‘That would be wonderful.’ Suddenly the swirling colours and the noise of the ballroom on top of the shocks of the evening were too much. Fresh air and the cool flagstones of the terrace would be soothing.
The Count propelled her gently towards the French windows. ‘Out you go, ma petite, and we,’ he cast a resigned look at Lord Stewart, who was obviously not going to give ground, ‘will fetch you some supper and a little champagne.’
The cool air struck the heated skin at her breast and forehead as Cassandra wandered slowly across the terrace to a pillared belvedere which stood empty, looking out across the gardens. She rested her brow against a fluted column for a moment and let her mind empty. Tomorrow she would have to think, to plan, but tonight that was beyond her.
‘Oh, Nicholas,’ she whispered against the cold stone.
‘Cassandra.’ His voice behind her came so prompt on her words, she thought for one mad moment she had conjured him up out of her imagination
‘Nicholas?’ She turned and saw him, unmistakably real, the moonlight striking dark lights from his hair.
She knew she had gone pale, but he did not seem to notice.
‘I thought I was never going to get you alone.’ He took her by the elbow and steered her further into the shadows, his voice low and serious. ‘I must speak to you.’
Chapter Twenty Two
‘No, Nicholas you have said quite enough,’ Cassandra began, certain he was about to confide the news of his betrothal to Lucy to her. She needed at least a night to compose herself to hear that news with anything like an appearance of complacency. She lifted her skirts and tried to brush past him.
‘Wait, please hear me out.’ He took her by the shoulders, holding her back against the pillar.
Cassandra shivered as the stone struck cold through the thin silk and Nicholas drew her closer to his warmth. ‘Don’t be frightened of me, Cassandra. I know I’ve been short tempered and difficult to be with…’ He broke off, running one hand through his hair distractedly. ‘No, damn it, I’ve been harsh and unfair.’
‘I understand.’ And she thought she did. He must have been on tenterhooks, worried that his suit with Lucy Hartley would not prosper. It was enough to make any man short tempered, and then to discover her deceit in Venice would have been the last straw.
Nicholas stroked the back of one hand lingeringly down her cheek. ‘We have both behaved badly, there are things I regret.’
‘There is no need. The regrets are all mine,’ she said thinly.
‘You don’t seem to realise the position we find ourselves in. I had not intended to say anything of this to you tonight, but now that Guy and that little witch Mariette are here, everything is changed.’
‘But why?’ Cassandra was confused. ‘He was so pleased to see me, he is your friend.’
‘So he is, and an indiscreet mischief-maker when he chooses, although Guy’s capacity for trouble is nothing as compared to Mariette’s. She bears me a grudge. One word that they met you in Paris disguised as a boy, and you are hopelessly compromised. Ruined.’
‘But Guy wouldn’t betray me,’ she protested indignantly. ‘And surely Mariette cannot be that wicked?’
‘I cannot take the risk.’ He broke off and regarded her with exasperation. ‘This is not at all what I intended. Please, listen to me, Cassandra, and for once in your life, do not interrupt.’
Cassandra fell silent, watching his face in the moonlight. No doubt he was irritated that he had had to take time from his newly-betrothed to speak to her.
‘What I am trying to say, Cassandra, is, will you marry me?’
Cassandra stared at him, lips parted in stunned amazement. When she could find words, she stammered, ‘Marry? Me? Marry you? But Lucy – ’
‘So you know I’ve spoken to her? Don’t worry, Cassandra, no-one else knows, and Lucy will understand, she is entirely in my confidence.’
‘Understand?’ What could he say, what could any honourable gentleman say, to explain why he was breaking an engagement only hours after making it?
‘I will explain everything to her. But, Cassandra, never mind about Lucy, what is your answer?’
What could she answer to a man whose lunatic concept of honour would lead him to jilt one young lady in order to protect the reputation of another he did not love?
‘I thought I had seen you at your worst, Nicholas.’ She stepped free of his arms, drawing herself up, anger shaking every word. ‘But I did not think I would live to be so insulted by you, or to see you behave so dishonourably.’ Her fury seemed to burn away every tender feeling she had ever had for him. ‘Now I see how you can behave – ’
‘Cassandra, you cannot have understood me. I repeat, I wish you to become my wife. Why are you acting as if I had offered you a carte blanche?’
‘Sir, I consider your behaviour as dishonourable as if you had asked me to become your mistress! Now, let me go.’ She spat the last words at him and ran across the terrace, tears burning at the back of her throat.