Chapter 27
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
For a week, Cassie had planned what she would say.
And for a week, she’d struggled to find the right words.
Whenever she thought she’d settled on the perfect way to announce to her brother what she had been doing for over a year, she would practice saying it, cringe, and start over.
Until finally, she realized that there was no combination of words in the English language that could possibly make such a confession sound agreeable.
“Milady? We are here,” Ruth said from the opposite bench inside Cassie’s carriage. In fact, they had arrived at Violet House several minutes ago. Patrick, whom she’d hired after Tris left for Essex, had opened the door. He was still waiting for Cassie to emerge.
Her body was a pile of lead on the bench. Every time she meant to move, she found she could not. It was Christmas Eve, and inside her brother’s home, a family dinner was underway. Hugh, Audrey, Sir, and little Cat would be there, as would Tobias.
When Cassie had missed the previous dinner at Violet House on the evening Mr. Youngdale had followed her to St. Paul’s Church and rectory, she had sent a note to her brother, announcing that she had ended the courtship with Grant and that she needed time and space.
He’d given it to her, only asking that she come for Christmas Eve.
Being with family may help her to restore herself, he’d said.
So, for the next handful of days she had lingered at home, in bed mostly, devising her confession.
And thinking of Grant. Again and again, she heard the closing of the back door at Hope House as he left, and her own voice telling him to go, that it would be best if they did not see each other again.
In genuine self-loathing, he’d likened himself to Renfry and asked her to do him the honor of despising him.
It would make things easier, he’d said. He’d been right, it would.
She’d tried, but just like her need to come clean about Hope House, she needed to face the truth that she didn’t despise him.
She couldn’t. She couldn’t even be angry with him for his pledge to never remarry out of dedication to his dead wife.
How could she be when it was one of the things that she loved about him?
“My lady?” Patrick said. He still had his hand extended.
Cassie forced herself to sit forward and take his hand.
The action physically drained her. Her pulse grew thready as she walked to the front door, the footman already there, waiting for her.
He took her pelisse, hat, and gloves, and Cassie followed the lively voices toward the drawing room.
Her somber march into the room was met with wide smiles and welcomes, and Genie and Audrey both stood to come greet her.
They’d heard of the courtship’s end, of course. All of London had. She’d avoided reading the gossip columns but when asked, Ruth confirmed it had been reported upon.
“They’re speculating you cried off when you caught him with his mistress,” Ruth had told her.
Cassie’s insides had felt as if they were imploding, crushing her from within.
He would go to that club on Bond Street now.
To Miss Devereaux, no doubt. He would carry on and forget Cassie, and she would have to find a way to live with it.
She would simply do what she had before.
She’d throw herself into Hope House—the new Hope House, funded almost entirely by Madame Archambeau and Miss Stone.
Elyse had come to Grosvenor Square for tea, as planned, and together, they’d drawn up plans to remake the safe house into a free lying-in hospital and school for women.
Madame Archambeau had mentioned a building in Stepney that she owned, and with her additional funds, they could hire a team of security.
Elyse had taken their plans back to the benefactress and she’d sent a note to Cassie with the good news—they were to visit the Stepney building at the first of the year.
If she moved forward with Elyse and Madame Archambeau, she would need to do so openly. Honestly. Without a doubt, she would be ostracized from society. Perhaps even from her own brother’s home. It was a risk she was willing to accept.
“Toby, get your sister a sherry,” Genie said as she led Cassie to a seat on the divan.
“I’m fine,” Cassie tried to say, but she had to admit, she didn’t sound fine. Her voice shook.
“That bloody blackguard. I knew he was no good,” Michael said. “I’m sorry, Neatham, I know he’s your friend, but even you must admit now that Thornton wasn’t suitable for my sister.”
Hugh didn’t respond to the duke. He wouldn’t denigrate his friend, nor could he argue against Michael’s opinion.
“This isn’t about Lord Thornton,” Cassie said, waving aside the sherry Tobias had brought her.
She jumped up from the divan. “I have something to tell you. All of you. And I’m sorry to ruin the night, I planned to wait until after dinner, but honestly, there’s no good time to do it. I can’t put it off any longer.”
