‘Sacre bleu! So, what do you want to do now, Cassandra?’
‘I don’t know, I just do not know,’ she aid. I love Nicholas, I cannot allow him to ruin his life.’
‘Then come away with me,’ Guy urged. ‘Whatever madness is possessing him at the moment, he is an honourable man. He cannot marry both of you. By coming with me, you free him for Lucy.’
Cassandra stopped her agitated pacing in front of him and stood looking deep into his eyes. She saw the concern there, and knew she could trust him, however madcap and unconventional he seemed.
‘I’ll do it,’ she said resolutely. ‘I’ll come with you, Guy.’
Guy took her hand and squeezed it encouragingly. ‘Don’t worry, things will work out.’
He sounded very light-hearted about the whole business, Cassandra thought. She only wished she could share his optimism. ‘I will come with you. I love Nicholas and if I cannot marry him, I will marry no-one. For his sake, he must marry Lucy, and you are right. If I am apparently engaged to you, he will believe himself free of his obligation and can follow his heart.’
‘You have had an idea?’
‘Yes. As soon as Nicholas is convinced of our intentions and the marriage to Lucy is announced, I will throw myself on Miss Fox’s mercy. She will find me an eligible situation.’
It sounded a neat solution, but she had an uneasy feeling that, in reality, things would not fall out so easily. That did not matter now, the important thing was to convince Nicholas she had gone beyond his reach.
As she had come to expect, Guy raised none of the objections she was so uneasily aware of. ‘Very well, then, it will be as you say.’
‘We must think what to do now,’ Cassandra said. Having made the momentous decision to flee with Guy, she now felt stronger. ‘We must act quickly so Nicholas has a chance of retrieving matters with Lucy, and I must leave a note for Godmama telling her I am going to marry you. She wishes Nicholas to marry Lucy, so she will do everything to promote the match.’
‘Is there a room where you can write without being interrupted?’
‘My room would be best,’ Cassandra decided quickly. ‘No-one would expect to find me there now. Come.’ she took him by the hand and led him through the maze of passages to her deserted bedchamber.
Once she had begun to write the words came easily from her pen. She explained that she had met the Count in Paris and fallen in love and now they had met again and seized their chance of happiness. Godmama would be deeply shocked, and the thought pained her, but at least the Dowager would feel free to wash her hands of such an erring goddaughter.
She pressed a wafer over the folded paper to seal it and slipped quietly along to Lady Lydford’s bedchamber. The bed was already turned down, ready for when the Dowager finally came to bed. Cassandra heard the chime of the little clock as she laid the letter on the lace-trimmed pillow. She hesitated for a moment beside the bed, hoping her godmother would forgive her.
Once she had gone with Guy, there would be no turning back, Nicholas would be lost to her forever. Then she remembered Lucy’s white arms encircling his neck so lovingly, and hardened her resolution. He was already lost.
Three o’clock already. Soon the ball would be over, carriages were even now collecting weary revellers, and the street outside was growing noisy with the rumble of coach wheels and the cries of porters summoning coachmen.
Back in her chamber, Cassandra pulled a small valise from a cupboard. ‘What shall I take?’ she asked.
‘I know nothing about the etiquette of elopement,’ Guy said drily. ‘Surprisingly, given my reputation, this is not something I have undertaken before, even in pretence.’ He paused, considering. ‘It must look convincing. Your hairbrush and so forth.’ He dismissed feminine toiletries with a wave of his hand. ‘And a gown suitable for travelling.’
‘Shall I change now?’
‘No. If you leave here in a day dress, it will be remarked upon by the servants. In a ball gown with an evening cloak and the hood pulled over your face, you will be in no way remarkable.’
He was right. Cassandra, her heart in her mouth, slipped through the throng of guests, flushed and laughing as they waited in the hall for their carriages to arrive at the front doors. No-one noticed her cloaked figure as she followed the Count’s broad back as he made his way out.
‘I will not risk drawing attention by calling my carriage. Come.’ He slipped his hand under her arm. ‘We will go round to the mews and find it there.’
Minutes later, they were bowling down the wide boulevard away from the Embassy towards the house on the outskirts of the city which Guy had taken for his stay in Vienna.
Cassandra sat in the shadowed coach, stealing sideways glances at the man beside her. He was not conventionally good-looking, his nose was too prominent, his expression too quizzical and sardonic, his hair unruly despite his barber’s best efforts. But his personality was so warm, his infectious enthusiasm so charming, that Cassandra felt she could trust him completely. And despite his devil-may-care reputation, she believed him when he said he would look after her.
Now the excitement of the actual escape was ebbing, she felt again the cold knot of misery in her stomach. She remembered Nicholas and their journey, the moments of tenderness, of passion, of joy and laughter. They could have been so happy together, friends as well as lovers.
She knew more about him than any respectable woman should. She knew he was bad tempered in the morning and that he did not snore. She was really most improperly acquainted with the Earl and his tastes. Despite her misery, a small snort of remembered amusement escaped her lips.
‘Is that amusement or hysteria?’ Guy asked wryly.
‘Amusement, I think. No doubt I should be having hysterics, but I seem to have lost the capacity for vapours.’