Chapter 15 #2
“Unfortunately, there isn’t much Bow Street can do in those situations,” Hugh replied. “Unless the lady’s family calls him out or takes vengeance into their own hands.”
Audrey’s mouth thinned in distaste. “A woman is the property of her husband, and he can rule her as he sees fit. It is shameful. There should be laws against it.”
“I agree entirely,” Hugh said.
“But what if the lady in question is not married to the abuser?” Cassie asked. “What if she is simply carrying his child?”
The question startled the viscount and viscountess into momentary silence.
“That is rather specific,” Hugh said. “What is this about?”
With a look toward Grant, Cassie nibbled her lower lip. She was stuck on how to explain her interest.
Thinking only to alleviate some of the pressure, Grant said, “I have a patient at my Church Street clinic. She is in this situation.”
Cassie exhaled with some relief. It only lasted until they saw Hugh glowering at them. “How does Cassie know of this woman?” Then, with alarm, “Have you taken her to your clinic?”
“That isn’t the important point,” she quickly said. “This young woman is hiding from a dangerous man, a Mr. Youngdale. He’s the third son of a baronet, and we wondered if you knew anything about him.”
Audrey asked, “Where is she hiding?” at the same time that Hugh asked, “What have you two gotten yourselves into?”
Cassie’s rosy cheeks marked her as flustered, but even with Hugh’s pointed questions, Grant could only think that they looked lovely.
“She is staying at my clinic,” Grant supplied. “Youngdale. Do you know him?”
The viscount shook his head. “The name isn’t familiar. You say they are not married?”
Cassie nodded. “She escaped before he could force her. Her aunt sides with him, so she has no one to protect her.”
Hugh and Audrey exchanged a look, then cast it toward them.
Their thoughts were of Renfry no doubt, and the fact that Cassie had shared her deepest secret with Grant.
It smarted that his closest friend didn’t trust him not to hurt Cassie.
Perhaps Grant had been blind to just how dissolute his reputation had grown to be.
“The best thing to do, perhaps the only thing, would be to get her away from him,” Hugh said.
“There is a place I’ve heard of,” Audrey whispered. “Greer mentioned it once. A house of hope, she called it, but apparently one must find a nun in a parish to receive its secret location. It all sounds mystifying, but I could try to find out more.”
Cassie’s eyes rounded and her jaw went slack. Grant’s own went a bit loose as well. Cassie turned her shocked stare toward him, and for the first time since meeting with Madame Archambeau—it felt like years ago—she grinned.
“What is it?” Audrey asked, peering between them.
Cassie wiped the smile away. “That is quite all right, Audrey, you needn’t learn more. She is safe at Grant’s clinic for now.”
“She won’t be if this Youngdale fellow finds her there,” Hugh said.
“There are laws against assaulting a woman who is not your wife, as paradoxical as that may seem. So, as long as she doesn’t marry him, Youngdale can be brought up on charges if he harms her.
If she does become his wife…” He shrugged as if to say, it’s over.
Sir and Cat returned from the edge of the Serpentine then, the little girl’s shoes and hem soaked.
“She saw minnows,” Sir explained bashfully.
“It is December. There are no minnows in the water,” Hugh replied as Audrey picked Cat up.
“We best get you home, little troublemaker,” she said, touching the tip of her nose to the little girl’s.
Their party turned back toward Rotten Row, where their conveyances and drivers waited. Distracted by their fussy daughter, Hugh and Audrey weren’t listening when Grant chanced addressing Cassie.
“May I drive you home? There are some things we should discuss.”
“I expect we’ll take a turn through the park first, so all and sundry can see us courting.” She was angry. About last night? Because he had not kissed her as she’d so evidently wanted? Or perhaps it was because she regretted letting down her guard.
“Perhaps we should sit on the same bench,” he replied, thoroughly annoyed by her sudden change in attitude now that Audrey and Hugh were not listening. “I will whisper something in your ear, and you will laugh as though I am the cleverest man of the century.”
“If I stoop to that, everyone will surely know the whole thing is a farce,” she replied, picking up her speed.
He matched it easily with longer strides. “I did not force you to tell me anything last night, Cassie. If you are having regrets, don’t take it out on me.”
She came to a lurching stop and glared up at him. “I do regret it. I regret giving you one more thing to hold over my head. To coerce me with—”
Instant offense lit through him. Unthinkingly, he took her wrist. “I would never hold that over your head. Ever.”
