Chapter 11
11
CHAPTER 11
T he viscountess started as the sound of a carriage approaching the bridge echoed in the silence. Cassandra pulled her dagger free of her dress. She flung herself back against the heavy stone railings as the sound of a pistol shot rang out. The ball struck those railings at the very spot where she’d stood. Lady Mary screamed like a demented banshee and was on her in a thrice, doing her best to push Cassandra over the bridge into to the icy, rushing Thames below them.
Fight, Cassandra, dammit, fight! She forced herself to raise her dagger and tried to strike the woman everywhere, anywhere to slow her assault. Unfortunately, her fingers were nearly frozen and the dagger slipped from her fingers onto the cobbles of the bridge. A carriage thundered onto the bridge and came towards them. A flash of white erupted from the back of Lady Mary’s carriage. Cassandra shoved the viscountess back and tried to reach for her knife. The older woman beat her to the blade and turned back pinning Cassandra to the bridge railings. Cassandra slapped and punched to no avail.
Screaming invective, spittle at the corner of her mouth like a mad dog, Mary Rushton-Coates had the strength that only comes from violent lunatic rage. She raised the blade high so that the silver and jewels glinted in the moonlight.
“Ger’ off, ya mad bitch!” Dickie Jones came out of nowhere and latched onto the viscountess like a rat terrier. She turned and stabbed him in the shoulder so hard the dagger stuck. Dickie screamed in pain. Cassandra reached for him. Angry male voices and running footsteps reached her ears, but she had all she could handle fending off the viscountess.
“Cassandra!” Derek’s beloved voice cut through the roar in her ears.
“Dickie! Dickie!” Mister Carrington-Bowles was here?
“I’ve got him, my lord. Give the lad to me.” And young Rutherford?
“How badly is he hurt? Dickie, what the devil were you thinking?” Charpentier sounded furious. She would be too. What the bloody hell?
Suddenly the viscountess clutched Cassandra by the shoulders and leapt up to shove her hard against the railings. Cassandra’s feet slipped. She fell back and grabbed the viscountess as she did. They both went over the railings. Cassandra screamed. She felt a sudden jerk and glanced up, one hand gripped tightly onto the finial of the railings. Derek hung half over the bridge both hands wrapped around her flailing free arm. Her hand on the finial began to slip. A heavy weight was dragging her toward the water.
“Don’t let go,” Derek begged. “Please, my love, don’t let go.”
She took a quick look down. The viscountess clung to her legs. Cassandra did not know if the woman was trying to pull herself up or pull her down. She tried to kick at her. The bitch dug her nails into Cassandra’s flesh through the thin wool of her maid’s dress.
“Cassandra,” Derek called. “Look at me. Look only at me.”
She did as he asked. Never had she seen his eyes so full of love. Never had she heard such determination in his voice.
“I’ve got you. I won’t let go.” He leaned back and pulled. She rose slowly toward him. The closer she drew to him the harder she kicked. Suddenly Archer Colwyn and a man she’d never seen before each latched onto one of Derek’s arms and helped him to pull her the last few feet. She heard a brief scream and a splash as she collapsed onto Derek who had fallen to his knees.
“Cassandra, Cassandra,” he murmured repeatedly as he caressed her hair and kissed her. “Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?” He ran his hands over her body. “You’re freezing.” He wrestled his great coat off and wrapped the heavy wool garment around her. The heat of his body and the scent that was his alone made the coat a refuge. She pressed her forehead to his.
“I thought I was going to die.” She choked on the words and did her best not to cry.
“I thought so too.” He kissed her hard and stood whilst lifting her to her feet. “And when I have time to think about it, I shall very likely spank you thoroughly.”
“That sounds very stimulating, my lord.” She clung to his arms unwilling to release him for even a moment. He chuckled softly. “I shall have to be a disobedient child more often.”
“Child!” Derek looked about frantically.
“Dickie,” Cassandra gasped. “Oh my God, Dickie!”
“Looked to be a minor wound,” the tall, elegant stranger said evenly. “Mister Charpentier and his friend took him in my mother’s carriage. Mother’s coachman appears to have fled, so that young footman drove. He said to tell you to meet them at Lady Camilla’s? The Lady Camilla, I assume.”