She closed her eyes. Looking at them would make it so much more difficult. All the practiced confessions and finessed words fled her mind, and she heard herself blurting: “I’ve been operating a home for unwed pregnant women in the East End for a year and using my pin money to fund it.”
A handful of protracted beats of silence later, she peeked out at the room. Mouths gaped. Eyes blinked owlishly. Michael seemed to have turned into a statue, his loose jaw hanging open in a most unflattering expression.
“You’re Hope House.” Audrey’s whisper severed the stunned quiet. “That is why you didn’t need me to look into it for Isabel.”
“Who is Isabel?” Genie asked.
“It doesn’t matter who Isabel is,” Michael said, breaking from his stony mold. “What do you mean you’ve been running a…a home for…My God, Cassie! The East End?”
Genie swiped the glass of sherry from Tobias’s hand and brought it to her husband, who had collapsed backward into a chair. She ordered him to drink. He did, tossing it back in a single gulp.
“I think it does matter who Isabel is,” Hugh said from where he was standing behind Audrey’s chair. “Unless I’m mistaken, she’s the very sort of woman Cassie has been helping at this secret home.”
He implored her with a wrinkled brow to speak up for herself.
She nodded, the motion jerky with her muscles so tight with nerves.
“Yes. Isabel found herself compromised and the man responsible was cruel. She had no one, no family to care for her, no one to turn to for help. But then she heard of a safe place.”
“And you took her in?” Michael asked. “You hid her?”
“Her and many more like her, yes,” she said, exhaling shakily. “The home is for any woman wishing to have their child in private.”
“But you’re no midwife,” Tobias exclaimed, appearing even more boggled than Michael. “How did you even come to have this…this radical idea?”
Audrey cleared her throat. “Sir, would you please take Catherine to the kitchens? I’m sure Mrs. Comstock wouldn’t mind.”
The young man scowled at the dismissal. “Things were just getting interesting,” he grumbled, but took Catherine’s hand and did as he was asked. Genie dismissed the footman and maid from the room, too. As soon as they had gone, Cassie turned to her younger brother.
“Toby, there are things you don’t know—”
She was cut off by the butler knocking on the closed drawing room door.
“What is it, Barton?” Michael snapped. The butler entered and bowed at the neck.
“Your Grace, a visitor. Lord Thornton. Are you in?”
Numbness stole over Cassie from crown to foot as Michael bellowed, “No, we are not in!”
But as Barton turned to deliver the response, Grant shoved past him, into the room.
“You’re rather loud for not being in, Fournier.” Grant’s eyes immediately found and hinged onto Cassie. Her lungs drained of oxygen as she stared at him, her eyes drinking him in. What was he doing here?
“What the devil, Thornton?” Michael lunged to his feet. “How dare you intrude into our home uninvited, and after what you’ve done?”
“My goodness,” Genie said with a gasp as she no doubt saw the faded bruising on his chin and the healing gash near his eye. “Lord Thornton, you’ve been hurt.”
Torn between holding Cassie’s gaze and responding to the duchess, he quickly looked away. “It was days ago, Your Grace, I am fine.”
“You won’t be if you don’t get out of my house,” Michael retorted.
“Michael, stop,” Cassie said, her voice barely audible.
“Actually, I think Thornton’s timing is perfect.” Hugh sounded far too cheery for the tense moment. “I was just about to share some news about Mr. Youngdale.”
“Who?” Michael, Genie, and Tobias exclaimed, all in unison.
“The man who compromised Isabel,” Cassie said.
Tobias groaned. “The woman you took into this scandalous Hope House place?”
The corner of Grant’s lips twitched, and that adorable dimple dug into his cheek. Oh, good heavens, why did she have the urge to run to him and kiss it?
“I see you told them,” he said. She nodded, and he beamed at her with unabashed pride. She dragged in a breath, her head spinning from the rush of it.
“Why should we care about this Youngdale fellow?” Tobias asked.
“Because,” Hugh began, “Cassie and Thornton defended a young woman’s life against him, even though they risked their own necks to do so.”
Cassie shot Hugh a pleading look. “I’m sure we don’t need to discuss that right now.” Michael was already at the end of his rope. Hearing about the attack in the alley and then the one at the rectory would push him right off.