Miss Weston's Masquerade (22 page)

The first person she encountered as she crossed the passage to the ballroom was the languid figure of the Comte de Courcelles. As she stood there, unable to believe her eyes, she saw first puzzlement, then dawning recognition cross his features.

For one desperate moment, she believed he had not recognised her, then he stepped forward with both hands outstretched. ‘Can it be?
Mon Dieu
, what a transformation from Paris! Just as I suspected, Cass the valet makes a very beautiful young woman.’

It was useless to deny it and speculation and mischief lit up his face. ‘Guy, what are you doing here, of all places?’

‘Why, I have just arrived in Vienna and I make it my business to have an
entrée
to all the most interesting entertainments. And you,’ he gestured to her finery, ‘you look beautiful. What a change from fustian and breeches. What are you doing here?’

‘Ssh! Say nothing about that. This is my come-out.’ Cassandra put her hand on his arm and drew him back into the ballroom. ‘Lady Lydford is my godmother.’

‘But, of course, I remember from our conversation in the library in Paris.’ There was a pause and Cassandra was aware of his scrutiny. ‘You are sad, little one. Why so, on your big night?’

‘It is nothing I can talk about, and in any case, it is all my own silly fault.’ She gave him a watery smile. ‘You are kind, Guy, but there is nothing you can do to help.’

The Count shrugged, ‘Perhaps it will seem better tomorrow.’

He broke off as Cassandra gasped at the sight of a beautiful woman waltzing past in the arms of a cavalry officer. ‘But that was Mariette.’ The spiteful card player from the Paris party was unmistakable. ‘What is she doing here?’

‘I made the mistake of offering her escort from Paris.’ He shook his head. ‘She is as sharp as a needle.’

Cassandra could see the woman’s gaze riveted on them now. There was recognition and malicious speculation on her kittenish face. The look boded trouble.

‘Ah, Miss Weston. We have missed you, I am quite pining away, I assure you.’

Anyone less in danger of pining away than Lord Stewart would be hard to find, Cassandra reflected. She saw, with slight alarm, the steely glint in his eye as he glanced at Guy’s hand resting over hers.

‘Lord Stewart, I am so sorry. That silly girl took such an age to do my hem. And on my way back I met the Count…’ Her voice trailed away. How was she to explain her familiarity with the Frenchman when she supposedly had only just come out into Society?

‘An old friend of the family,’ Guy supplied easily. ‘Guy de Montpensier, Comte de Courcelles, at your service,
monsieur
.’

‘Anthony, Lord Stewart.’ The two exchanged formal bows. ‘Miss Weston, I came to claim my dance. I am on your card, I believe?’

‘I think not, my lord,’ said Cassandra, summoning up composure from somewhere. ‘I have already stood up with you twice, which some might think very forward. I dare not do so again.’

‘Excellent,’ the Count exclaimed. ‘So that means this dance is free? Please do me the honour.’

It was a waltz. Although the Count had not been presented to her as an approved partner for the dance, Cassandra was beyond caring. Perhaps Godmama would not notice.

Guy encircled her waist lightly and, as the music began, asked, ‘Is that the one who is breaking your heart?’

‘No! I mean, no-one is.’ Across the ballroom she saw Nicholas, his expression suddenly arrested as he saw her dancing past with the Count.

‘Nonsense. Do you expect me to believe that? Tell me who it is and I will run him through for you.’

Cassandra could not suppress a somewhat shaky giggle.

‘That is better. Now, tell me how I can help you.’

Cassandra circled in his arms, her eyes fixed on the solitaire diamond in his cravat, and wished she could pour out the story to him as easily as she had told the tale of her flight, that night in the library in Paris.

‘Truly, Guy, no-one can help me.’ She looked up into the sympathetic brown eyes and the attractive, ugly, face. ‘Not even you. I have been foolish, and it hurts, but I must live with that.’

As they left the dance floor, Anthony Stewart appeared at their side as if by magic.

‘You may not feel able to dance with me, Miss Weston, but surely I may claim you for supper?’ He extended his arm to her, with a challenging glance at Guy.

‘But surely, Cassandra, you will not abandon an old friend on his first night in Vienna?’ the Count pressed in his turn.

Cassandra looked from one to the other and felt herself wilting with the heat and tension. ‘Gentlemen, you must both forgive me, but the heat…’

‘My dear Miss Weston, allow me to take you to the terrace.’ Guy must have seen her doubtful look and he hastened to reassure her. ‘Several of the chaperones are already out there, and some other parties have taken their supper outside.’