“The very same,” Archer Colwyn said. “We had better hope Dickie’s wound is minor. He is a particular pet of Lady Camilla’s. Speaking of mothers…” The Runner leaned over the railing and looked up and down the river, a black ribbon under the light of the moon and the gaslights on the bridge.
Cassandra and Derek joined them at the railings. Derek’s arm around her had never felt so wonderful.
“The river has her,” the stranger said. “I imagine she’ll show up somewhere around Limehouse.”
“Your mother?” Cassandra nearly staggered as everything hit her at once. Derek touched her face. “The viscountess was your mother?”
“ Was being the important word,” the stranger said as he offered her a bow. “Viscount Daily, miss. At your service. My apologies for…well everything.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, that is. She was your mother.”
“No, she was the woman who gave birth to me. My mother is ensconced in the dower house at my country estate. Alice Winters was my nanny from the day I was born. She raised me, loved me, and protected me from the demon that gave birth to me. The woman who tried to kill you was mother to my brother, Roger Rushton, whom I understand you rid the world of, for which you have my thanks.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Cassandra replied. His expression made her want to reach out to him, to comfort him. How did one comfort a man with such a family?
“Roger was not a good man, Missus Collins. I spent my life keeping his secrets and covering up misdeeds you cannot begin to imagine.” They exchanged a look. “Or perhaps you can. Mister Colwyn, what do you intend to do about all this?”
“About what?” the Runner asked. “Your brother died six years ago in Jamaica, of a fever I believe is what you said you told people.” He glanced at the river. “Your mother was prone to bouts of deep sadness since the death of your brother. She apparently took her own life as so many have done from this spot. Agreed?” He extended his hand.
“Agreed.” Viscount Daily shook his hand and then Derek’s. “Please take our, ah, appropriated carriage to convey you to Lady Camilla’s .” He looked up at the moon. “I believe I shall walk home. I suddenly feel quite free. Good night.” He strode down the bridge, spoke to the coachman, turned, and waved before disappearing into the night.
“Shall we?” Mister Colwyn waved toward the coach. As they approached Cassandra studied the crest on the door.
“How did you end up in the Duke of Chelmsford’s carriage?” she asked, after Derek helped her into the conveyance and sat next to her on the front-facing seat.
“We stole the damned thing,” Derek said as he pulled her into his lap and wrapped the greatcoat more tightly about her.
“Commandeered,” Mister Colwyn corrected. “Stole is such an ugly word. Missus Collins, you are either the most foolish woman of my acquaintance or the bravest.”
“The bravest,” Derek said firmly. “We ran all over London following miscreants and fighting brawls, but the women are the ones who solved this mystery. You do realize that, Col, don’t you?”
Cassandra could not believe her ears. She pressed her palm to Derek’s forehead. “Are you ill? Is this the same man who tried to get Mister Carrington-Bowles to have Mister Charpentier forbid me to serve at the ball tonight?”
“He what?” Mister Colwyn propped one booted foot on his knee. “What the devil were you thinking, Framlingwood. Don’t you know forbidding a woman to do something only ensures she will do it at all costs?”
“I’m learning,” Derek said grudgingly. He did not sound happy at all. “I did, however, learn something else from our friend CB. Something I never thought about before tonight. Something about brave women and what a man must do to keep them safe.”
Cassandra’s heart sank. This experience would only make him more determined to lock her up. She was willing to give up many things to remain in his life. She could not give up her freedom. She’d made plans to leave London when the situation with the vengeful blackmailer was over. How would she ever leave him? She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. How could she ever stay?
After two days at Dickie’s bedside, Cassandra had finally been able to persuade Lionel Carrington-Bowles and Nathaniel Charpentier to seek some rest. The injury had been less minor than they had first supposed, but not terrible enough to put his life in danger. After one day and night of fever, the lad’s only complaint was that he wasn’t allowed out of bed and with Christmas nearly here and so many people staying in Lady Camilla’s St. James Square house he felt as if he were being punished.
