Chapter 21 #2
Breakfast had been quick and quiet, with just the two of them, and Lawrence and Alfred at the table.
Cassie had been ravenous, filling her plate generously at the sideboard.
Grant smothered a grin every time she caught him looking at her from across the table, as if he knew why she had such an appetite.
The snowy world outside reflected the sunlight and brightened the morning room, turning it warm and stuffy.
The marquess had been joining them when Grant and Cassie stood to leave.
She was grateful that he’d refused to be drawn in by his father’s complaints that it was far too early to already be leaving.
“If you are worried for the lady’s reputation, there is no need. You can be wed as soon as you have secured the special license,” the marquess had said as the footman was bringing them their outer trappings.
Cassie considered crying off right then, making up some excuse that they had quarreled, and it was over. But both she and Grant had exchanged a tense look and with unspoken agreement, left with their lips sealed.
“Fournier’s not going to be happy,” he now said as his driver brought them around the square.
This she already knew; however, she’d successfully put it from her mind during the carriage ride back into Town.
She’d half expected Grant to choose to sit up with his driver so that they would not be enclosed into the interior of the carriage together.
But he hadn’t, and they had barely left the Oval before their wordless staring match culminated with Grant reaching for her.
He’d dragged her straight off her bench and onto his lap.
Mind numbing bliss muted all the reasons it was a terrible idea as he’d kissed her with the same fervor he’d shown the night before.
When evidence of his arousal pressed against her, she’d once again devolved into a burning mass of need.
Grant had been suffering the same affliction, rising from it only long enough to ask her if she was, again, certain.
With her ragged yes, he’d bunched her skirts, and she’d unbuttoned his fall.
Their uncoordinated motions were only awkward until he’d been inside her once more, and Cassie had marveled at how perfect and right it felt.
And though he’d pulled from her, to avoid spilling his seed, he’d continued to cover her lips and neck with kisses for most of the ride home.
Now, with their hair and clothing repaired, they stepped onto the pavement.
The snow from last night’s storm had been swept but a layer of ice crunched beneath their feet as they approached the door.
Walking exacerbated the soreness of her inner thighs where she’d straddled Grant, and though it was ridiculous, she had the irrational fear her brother would know.
She braced herself as they entered the foyer and saw Michael storming down the stairs toward them.
“Where the devil have you been?” His eyes landed on Grant. “Thornton, explain yourself. Immediately.”
“Michael, please, calm down,” Cassie said, removing her pelisse with Ruth’s help. Her maid’s eyes were wide with alarm and no doubt some fear for her mistress. Grant shook his head at the footman, signaling that he would keep his greatcoat on. He would not be staying long, then.
“Last night’s snowfall caught us by surprise, Your Grace,” Grant said. “It prevented the entire dinner party at Lindstrom House from returning to their homes. Lady Cassandra was given a room. She is perfectly safe.”
Michael’s nostrils flared, and the black look he shot at Grant spoke volumes. He was suspicious enough to make Cassie’s pulse skip.
“I suppose that is understandable, however I have also learned this was not your first night away from the residence.” He turned his incisive glare onto her.
“This is my household, my staff. They are merely at your disposal. Did you really think that I would not find out you went to Neatham’s for the night?
And that there was some concern about a man following you from a boxing club in Limehouse?
What in God’s name were you doing there, Cassandra? ”
The footman and Ruth had disappeared to give them privacy, but Cassie still did not want to have this conversation in the foyer.
She gestured toward the front sitting room, beckoning her brother inside.
It would also give her a moment to think.
Poor Patrick. Michael had to have cornered him with questions.
“It was my doing, Your Grace.” Cassie turned to stare at Grant as they entered the room. With a furtive glance, he silently told her to go along with it. “I invited Lady Cassandra to Duke’s for the match.”
He even appeared properly chagrinned as Michael’s contemptuous glare increased. “You thought a place like that was decent for my sister?”
“Michael, please stop.” Cassie stepped between her brother and the man she still could not quite believe she’d made love to. Twice. If they remained in the same room for any longer, she feared Michael would pick apart the truth of it. “Lord Thornton, thank you for delivering me safely home.”
It was a polite dismissal, and with a deep bow, and a glance toward the duke, Grant moved for the door.
“Thornton,” Michael said, dragging Grant’s heels to a stop. “The duchess is hosting a dinner at Violet House Saturday night. I expect you to be there. It appears we have important matters to discuss.”
Grant bowed again and, likely with great relief, took his leave. The moment the front door shut behind him, Cassie whirled to face her brother. “I will ask you not to involve yourself in my relationship with Lord Thornton.”
That word—relationship. She had even less of an idea what it meant now than she did before.
Michael’s shoulders slackened some, his show of hostility abating now that Grant was gone. “He is not suitable for you, Cassie.”
Tobias had warned her that their brother would not approve.
She crossed her arms as she went to the front window overlooking the square.
Grant’s carriage was pulling away from the curb.
Whether her brother approved or not hadn’t mattered before, especially since it was a fictitious courtship.
The barbs of irritation she now felt from his pronouncement were unwarranted.
“He is Lord Neatham’s closest friend,” she said. “And Audrey approves of him.”
“While I respect the viscount and viscountess’s opinions, there is no question that his reputation is tainted. Not to mention his methods are crude. Offering to put your order at that modiste’s on his account! What was he playing at, treating you like one of his mistresses?”
Jane and her enormous mouth had likely divulged the incident to Genie, who in turn had told Michael.
“He is doing no such thing,” Cassie replied, even as a vivid image of his naked form, gilded by firelight and moving over her, made her blush.
Michael shook his head, unconvinced. “You’ve been taken in by one rogue already, and I was ignorant to it. I will not turn a blind eye again.”
Cassie bristled while trying to maintain her calm.
Her brother had confessed before that he blamed himself for not keeping a better eye on her after she’d met Lord Renfry.
What he couldn’t quite understand however was that it had nothing to do with him.
She’d made her own choices, poor though they’d been.
And now, he was likening Grant to one of the worst blackguards in London.
“Grant is nothing like Renfry. Nothing,” she said, her ire growing. “You shouldn’t judge his character based on the rumors you hear at White’s.”
“Not just at White’s,” he argued. But she would hear no more of it.
“It’s been a long night, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to change my gown.”
Michael exhaled, and though he appeared to want to say more, he relented. “Very well. You will come to dinner Saturday night too, of course?”
She nodded, thinking there was nothing she would like less. Except perhaps another dinner with Lord Lindstrom.
Her brother left, and small shivers set in. She wasn’t cold. Exhaustion weighed her down as she summoned Ruth and had her prepare a bath.
Michael infuriated her at times. He’d been pestering her to marry for years, and yet the man she’d finally chosen to court was not good enough?
She squeezed her eyes shut. No, she had not chosen him.
She wasn’t courting him at all! Even now, after their night together and their frenzied coupling in the carriage, Grant did not plan to ask for her hand.
She’d laid out their agreement firmly. Cassie had wanted to know pleasure; now, he’d given it to her.
She pushed aside a strange, hollowing sensation.
She’d told him she wouldn’t demand anything more, and she would not go back on her word.