‘That would be wonderful.’ Suddenly the swirling colours and the noise of the ballroom on top of the shocks of the evening were too much. Fresh air and the cool flagstones of the terrace would be soothing.

The Count propelled her gently towards the French windows. ‘Out you go,
ma petite
, and we,’ he cast a resigned look at Lord Stewart, who was obviously not going to give ground, ‘will fetch you some supper and a little champagne.’

The cool air struck the heated skin at her breast and forehead as Cassandra wandered slowly across the terrace to a pillared belvedere which stood empty, looking out across the gardens. She rested her brow against a fluted column for a moment and let her mind empty. Tomorrow she would have to think, to plan, but tonight that was beyond her.

‘Oh, Nicholas,’ she whispered against the cold stone.

‘Cassandra.’ His voice behind her came so prompt on her words, she thought for one mad moment she had conjured him up out of her imagination

‘Nicholas?’ She turned and saw him, unmistakably real, the moonlight striking dark lights from his hair.

She knew she had gone pale, but he did not seem to notice.

'I thought I was never going to get you alone.' He took her by the elbow and steered her further into the shadows, his voice low and serious. 'I must speak to you.'

‘No, Nicholas you have said quite enough,’ Cassandra began, certain he was about to confide the news of his betrothal to Lucy to her. She needed at least a night to compose herself to hear that news with anything like an appearance of complacency. She lifted her skirts and tried to brush past him.

‘Wait, please hear me out.’ He took her by the shoulders, holding her back against the pillar.

Cassandra shivered as the stone struck cold through the thin silk and Nicholas drew her closer to his warmth. ‘Don’t be frightened of me, Cassandra. I know I’ve been short tempered and difficult to be with…’ He broke off, running one hand through his hair distractedly. ‘No, damn it, I’ve been harsh and unfair.’

‘I understand.’ And she thought she did. He must have been on tenterhooks, worried that his suit with Lucy Hartley would not prosper. It was enough to make any man short tempered, and then to discover her deceit in Venice would have been the last straw.

Nicholas stroked the back of one hand lingeringly down her cheek. ‘We have both behaved badly, there are things I regret.’

‘There is no need. The regrets are all mine,’ she said thinly.

‘You don’t seem to realise the position we find ourselves in. I had not intended to say anything of this to you tonight, but now that Guy and that little witch Mariette are here, everything is changed.’

‘But why?’ Cassandra was confused. ‘He was so pleased to see me, he is your friend.’

‘So he is, and an indiscreet mischief-maker when he chooses, although Guy’s capacity for trouble is nothing as compared to Mariette’s. She bears me a grudge. One word that they met you in Paris disguised as a boy, and you are hopelessly compromised. Ruined.’

‘But Guy wouldn’t betray me,’ she protested indignantly. ‘And surely Mariette cannot be that wicked?’

‘I cannot take the risk.’ He broke off and regarded her with exasperation. ‘This is not at all what I intended. Please, listen to me, Cassandra, and for once in your life, do not interrupt.’

Cassandra fell silent, watching his face in the moonlight. No doubt he was irritated that he had had to take time from his newly-betrothed to speak to her.

‘What I am trying to say, Cassandra, is, will you marry me?’

Cassandra stared at him, lips parted in stunned amazement. When she could find words, she stammered, ‘Marry? Me? Marry you? But Lucy – ’

‘So you know I’ve spoken to her? Don’t worry, Cassandra, no-one else knows, and Lucy will understand, she is entirely in my confidence.’

‘
Understand
?’ What could he say, what could any honourable gentleman say, to explain why he was breaking an engagement only hours after making it?

‘I will explain everything to her. But, Cassandra, never mind about Lucy, what is your answer?’

What could she answer to a man whose lunatic concept of honour would lead him to jilt one young lady in order to protect the reputation of another he did not love?

‘I thought I had seen you at your worst, Nicholas.’ She stepped free of his arms, drawing herself up, anger shaking every word. ‘But I did not think I would live to be so insulted by you, or to see you behave so dishonourably.’ Her fury seemed to burn away every tender feeling she had ever had for him. ‘Now I see how you can behave – ’

‘Cassandra, you cannot have understood me. I repeat, I wish you to become my wife. Why are you acting as if I had offered you a
carte blanche
?’