“If you do not eat everything on this tray and go back to sleep, I shall be forced to tell Lady Camilla,” Cassandra warned him.
“Unfair,” Dickie groused. “I saved your life, and you are helping them to make mine a misery.” He ate a bite of roast beef. “Is Captain Atherton and his lady and the babe here as well?”
“They are, and if you do not do as you are told, I shall have Raines move them into the chambers next to this one.”
“Good,” a familiar voice said. “They are in the chambers next to mine at the moment.” Derek shuddered and brought a plate of macarons from behind his back. “Who knew such a tiny babe had such prolific lungs?”
“Now here’s a man wot knows how to thank a fellow for saving his lady love. Thank you, my lord.” Dickie took the plate of macarons and stuffed one into his mouth.
“You are a bad influence, Lord Framlingwood,” Cassandra chided. “Wait until I tell Mister Carrington-Bowles.”
“I’ll take the risk,” Derek replied. He strolled across the large chamber to settle into one of the low-set leather chairs before the roaring fire. He beckoned for her to join him. She glanced one last time at Dickie, who was nearly halfway through the plate of macarons, and crossed the room to take the other chair before the hearth.
“I want to talk to you about taking risks actually.”
Cassandra sighed. “You know why I did what I did, Derek. I would prefer we not argue in front of Dickie.”
“Good. Don’t argue. Simply listen.” He leaned forward in his chair. “CB called me a coward the night of Viscount Daily’s ball. He said I was favoring fear over love, and he was right.”
Cassandra’s heart began to race.
“He said my love for Celeste was a boy’s love. Perhaps that is why I have clung to that idea of love for so long. They way I loved her…I didn’t know how to love any other way. Until I met you. You’re a stubborn, proud woman, Cassandra Collins.”
She started to speak. He raised his hand to silence her.
“I don’t care what your name was before, and I don’t care a damned bit what you did before you met me. All I care about is the man I have become since I met you. Do you really think I would have thought to give my mistresses the freedom to marry without a moment’s regret if I had not met you? To see a woman as something other than a creature to be treasured and cosseted and kept safe from all harm?”
The sting of tears burned her eyes. Her throat began to close.
“You didn’t give me a choice. I fell for you so hard and so fast, and then you set these impossible terms for me to love you.” His eyes were bright now. He shook his head. “Out on that bridge I didn’t give a damn about terms or what I have lost in the past or any of the thousand little things I held onto so fast for fear of losing one more person I loved. All I cared about was you, Cassandra. Having you in my life on whatever terms you name.” He slid from the chair to his knees before her. “I love you and only you, my beautiful, impossible Cassandra. Marry me. I want you as my wife, my countess, the mother of my children. I will buy you your own house if you wish and only come to visit when you allow. I will give you all the freedom you want to fly free so long as you always come back to me. Name your terms. I’ll abide by them. Only don’t leave me. I need you in my life, to live with me, not for me.” He grasped her hands and kissed each one in turn.
She could not catch her breath. She’d been ready to leave after Christmas. Captain El had made the arrangements. Gazing into his eyes, seeing the love and truth on his face stunned her to the point she was unable to think of what to say.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Dickie called from his bed in his best put-upon voice. “We both know he’ll never make it without you, poor devil. Marry the bleeding cove, missus. God knows what mayhem he’ll get up to if you don’t take him in hand.”
“There you have it,” Derek said with a watery laugh. His rich, dark voice washed over her and set her heart aglow. “Marry the bleeding cove, missus.”
“You’ll buy me my own house?”
He swallowed hard. “If that is what you want.”
“What if I rather like the idea of a house on Grosvenor Square and the title of countess?” He wasn’t the only one fighting fear, and now her fear was gone.
“You may have it, but you have to take me in the bargain.”
“Sold,” she whispered and pressed her lips to his.
“Thank Mary and all the saints,” Dickie said with a sigh. “When you’re done with the kissing, can one of you fetch me some more macarons?”
“Best fetch your own, Dickie,” Derek said. “With this woman, the kissing will never be done.”
“Bloody hell.”
Cassandra laughed beneath Derek’s seeking lips as he proved his point.