Chapter 1
Chapter One
‘I have done something terribly foolish.’
Cassandra Fisk stared at the man on the other side of the card table, waiting for further explanation. Her half-brother, Julian, frequently did things that she considered foolish. He was a rake and his pleasures were often unhealthy or unwise.
Julian was also the Duke of Septon. Since he was a peer, there was not much that would not be forgiven by Society. But there was something about the look on his face as he reached for the brandy bottle that said that this time he was having trouble forgiving himself.
She smiled at him as if she hadn’t noticed the change in his manner and kept her tone light. ‘Foolish? You? Never, darling. I refuse to believe it.’
Julian sighed. And suddenly he looked like someone who’d had a long and unhappy life, even though he was but four years older than she.
‘I suppose I should tell you everything. It will be in the papers tomorrow, and all of London will be talking about it. There was a duel.’ He took another drink, staring down into the glass as though afraid to meet her gaze.
‘Dueling is illegal,’ she said, automatically.
‘At the time, that fact did not concern me,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Quite a bit of liquor had been consumed.’
‘And your opponent?’ she said, struggling to maintain her smile.
‘Westbridge,’ he said, refilling his glass.
She had not expected this. ‘I thought you were friends.’
‘We were,’ he replied. ‘But he said something inappropriate about Miss Braddock. I could not let it pass.’
‘I see.’ Julian had been friends with the girl’s father, before he’d died, and been tasked with protecting Portia Braddock’s honour until she married. If sometimes Cassandra suspected that his feelings for his charge might run deeper than mere duty? She did not dare say.
‘You won, of course,’ she said cautiously.
‘I am here, aren’t I?’ he replied. ‘Whole and undamaged.’ He grimaced and drained his glass.
She watched as he reached for the bottle again. ‘What of Westbridge?’
‘He is… Alive.’ But there was something in the pause that said he might not be for long. ‘If things do not go well for him, I might not be able to visit you for a while. I might have to leave London.’
Now she had to fight to hide her fear. Westbridge was a duke, just as Julian was.
To duel was bad enough. But to kill another peer while doing so would never be forgiven.
He would be tried as a murderer in the House of Lords and might be stripped of his title and hung with a silk rope, dying in disgrace that could never be expunged.
‘My only regret is that it might cause trouble for you,’ he said with a shake of his head.
‘The world does not know of your relationship to me. Our father told no one that he had an illegitimate daughter, and now that I’ve found you, I’ve been waiting for the best time to announce your addition to the family.
But if I have damaged the family name beyond repair…
’ He poured and drank. ‘Perhaps it would be better for your reputation if you had never met me.’
‘Nonsense,’ she said, reaching out to touch his hand.
‘I have always wanted a brother, and I could not have been happier when you sought me out after coming into the title. It was kind to bring me to London and I treasure every moment we’ve spent together.
If my presence is inconvenient for you, I can return to the country where I was raised.
But I will not abandon you when you need me, just because of a little scandal. ’
‘I will arrange a settlement for you, in any case,’ he said with a wave of his hand.
‘Your company is a blessing, not a burden. It is just that I had hoped to bring you out properly. I wanted the ton to see what a delightful girl you are. If only there were more time…’ He stared into his glass again as if the dark future rested at the bottom, then splashed some more brandy into it and drank.
Cassandra forced a laugh. ‘You speak as if all hope is lost. Westbridge might survive. Someone else might do something that makes your duel pale in comparison.’
‘Of course,’ he said, giving her an equally forced smile. ‘I am sure it will all be forgotten in a day or two. In any case, I should not let it spoil our time together.’ He reached for the cards. ‘My deal, I think.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed.
They played piquet for most of the evening, just as they did each Wednesday, when he came to the little house he had bought for her in St John’s Wood.
She suspected that he used these visits to escape the stress of his week and he needed that release tonight, more than ever.
So, she turned their conversation from his troubles, amusing him with stories of her life in the country and the mundane pleasures of her week.