‘Sir, I consider your behaviour as dishonourable as if you had asked me to become your mistress! Now, let me go.’ She spat the last words at him and ran across the terrace, tears burning at the back of her throat.

She managed to evade Nicholas in the maze of small passages that led off the ballroom, but one pursuer found her as she threw herself onto a heap of cushions in the window seat of the small salon, and finally burst into tears.

Someone gathered her up; for a moment, she struggled, then she saw it was Guy, not Nicholas, and capitulated, sobbing bitterly into his shirt front.

He waited patiently until the tears subsided, then found her a handkerchief and sat her back in the cushions. ‘Now, do not tell me there is nothing I can do to help. I can at least listen. Speak to me, Cassandra.’

Once again she found herself pouring out her story to him.

When the whole sorry tale was told, Guy was silent for several minutes. Cassandra sat staring blankly at a vase of flowers which swam in and out of focus before her tired eyes. Confiding everything to Guy had left her drained.

‘Of course,' he said thoughtfully, ‘if it were only myself involved, I would go to Nicholas and assure him my lips were sealed. But there is Mariette. If I appeal to her good nature, which does not exist, she will know there is a scandal to be made. Yet if I say nothing, we can still be certain she will make trouble. She has no love for Nicholas. He has repulsed her too often and what he said to you shows he is aware of that danger.’

He fell back into thought. His solution, when it came, was so startling, Cassandra was jerked back to reality with a vengeance. ‘You could always marry me.’

She stared at him incredulously, scarcely able to credit what she had heard. ‘What? You mean elope? Guy, you don’t want to marry me, how would that help either of us?’

He shrugged insouciantly. ‘I have been thinking lately that perhaps I should marry, settle down. Domesticity has its charms.’ He smiled at her. ‘It might suit both of us very well, but, of course, I do not press you if you are unwilling.
Naturellement
, you would stay with my housekeeper and I will stay at an inn, so you can feel quite comfortable. We will announce our engagement: there will be some talk, but with my reputation,
c'est le vie
. That will convince Nicholas that he is free to do the honourable thing by Miss Lucy. And if you decide afterwards you do not wish to marry me, we can quietly break off the engagement.’

Cassandra rubbed one hand across her eyes, wondering if she were asleep and dreaming. She could never marry him, as he was so light-heartedly suggesting, but he was right, this would offer her a breathing space. And, more importantly, it would force Nicholas’s hand.

‘Do not worry,
ma petite
. You can trust me, you know.’

‘I don’t doubt that for a moment,’ Cassandra assured him. He might be a rake, but he was a gentleman.

‘So why do you hesitate?’ He shrugged, ‘We are friends, are we not? After a good night’s sleep, this will all seem simpler. Tomorrow is another day.’

Cassandra couldn’t believe she was even considering his offer. ‘Guy, I can’t do it. What of your reputation?’

Guy laughed. ‘It could only be enhanced by your company.’

‘No,’ Cassandra stood up. ‘I am sorry, Guy, but I cannot accept your offer, it would not be fair of me, nor honourable.’ She looked up and caught his wry smile. ‘But we can still be friends, can’t we? You are the only one I can talk to.’

‘Ah,
ma petite
, of course. And I will not accept this as final. My offer still stands if you change your mind.’

‘I must go and find Nicholas and make sure he says nothing to Lucy to break their engagement.’ She shook her head in bewilderment. ‘I do not know what he was thinking of, to behave so dishonourably.’

‘Do not judge him too harshly. He is worried about you and he did not take the time to think this thing through. I have a reputation as an
intrigant
, but he should know I would never risk the reputation of a lady.’ He raised her hand to her lips, then gave her a gentle push towards the ballroom.

Godmama and Miss Fox were sitting, heads together, on a satin covered banquette just inside the door, talking animatedly. Cassandra paused to make sure they didn’t see her as she slipped past and remark her reddened eyes, then was caught by what they were saying.

‘My dear Sophia,’ Miss Fox exclaimed, with unusual animation. ‘I do congratulate you. What an excellent match, what a charming daughter-in-law she will make.’

‘Well, I must admit to some anxiety, my dear Araminta. He seemed so slow to recognise what was perfectly plain to me, that he was in love with the girl. But men can be so dense!’ For a few seconds, the two ladies contemplated the frailties of the male sex, then Lady Lydford added, ‘It will be such a suitable match, she has the looks, the charm, the character, to make him happy. When he told me he was going to ask her this evening, I was overjoyed. I do wish he would come and tell me he has been accepted. Where is he?’

