Chapter Nineteen #2
Mrs. Mercer’s gaze trailed to Cassandra. She dropped Seth’s face and held her hands up. “Oh! Goodness me, you must be the missus! And me, pawing at your husband!” She curtsied. “I’m Mrs. Mercer, a married woman myself. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Reeves.”
Cassandra’s face flushed, and she floundered for a response.
“This is Miss Cassandra Cooper,” Seth corrected. “A dear friend.”
Mrs. Mercer glanced between them with a knowing smile.
“You’d better snatch her up quick, before she realizes what a rascal you are.” She turned to Cassandra. “The first time we met, he was in my husband’s bakery stealing biscuits. Found him in the alleyway, covered in crumbs!”
“Mr. Reeves committed a crime?” Cassandra feigned disbelief.
“I promise to pay upfront this time,” Seth cut in. He reached for his pocket book, but the shopkeeper swatted his hands away.
“Don’t bother. This one is on the house. I’ll consider it an investment.” Her eyes shifted from Seth to Cassandra, and she winked. “I have a feeling you’ll be back to buy more.”
Pomade wrapped and placed in Cassandra’s reticule, they re-entered the streets. Cassandra stood on her toes to look around. “It appears we’ve been abandoned.”
Seth offered her his arm and led them in the direction he had last seen their friends. “Their abandonment certainly seemed intentional. Lady Jasmine dragged Cooper away by the throat.”
“That’s Jasmine. I asked her for a simple distraction.” Cassandra huffed. “Knowing her, she’ll have followed her nose to food. We should start there.”
He kept her close as they walked. Blending in with hundreds of people, they may as well have been alone. It brought him a new sense of satisfaction to have her on his arm in broad daylight, to walk with her down a busy street after shopping together.
“Does Lady Jasmine know about…?” He allowed his voice to trail off.
“Good Lord, no,” Cassandra said too quickly. “No. No. Absolutely not.”
Seth noted the purse of her lips, how her eyes dodged straight ahead, eyebrow twitching infinitesimally.
The same tells as her brother.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible liar?”
“I’m not lying!” she protested. A blush warmed her cheeks. “She knows certain things, yes. But she doesn’t know everything.” She whispered, “Where would I even start?”
“I know of a few good places you could start,” he purred. She shot him a reproachful look.
Hats tipped to him as they walked. Cassandra acted as an effective shield against unwanted conversation, and many acquaintances offered a simple, ‘Mr. Reeves,’ in acknowledgment.
“Everyone seems to know you,” Cassandra commented. “You truly are famous.”
“Only in this town. The people here have been kind to me. I do what I can to pay back their hospitality whenever I can.” He smiled. “Would you believe that some even view me as respectable?”
She smiled back at him. “As hard as you try to hide it, I’m starting to think you might be a good man, Seth Reeves.”
“What made you change your opinion?” he teased.
Her retort died as the man walking ahead of them stopped abruptly, causing her to hit him square on and stumble. Righting her with his arms, Seth opened his mouth to deliver a scathing remark, but froze when the grey-haired man turned to him, animosity etched jagged lines across his face.
“A good man.” Sir Reginald scoffed.
Seth attempted to guide Cassandra behind him, but she wouldn’t budge.
She stood her ground and curtsied. “Good afternoon, Sir Reginald. My apologies for my clumsiness. If you’ll excuse us.”
As she moved to walk around him, he blocked their path.
“My nephew speaks highly of you, Miss Cooper. I can understand why.” He tipped his hat for a better view and analyzed Cassandra from head to toe. “He always did prefer women without scruples.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You’ll not speak to her that way!” Seth stood in front of Cassandra, blood rushing in his ears.
“And you. You dare show your face in society after what you’ve done.” Sir Reginald’s face contorted. “Enjoying some time in the sun? If only my son was afforded the same luxury.”
Seth’s heart raced, his voice caught in his throat, and he struggled to breathe. No. Please, not now.
Cassandra tugged Seth’s arm and herded them into the street.
“We’ll be on our way,” she said. “My brother will be looking for us.”
With a sneer and another condescending once over, Sir Reginald marched in the opposite direction.
Thoughts raced, memories came unbidden. Smoke, heat “—don’t let me—”
“Seth,” Cassandra called out. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Look at me.”
He raised his head. Care shone through her amber eyes.
“He’s gone,” she said, looking him over. “Do you need a minute?”
“No.” Seth took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”
“All right,” Cassandra soothed. She rubbed his upper arm, walking perhaps too close, but her presence was like stepping into a warm bath. He relaxed into her touch before releasing her when they came to the street with food vendors.