It seemed to have worked. When it grew late and he rose to leave, he gave her a genuine smile as he kissed her cheek.
‘Thank you for a pleasant evening. I hope I did not worry you earlier. It will probably come to nothing.’
‘I’m sure you are right,’ she said and followed him out of the house.
She watched to see he got safely into his coach, waving after it until she was sure it was well out of sight.
Then, she went inside and closed the front door leaning against it, letting her panic bubble to the surface leaving her almost too weak to stand.
She loved him dearly, but she had no illusions about her brother’s character.
Though he had never been anything but sweet to her, Julian courted scandal the way other men courted the virgins at Almack’s.
It was the reason he had kept her hidden here, and not announced to the ton that he had a long-lost sister.
He had wanted the proper time and the perfect way to introduce her to Society so that his sordid reputation would not spoil her chances of making a good match.
Though his behaviour was often self-destructive, he always took care not to hurt others with it.
Until today, at least.
He had never done anything as foolish as dueling. Nor would she have imagined that he could wound a friend, much less bring one to the point of death.
She closed her eyes tight and offered a silent prayer that it would not be so.
She did not want to see her dear brother a murderer.
Could he really be forced to flee the country to avoid prosecution?
When he’d suggested that, he’d been worrying for her future and not his own.
A tear slid down her cheek as she remembered.
It was just like him to think of her before worrying about the risk to himself.
Why did he not understand that she would gladly trade this house and everything in it if she could be sure he was safe?
She had a home in the country with the people who had raised and loved her as their own child.
The Reverend and Mrs Fisk would take her back in a heartbeat, if needed.
Julian had no one but her.
She opened her eyes again, her mind racing.
Though it would shock her adoptive father to hear her say it, prayers were useless at a time like this.
Action was required. Years of nursing the sick of the parish had left her more than qualified to be of help.
She would see to it that Westbridge survived.
Perhaps she could even influence him to forgive his enemy, and this whole situation might amount to nothing.
She summoned the housekeeper and asked her to send for the carriage and prepare a selection of medicinal herbs from the still room.
Then, she went upstairs and rang for her maid, changing out of the fine dinner gown Julian had bought for her, and into one of the simple dresses she had worn in the country, a brown cotton with a starched white chemisette filling the neckline.
She pulled the pins from her hair and brushed out the curls, pulling them back into a practical style that kept them out of her face and which could be maintained without the help of a servant.
As she reached for an untrimmed bonnet she glanced into the dressing table mirror at the modest and sensible girl reflected there.
She smiled, relieved. Since bringing her to town, Julian had spoiled her, sparing no expense to give her the life he felt she deserved.
But beneath the satins and lace, she was still a vicar’s daughter, and happy to be so.
If London had taught her nothing, she had learned the value of her parents’ teachings.
The wages of sin were death. Julian’s foolish duel was proof of that.
If she could manage to keep his friend alive, perhaps the sin could be forgiven and forgotten.
With one last glance in the mirror, she tied on her bonnet and went downstairs.
Then she collected her little bag of medicines and went out into the night.
* * *
When the carriage arrived at the house of the Duke of Westbridge, she went to the door with a crisp step and knocked.
She must act as if it was perfectly natural for an unaccompanied young woman to arrive at the house of a man who was not only unmarried but just as scandalous as her brother.
Under the circumstances, allowances should be made when enforcing the rules of etiquette.
The butler opened the door and looked out at her with suspicion.
‘I have come to help the surgeon,’ she said, giving the servant a no-nonsense smile.
‘He has gone home to bed,’ the butler replied, unmoving. ‘He said there was nothing more that could be done.’
‘I am aware of that,’ she replied. ‘I have been summoned to sit with the patient. He should not be alone.’
The butler considered her story for a moment, then stepped out of the way and allowed her to enter. Without another word, he led her to the stairs and up them to the master bedroom, where the duke was sleeping.
Inside, a single candle guttered on the bedside table and a worried maid sat in a darkened corner, a terrified expression on her face.