As the two ladies scanned the dance floor, Cassandra slipped past behind a column and began her own search. So he had told his mother about Lucy. It was even more important now to make sure he did nothing to break the betrothal.

She found him at last on the terrace, but to her horror, not alone. Lucy Hartley sat by his side, one hand confidingly on his sleeve while she listened intently to his words. It was impossible to hear what he was saying, but the effect was clear to see.

Lucy’s expression changed from concentration to one of shock and dismay. Then she fumbled in her reticule and dabbed her eyes with a delicate handkerchief, her face averted from Nicholas.

Cassandra did not wait to see anything else. It was too late to stop him now, but if she was out of the way, already ruined by some other action, then there was nothing to stop him marrying Lucy. And if she acted now, quickly, before the broken engagement became a public scandal, perhaps the gentle Miss Hartley might forgive him and take him back.

Lucy was not the sort of person who would blurt out the news of her jilting in public, she would have too much pride and sense of decorum. Cassandra thought she had until tomorrow morning at most to put things right, but she must act now and find Guy.

He was where she had left him. One look at her face as she entered the room brought him to his feet, his hands outstretched to her.

‘It’s too late, Guy, he’s already broken off the engagement.’

‘
Sacre bleu
! So, what do you want to do now, Cassandra?’

‘I don’t know, I just do not know,’ she aid. I love Nicholas, I cannot allow him to ruin his life.’

‘Then come away with me,’ Guy urged. ‘Whatever madness is possessing him at the moment, he is an honourable man. He cannot marry both of you. By coming with me, you free him for Lucy.’

Cassandra stopped her agitated pacing in front of him and stood looking deep into his eyes. She saw the concern there, and knew she could trust him, however madcap and unconventional he seemed.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said resolutely. ‘I’ll come with you, Guy.’

Guy took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. ‘Don’t worry, things will work out.’

He sounded very light-hearted about the whole business, Cassandra thought. She only wished she could share his optimism. ‘I will come with you. I love Nicholas and if I cannot marry him, I will marry no-one. For his sake, he must marry Lucy, and you are right. If I am apparently engaged to you, he will believe himself free of his obligation and can follow his heart.’

‘You have had an idea?’

‘Yes. As soon as Nicholas is convinced of our intentions and the marriage to Lucy is announced, I will throw myself on Miss Fox’s mercy. She will find me an eligible situation.’

It sounded a neat solution, but she had an uneasy feeling that, in reality, things would not fall out so easily. That did not matter now, the important thing was to convince Nicholas she had gone beyond his reach.

As she had come to expect, Guy raised none of the objections she was so uneasily aware of. ‘Very well, then, it will be as you say.’

‘We must think what to do now,’ Cassandra said. Having made the momentous decision to flee with Guy, she now felt stronger. ‘We must act quickly so Nicholas has a chance of retrieving matters with Lucy, and I must leave a note for Godmama telling her I am going to marry you. She wishes Nicholas to marry Lucy, so she will do everything to promote the match.’

‘Is there a room where you can write without being interrupted?’

‘My room would be best,’ Cassandra decided quickly. ‘No-one would expect to find me there now. Come.’ she took him by the hand and led him through the maze of passages to her deserted bedchamber.

Once she had begun to write the words came easily from her pen. She explained that she had met the Count in Paris and fallen in love and now they had met again and seized their chance of happiness. Godmama would be deeply shocked, and the thought pained her, but at least the Dowager would feel free to wash her hands of such an erring goddaughter.

She pressed a wafer over the folded paper to seal it and slipped quietly along to Lady Lydford’s bedchamber. The bed was already turned down, ready for when the Dowager finally came to bed. Cassandra heard the chime of the little clock as she laid the letter on the lace-trimmed pillow. She hesitated for a moment beside the bed, hoping her godmother would forgive her.

Once she had gone with Guy, there would be no turning back, Nicholas would be lost to her forever. Then she remembered Lucy’s white arms encircling his neck so lovingly, and hardened her resolution. He was already lost.

Three o’clock already. Soon the ball would be over, carriages were even now collecting weary revellers, and the street outside was growing noisy with the rumble of coach wheels and the cries of porters summoning coachmen.