Miss Weston's Masquerade

‘At once, my lord. We will carry him through to the anteroom sofa while he is still unconscious.’

Nicholas thrust Cassandra back into his room. ‘Wait there.’

As she wandered round the chamber, a fresh cup of chocolate in her hand, Cassandra felt her spirits lighten despite her concern for the unfortunate Franklin. She had no idea what was to become of her, unchaperoned in this great house with a nobleman who was about to leave the country, but she had an irrational confidence that Nicholas would take her side, would not allow this marriage to take place.

Behind a small screen she found a ewer and basin. After one appalled glance in the glass hanging on the wall behind the washstand she poured water and cleaned her hands and face, but even dragging a comb through her hair did nothing to tame it. Experimentally, she dipped the comb in the water and wetted her hair, smoothing it closer to her head and back off her face.

She examined the result critically. Really, she thought, she made a very passable boy. Her lashes were rather long over her blue eyes, but she had dark, definite brows, high cheekbones and a firm mouth. She pressed her lips together, jutted her jaw. Cassandra was accustomed to being told she was a passably handsome girl, a description she had taken to mean she would never be pretty. Now that seemed an advantage.

By the time Nicholas returned, a furrow between his brows, she had brushed down her clothes, straightened her neck cloth and finished the breakfast. ‘Has the surgeon been?’

‘He has,’ Nicholas said shortly. ‘Franklin will be going nowhere for at least a month. His leg is badly broken but there’s no sign of a head injury and he can move all the other limbs, thank heavens.’ He pushed one hand through his hair and shrugged. ‘Well, there’s the end of it, I shall have to postpone my departure, I cannot possibly travel without my manservant and there is no hope now of finding a decent valet willing to travel at such short notice. Damn it, he’s not usually so clumsy.’

‘You do not seem very concerned about Franklin.’ Cassandra was slightly shocked that her hero seemed so unsympathetic.

Nicholas’s brows rose haughtily. ‘He is being attended by an excellent surgeon, he has a comfortable bed and has nothing to do but lie in idleness at my expense until his leg knits.’

‘You make it sound as if the man did it on purpose in order to inconvenience you,’ she retorted.

‘You have to admit, Cassie, I have had my full share of inconveniences today,’ he said wryly. ‘Now, what are we going to do with you?’

The question went unanswered. Distantly, from the stairs, Peacock’s voice could be heard raised in what even Cassandra realised was untypical agitation. ‘His lordship is not yet out of his chamber, my lady. He is not receiving visitors yet…’

‘Nonsense, Peacock, my nephew will see me.’ A forceful female voice overrode his protests.

‘Oh, Hades!’ Nicholas sprang out of his chair, dragged Cassandra to her feet and thrust her behind the screen. ‘Aunt Augusta.’

Outside the chamber door, Peacock could be heard making a despairing last effort. ‘I believe his lordship is not yet dressed…’

‘Well, he should be, idle young hound. I’m not waiting out here. He hasn’t got anything that I’ve not seen a hundred times.’

The door swung open as Peacock gave up the struggle. ‘Lady Augusta Armitage, my lord.’

‘So you are up, after all, Lydford.’ Through the crack in the screen, Cassandra could see a formidable matron wearing a crimson mantle and an alarming turban. Despite everything, she was hard-pressed not to giggle at the sight of Nicholas’s expression.

‘Good morning, Aunt. To what do I owe this unexpected, er, pleasure?’

‘Why are you not properly dressed? I do not hold with the habit you young men have of lolling about until all hours. Wait until you are married, all this will stop.’

‘I am sure it will, Aunt, and a very good reason not to marry, in my opinion. Won’t you take a seat? Let me ring for fresh chocolate.’ While his aunt sat and arranged her gown, Nicholas whipped Cassandra’s cup and saucer off the tray and hid them behind his back.

‘That would be very refreshing, Lydford, thank you. And now, to the purpose of my visit. Sit down, stop fidgeting, why don’t you?’

Cassandra had to stuff her sleeve in her mouth to stifle her laughter as Nicholas sat down cautiously, manoeuvring the cup under the chair. ‘Of course, I am always delighted to see you, Aunt, but you say you have a particular purpose for your visit today?’

‘Do stop squirming about and sit up straight. I certainly have a particular purpose and that is to bring you to some sense of your duty, since your poor mama seems unable to. I know you are about to set off on some wild escapade round the Continent…’

‘A series of cultural visits only, I assure you, Aunt. Now we are at peace with France again, the opportunity presents itself.’

‘It is to be hoped the Corsican Monster is safely caged this time.’ Lady Augusta paused long enough to allow him to pour her chocolate. ‘I shudder every time I think of that upstart Napoleon. However, I did not come here to speak of politics. It is time you were married, Lydford. I met my dear friend Lady Hare at a reception yesterday evening. Her niece was with her, a charming girl, eminently suitable. I have asked them both to stay next week at Woodham Park and I want you to postpone your departure and join us there.’

‘Aunt, grateful as I am for your invitation, what you suggest is impossible. I have a boat to catch tomorrow morning.’

&nb

sp; He really was doing quite a creditable job of sounding regretful, Cassandra thought.

‘Not without your valet, you won’t,’ his aunt retorted triumphantly. ‘I have heard of this morning’s accident, had it out of Peacock when I saw the state of the balusters. Do not try and gull me, you, of all men, will not leave without someone to look after your linen.’