Her hard, skeptical glare diminished, but Cassie still appeared timid.
She did not know if she could trust him.
Just as Hugh hadn’t known if he could trust his intentions with Cassie.
With Hugh, Grant had felt slighted. But with Cassie, he had the intense urge to prove what he said was true. He wanted her to trust him.
And yet how could she when he’d given her no reason to?
“Thornton.” Hugh’s bark came from a distance.
Releasing Cassie’s arm and breaking their drawn-out stare, Grant sought out his friend.
He stood on Rotten Row with their driver, Carrigan, Grant’s driver, Merryton, and Cassie’s driver, Patrick.
And standing next to Patrick was another man—her original driver, Tris.
Cassie gasped and started toward them. Fresh bruises riddled Tris’s face, and his right eye and bottom lip had swollen to a grotesque size.
“What in hell happened to you?” Grant asked as he and Cassie reached them. It was a scene, one that did not often occur on the most fashionable stretch of road in London.
“Where is Isabel?” Cassie inquired.
Tris shook his head, his swollen face even more distorted as emotion gripped him. “They took her. Came crashing through the back door at the clinic and set upon me, four to one.” He whipped off his cap and crushed it in his hands. “When I came to, she was gone.”
Dread pooled in Grant’s stomach. “Youngdale. He found her.”
Sir came over from where he’d been standing with Carrigan. “Youngdale?”
“Do you know the name?” Grant asked.
Sir nodded. “Some lower toff? A baronet or some such?”
Grant focused on the young man. “That’s him. How do you know of him?”
“He’s a high roller at Duke’s.”
Hugh fixed him with a glare. “What are you doing at a boxing club?”
Sir patted his cheek. “Not ruining this handsome mug. Just betting a little. Got mates there.”
Before Hugh could reprimand him for frequenting a boxing club and gambling, Grant held up his hand. “Is he there often?”
Sir shrugged and nodded. “Whenever there’s a fight. Sits with some other toffs like he owns the place.”
“When is the next fight?” Cassie asked, her eagerness worrisome.
“There’s one tonight,” Sir answered. She brightened, and Grant could easily guess what she was thinking.
“You are not going to Duke’s.”
She set her jaw and whipped toward him. “No, I’m not. Not alone at least. You can take me.”
Grant fixed a sarcastic grin into place. “I’m not offering.”
Cassie fumed and parted her lips to give a retort, but Hugh cleared his throat.
“Cassie, on this, I must agree with Thornton. Duke’s is in a rough part of Limehouse.
It’s not suitable for you—or fifteen-year-old boys,” he added, tossing a harsh look at Sir.
The boy rolled his eyes. “I’ll come around later, Thornton. We’ll discuss a plan.”
After a bow toward Cassie, he gathered Audrey and Sir to leave. Audrey sent her an apologetic glance before getting into the carriage. Once Carrigan began to drive away, Cassie broke from Grant’s side and started for her own conveyance.
“Wait,” he said, catching her arm. “We need to talk.”
“I’ve nothing to say.”
“Cassie. Stop.” The command was a bark, and much too loudly done. Heads turned in their direction. Cassie did stop her retreat but looked as if she’d have liked to rip out his tongue.
“Take my arm,” he said more softly. Pink flushed her cheeks.
“No.”
The stubborn, mule-headed woman!
“Fine. If you won’t trust me, then at least trust Hugh. Duke’s is no place for you.”
“Just as Crispin Street is no place for me?” He recalled what he’d said before—that she didn’t belong there. It had hurt her.
“I am only thinking of your safety,” he said, his temper rising.
“I do not need you for that.”
His jaw locked with the sudden urge to take her over his knee. The image both stoked his temper and stirred his loins wide awake.
“I think our stroll has reached its end,” Cassie said, still holding his hard stare. “Unless you still wish to take that exhibitive ride in your carriage?”
He flashed his teeth, the grin more of a snarl.
He snatched her hand before she could pull it away.
Grant raised it to his lips and took a protracted amount of time—several moments at the least—to drop kisses along her gloved knuckles.
Long enough for some passersby to see the display.
“No need, Lady Cassandra. I’ve rather lost my interest in it.
I’ll take Tris with me to tend to his injuries. Good afternoon.”
Grant lowered her hand, released it, and walked away from her, toward his carriage.
The bloody woman was going to drive him straight into Bedlam.