around her as the shadows lengthened and the chill of evening set in. She had been a child when the revolution in France had begun, only ten years old when King Louis had been murdered. It had been the talk of English drawing rooms and inevitably the news had reached the schoolroom, too. She had listened to the stories, but only now, standing in this sad shell of a house, did she have any conception of the hate and fear that must have been rife in France. She could only be thankful that such a bloody revolution had not occurred in England.

‘It grows dark,’ said Raoul. ‘We should go down and look out for our host.’

Cassie readily agreed. The stairs were in semi-darkness and when Raoul reached for her hand she did not pull away. She told herself it was merely a precaution, lest she trip in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the comfort she gained from his warm grasp. They heard the farmer’s deep voice bellowing from somewhere in the lower regions of the house and as they reached the hall he emerged from the basement stairs.

‘So there you are,’ he greeted them. ‘We’ve put your dinner in the kitchen and my boy is lighting a fire there now. You’ll find ’tis the most comfortable room, the windows are intact and there’s a table, too.’

They followed him down to the servants’ quarters and through a maze of dark corridors until they reached the kitchen. It was a large chamber, but a cheerful fire burned in the huge fireplace and numerous candles had been placed about the room to provide light. A plump woman with a spotless apron tied over her cambric gown was setting out their dinner on the scrubbed wooden table and the farmer introduced her as his wife. She looked up and fixed her sharp black eyes upon Raoul and Cassie. It was a blatantly curious stare and not a little scornful. Cassie’s head lifted and haughty words rose to her lips, but she fought them down. She had no wish to antagonise the woman, so she smiled and tried to speak pleasantly.

‘It is very good of you to let us stay here tonight.’

The woman relaxed slightly.

‘Eh bien, your money’s good and I suppose you will prefer this to sharing a bedchamber with the animals. The boy’ll be over with a couple of sacks of straw later and he’ll collect the dishes, too.’ She pointed to a small door in the corner of the room. ‘There’s a water pump in the scullery. It still works, if you need it.’

‘Thank you.’

The woman moved towards the door.

‘We will leave you, then.’ She gave a reluctant curtsy and followed her husband out into the dusk.

‘We should eat.’ Raoul indicated the bench.

They sat together and Cassie was relieved that there would be no awkward glances across the table. In fact, there was no need to look at him at all. They were facing the fireplace, where the fire crackled merrily and they could eat their meal in companionable silence. But it was not companionable, it pressed around her, pricking at her conscience and making her uneasy. At last she was unable to bear it any longer and had to speak, however inane her conversation.

‘This is where they would have cooked the food,’ she said at last, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames.

‘Yes.’ Raoul reached across to pick up the wine flask and poured more into their glasses. ‘The turning-spit mechanism and all the cooking irons have been plundered. No doubt they have found a home elsewhere, or been melted down and turned into farm tools.’

Cassie picked up her wine glass and turned it this way and that, so that the crystal glinted and sparkled in the candlelight.

‘These are very fine, perhaps the owners of this house used to drink from them.’

‘And now they are being used by their tenants,’ remarked Raoul coolly. ‘It is merely a redistribution of wealth.’

Her chin went up a little and she turned to regard him. ‘Something you heartily approve.’

Raoul met her eyes steadily. ‘I have never approved of violence, Lady Cassandra. It is my calling to save lives, not take them.’

She turned her gaze back to the fireplace, knowing she did not wish to fight him tonight.

‘So they cooked on an open fire. How old-fashioned,’ she murmured, thinking of the closed range in Grandmama’s house in Bath.

‘There might well have been a dozen or more servants in here,’ Raoul replied. ‘Slaving to provide meals for their masters.’

‘Not necessarily slaving,’ Cassie demurred. ‘In Bath my grandmother was at pains to provide the very best equipment for her cook. She said he is a positive tyrant.’

‘Yet she has the power to dismiss him on a whim.’

Cassie shook her head, smiling a little. ‘You are wrong, sir. The man is very aware of his own worth and paid well for his skills, I assure you. He also is the one with the power to hire or dismiss his staff as he wishes.’ Her smile grew. ‘And before you berate me again for the inequality of English society, I would tell you, monsieur, that the cook is a Frenchman.’

He grinned, acknowledging the hit.

‘Very well, I will admit that it is in most men’s nature to be a tyrant if they are not checked.’ He turned slightly and raised his glass to her. ‘A truce, Lady Cassandra?’

She returned his salute. ‘A truce, Monsieur Doulevant.’

They returned their attention to the food, but the atmosphere had changed. Cassie no longer felt at odds with her companion and she was a great deal happier.

A basket of logs had been placed near the fireplace, but the size of the hearth was such that it was soon emptied and by the time the farmer’s boy brought over their bedding and carried away the empty dishes the room was growing chilly.

‘We should get some sleep,’ said Raoul. ‘We will have another busy day tomorrow.’

There were two sacks of straw. Raoul placed one on either side of the kitchen table and handed Cassie one of the two blankets that had been provided.

‘Your bed awaits, my lady.’

She tried to make herself comfortable, but the sack was not well filled and the straw flattened quickly beneath her. She could not help a sigh that sounded very loud in the quiet, echoing kitchen.

‘Is it not luxurious enough for you, my lady?’

Tiredness made her irritable and she snapped back.

‘This is not what I expected when I left Verdun.’

‘I am surprised your husband agreed to your travelling alone.’

‘He did not agree. He’s—’

She bit off the words.

‘He what?’ Raoul asked suspiciously. ‘He does not know?’

‘That is true.’

It was not exactly a lie. Cassie knew it would sink her even further in his estimation, yet she was unwilling to admit she was a widow. She clung to the belief that there was some small protection in having a husband.

‘But of course. You told me yourself that you grew bored at Verdun. Tiens, I feel even more sympathy for your spouse, madame. You have quite literally abandoned him, have you not?’

The darkness was filled with his disapproval. It cut her and she responded by saying sharply, ‘That is not your concern.’

‘No indeed. Mon Dieu, but you are a heartless woman!’

‘You know nothing about me!’

Tell him, Cassie. Explain how you remained with your husband, endured the pain and humiliation of knowing he only wanted your fortune.

Pride kept her silent. Better Raoul should think her heartless than a fool. She turned on her side and pulled the thin blanket a little closer around her. ‘Oh, how I pray there will be a ship in Rouen that will carry me all the way to England,’ she muttered angrily. ‘The sooner we can say goodbye to one another the better.’

He gave a bark of bitter laughter.

‘Amen to that, my lady!’