Against his will, he smiled. “And you have a sharp tongue for a girl the world considers spun sugar.”
She raised her chin. “I’m stronger than I look.”
He was still smiling. He began to like Cassie. Which was a massive bloody disaster. While she remained a simpering little cipher, success had hovered within reach.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he said dryly. “I swear you’ll return to London as virginal as the day you left. You’ll be ruined after a night with me whether I touch you or not.”
She didn’t look relieved. She looked confused. “I don’t understand. If you don’t . . .”
She bit her lip and looked away, then met his eyes without wavering. He wished he didn’t recognize her bravery. Her voice was artificially even. “If you don’t want me in your bed and you don’t want to marry me, why do this nonsensical thing?”
He supposed shattering any illusions she held about her weasel of a papa constituted part of his revenge. His hands tightened on the reins. “Because of your father.”
Cassie looked more baffled. “My father’s in Paris.”
“Twenty years ago, your father was my family’s guest.”
He paused, searching for words. It proved more difficult than he’d imagined to alert this young girl to her sire’s sins. He plowed on, hoping the recounting would shore up his purpose. He had a sudden bleak recollection of Antonia telling him a story vilely similar to Eloise’s. “He seduced my sister and abandoned her to bear a child.”
Stubborn denial darkened Cassie’s expression. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
She shook her head. “My father may be a rake but he’s never ruined a girl of good family.”
Ranelaw’s lips twisted in bitter recollection. “Perhaps I should clarify—Eloise is my father’s bastard.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m under no illusions about Papa’s weakness for a pretty face, but he’s never worried the maids at Bascombe Hailey or the girls in the village. He wouldn’t seduce the daughter of his host, whether she was illegitimate or not.”
Ranelaw shrugged with genuine indifference. Cassie’s fate was sealed whether she believed him about Eloise or not. “Perhaps he’s changed his ways since his youth. Perhaps he’s become wise enough to pursue his vices well away from home and any unpleasant consequences. Not that he suffered any consequences from what he did to Eloise. All the misery was hers. Your father escaped scot-free.” He paused as old anger coiled tight in his belly. “Until now.”
“I refuse to believe you,” she said stiffly, although the gaze she fixed on him was troubled. He could see that his unhesitating certainty chipped at the girl’s trust in her father.
“Your prerogative. It makes no difference in the long run.”
Cassie looked increasingly upset. “Yes, it does. You tell me my father is a cad of the worst kind and expect me to accept what you say without proof.”
“The proof is surely in my scheme against you. But as I told you—whether you choose to believe me is completely up to you.”
Perhaps it was his blatant lack of interest in persuading her to accept his story that finally convinced. Devastation flooded her face. He stifled a surge of unwilling sympathy. He couldn’t afford to feel sorry for her, either because of his actions against her or for what she learned about her vile father. As it was, he clung to his vengeance by only the frailest thread.
“If what you say is true, I’m so sorry.” Her voice trembled. “Your poor sister. What happened to the baby?”
“Eloise’s daughter was born dead.”
“Oh.” Cassie stared down at her lap, at hands clenching so hard, the knuckles shone white.
Ranelaw braced for a volley of questions, further expressions of doubt about her father’s role in the tragedy, but she remained silent. Had fear obliterated her courage at last?
“Cassie?”
After a pause, she glanced up, her big blue eyes swimming with tears. She looked like a woeful young goddess. He felt no shred of sexual attraction, which was both a relief and a worry. He should want to fuck this girl. But his principal reaction was the impulse to hug her and tell her everything would be fine. Positively bloody avuncular.
“That baby was my sister,” she choked out.
He frowned. “Yes. J
ust as it was my sister your father wronged. She’s rotted in an Irish convent the last twenty years.”