Spotting their friends in the distance, Cassandra waved her hand in the air to grab Lady Jasmine’s attention. Cooper noticed them first. With a grin plastered on his face, he carried two overflowing mugs of ale, droplets hitting his boots as he approached.
“No excuses now, my friend!” Cooper thrust a mug into Seth’s hands and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Consider your sobriety officially ended!”
Seth shrugged his arm off, but accepted the ale. Nose flushed, with a slur to his words, Cooper seemed like he had a mug or two in him already.
How long had they been gone?
Lady Jasmine held two piping cups of mulled wine, spiking the air with the scent of cloves and autumn. Delicately, she handed one to Cassandra. Mr. Sanderson carried a load of pasties wrapped in wax paper as he led the way to a sizable beige blanket, one of many in the town square.
Cooper dropped to his knees on the blanket and raised his mug. “To victory!” he crowed. “And to my best friend, the man who is going to save my hide tomorrow! You deserve the world!”
“Are you going to cry again?” Seth raised a brow.
Cassandra and Lady Jasmine giggled.
“Tears of joy, Reeves!” Cooper corrected tersely. “I’m about to be exceedingly wealthy.”
Cooper took a deliberate swig of ale, drinking a quarter of the liquid in one go.
As the sun began its descent, more musicians gathered in the square. Two fiddles and a flute played a fast-paced melody.
“Oh-oh-oh!” Lady Jasmine proclaimed, moving to her feet. “I’m going to go dance! Watch my food!”
“Jasmine!” Cassandra called to her, but Lady Jasmine was halfway across the square.
After a second, Cooper shook his head and laughed. “That girl. The four of you,” he pointed at Cassandra and Seth, “stay put! Neither Cassandra should be on their feet—”
“I’m fine—”
“Zeke, you’re with me.” Cooper squinted as a set of town lads spoke to Lady Jasmine. He furrowed his brows. “I’ll need backup.”
Seth blinked. Zeke?
In two large bites, Mr. Sanderson finished his pasty, took a long gulp of ale, and followed Cooper, his shorter legs trailing fast after him.
Alone once more, Cassandra smiled. “She doesn’t know when to quit.”
Cooper approached Lady Jasmine and loudly proclaimed the lady had promised him the first dance. With an exaggerated bow as if in a ballroom, Cooper extended his hand. Lady Jasmine swatted at him, but pulled him into lively steps.
And Lady Jasmine called him a ruffian.
She was more wild than he would ever be.
“They’re always like that,” Cassandra said, watching them. “The two of you have been as well. Thick as thieves.”
She took a sip of her wine, the burgundy liquid stained her lips.
“Cooper can get along with anyone,” he said.
Cooper released Lady Jasmine to pull a blushing town’s girl into his arms, her red face visible even in the fading light.
Making good on his designs to be a rake, after all.
Lady Jasmine pointed at Mr. Sanderson, who waved his hands in promptly ignored protest as the lady tugged on his arm, forcing him into movement.
“Seth?”
He brought his attention back to Cassandra.
“Do you truly believe you’ll win?” she asked, fidgeting with her gloves. It would never have occurred to him how much she would need reassurance.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“So you’re not here to advertise to the Army?” She raised a brow.
“Cooper told you.”
“Jasmine did,” she countered. “And she heard from rumors. Why didn’t either of you say anything?”
“Cooper didn’t want to upset you with talk of war and death. And it’s only one possibility of many,” Seth said. “Winning the contest takes precedence, of course. Following that, perhaps a private investor would be interested—Mr. Nott, ideally—and as a last resort… the Board of Ordnance.”
“Through Lord Bolderwood.”
“We’ve spoken. He doesn’t want the rifle.”
“Oh.” Cassandra cast her eyes down, tugging at her fingertips. He wanted to take her hands in his and massage the worry away.
“Bishop’s and Mr. Nott’s rifles can’t compete with ours on a performance level. In a skills competition I’ll win every time, telescope or no. I’ll win tomorrow,” Seth vowed.
“What makes you so sure?”
“I’m the best shot among the finalists. It’s not vanity, it’s a fact.” He drank from his mug. “Mr. Nott spends more time behind a desk than a range and it shows. Bishop is better than most, but he wasn’t trained by General Nathaniel Hollingsworth.”
As the sky darkened, more revelers joined the square, boxing them in. Seth glanced around. Where was Cooper? The trio had disappeared completely in the crowd.
“The Earl, is he your…” Cassandra paused. “Are you—”
“Am I Lord Bolderwood’s bastard, you mean?” he asked. “Question of the week, isn’t it?”
“You needn’t answer.”
“Would it matter to you?”
“No,” she said, meeting his gaze outright.
After a long while, Seth took another drink. The refreshing burn trailed down his throat into his stomach. He had pondered the question over and over in his mind and always came to the same conclusion.
“No. I’m low-born. Raised in an orphanage until I was eight years old.
That’s where Lord Bolderwood found me. He did that a lot back then…
searched for orphans with whatever quality he deemed important.
” Seth gestured loosely with one hand. “Projects he could hone. ‘Think of your potential!’” he imitated the man.
“I was the only one he brought home. I felt honored to be chosen. Even more-so when he told me that I could be a general. Might have even done it, if not—”
Seth sighed, a long and controlled exhale.
“For the fire,” she finished.
He nodded.
“I think he figured that with Adrian and me he would have two sons, one for intelligence and the other for infantry.” Another long drink. “Though, if he wanted control over the military he should have sent one of us into supply.”
A frown brushed her features, and she asked, “Why you?”
“My mind is a steel trap.” He pointed to his temple. “I remember everything.”
Cassandra’s brows rose. “Certainly not everything.”
“Everything,” he affirmed. “Give me ink and parchment and I can draw anything I’ve seen before, and with the required parts I can build it.”
She eyed him dubiously.
“I can recreate almost everything I’ve seen from memory.
My company had eighty-two men, I know each of their full names, hometowns, and birthdays.
Give me any series of numbers, I’ll be able to recite them, no matter how long.
Fine details.” He met her eyes. “When I met you, you were wearing a blue pinafore, and the first words you said to me were ‘what are you?’ not who.”
Now, he could draw a map with her known freckles.
Knew one way to touch her to get her toes to curl, but there was so much to learn.
The edges of his vision blurred, leaving room only for Cassandra.
Strands of her hair reflected golden in the lantern light, her eyes were as molten copper.
He couldn’t look away from her wine-reddened lips and the tip of her tongue when she spoke.
Seth held his empty mug, and thought, When did I become so easily foxed?
Sun fully set, more townsfolk shuffled into the square. The volume of the music increased as drums and brass instruments joined the fray. Hadn’t their friends been gone for a long time? He couldn’t see Cooper or Lady Jasmine at all. Or Mr. Sanderson.
They were alone.
“Is it chaotic?” she asked. “All of those details in your mind all at once?”
“No more chaotic than your mind is, I imagine,” he said, finding it harder to focus on anything but his need to kiss her. “It’s not all at once. Well… not normally.”
“Do you remember everything about me?” she asked, her teeth grazed her bottom lip in a way that drove him wild. “Everything that I say?”
He remained silent, but nodded.
With a stunned gasp, Cassandra clamped her hands over her mouth.
“No,” she said, muffled behind her fingers. Her ears reddened. “I may never speak again!”
“It doesn’t matter what you say.” He grinned. “I enjoy listening to you talk.”
But he also enjoyed it when she didn’t talk. When he made her so breathless, she couldn’t talk. He scanned the area and calculated the steps to the bakery with the length of the song playing. How much time would he feasibly have?
Not enough, his reason supplied, but his reason wasn’t in charge anymore, and the clock was ticking. Seth stood and offered Cassandra his hand.
“Come with me.”
“Right now?” Cassandra asked, looking around.
It would have to be right now.
“Only for a few minutes.”
The hesitation in her eyes turned into curiosity. She placed her hand in his, allowed him to help her to her feet, and took his arm. He navigated her from the square, through shadowed streets and into the alley behind the bakery.
Retrieving a key from the door frame, he hastily unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Seth pulled Cassandra, giggling, into the old storage room.
A quarter the size of a normal bedchamber, pitch-black without windows, with a single bed against the wall.
As soon as the door closed, he was upon her, gripping her hips as he feasted on her mouth.
She tasted of cinnamon and heat, far more intoxicating than any drink.
With agile fingers, he removed her bonnet, letting it fall to the floor, and recaptured her lips.
He would never tire of the low moan she made as he brushed his tongue over hers.
He separated from her mouth and he angled her chin and trailed his lips down her throat. With a laugh, she pushed him away and turned her back to him and blindly reached for her bonnet. “You’re a scoundrel.”
Seth pulled at her waist, anchoring her bottom against his hips, and wrapped the other arm high around her shoulders. She arched into him as he grazed over her clothed breasts, down to the softness of her belly, and she still wasn’t wearing stays.
This would take less time than he thought.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
“Being a scoundrel.”