When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

She shook her head. “No. People thought it amusing.” She could almost hear the strains of laughter from those in the vicinity.

“But you found your way into the room?” Verity clarified.

“Yes, I remember the heavy scent of perfume clawing at my throat. Nausea roiled in my stomach.” At some point, she had collapsed to the floor. “Someone helped me to a chair. The room spun round and round, and I heaved ready to cast up my accounts.”

“Can you recall anything else?” Scarlett asked.

Cassandra screwed her eyes tight, but the images wouldn’t come. “No, nothing. Everything went black.”

“What about sounds?” Verity said. “They’re often overlooked.”

A sudden knock on the retiring room door made it difficult to concentrate, but eventually her mind drifted back to that night. Indeed, she recalled the distant echo of voices. Two women. One barking orders. One obeying. “Someone sent the maid to fetch a flask of smelling salts.” The scene faded into silence. “I’m sorry. That is all I remember.”

“You’ve done exceptionally well,” Scarlett said.

Cassandra forced her eyes open and blinked past the flashing lights blurring her vision. “We’re no closer to finding the person responsible than we were a few minutes ago.”

Verity arched a neat brow. “On the contrary, the maid is hardly likely to forget the incident, and will remember who sent her for smelling salts.”

Scarlett placed a reassuring hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. “The question now is, which one of us will visit Lord Craven and ask to question the maids?”

Lord Craven had a way of making the hair on Cassandra’s nape prickle to attention. Indeed, she might have added him to the list of suspects had he not been playing cards with her father. “Best we send a man. I shall ask Lord Tregarth to make the enquiries. He hates the thought of people blaming Benedict for what’s happened, and he has the strength of character to demand Lord Craven’s attention.”

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Another loud rap on the door made them jump. “Hello?” called a high-pitched voice. “Is anyone in there?” The handle rattled.

“Excellent, now we all have a task to complete,” Scarlett said, seemingly ignoring the cries, but then she crossed the room and moved the chair. She opened the door and greeted the two matrons waiting to use the bourdaloues. “There’s a problem with the pulley system. The maid asked that we limit the use of the room until they fix the issue.”

“I see.” The matron looked down her pointed nose. “Someone should inform Tregarth.”

Cassandra smiled. “I shall see to the task.”

“And we shall return to the ballroom.” Scarlett led the way out into the corridor, and they gathered near an alcove. “I will inform Tregarth. You’ll want to avoid him seeing your bruise. I dread to think what he will do when he sees the cut on Benedict’s cheek.”

Lord Tregarth would bring the devil’s wrath down upon the man who had deliberately hurt his son. “The sooner we find the culprit, the better.”

“Agreed.” Verity’s gaze drifted past Cassandra’s shoulder. “Prepare yourself,” she said with an air of caution. “Your friend Miss Atwood is heading this way. I only hope you receive a better reception this time around.”

Having spoken to Sybil since losing her good name, Cassandra had every confidence the lady would approach. Indeed, Sybil’s green eyes widened as their gazes locked, and she hurried to join them. Introductions were made, though the ladies had spoken briefly on the morning of the wedding.

“I much prefer you in green.” Cassandra surveyed Sybil’s emerald gown and noted the neckline was cut a little lower than most gowns in her wardrobe. “Black is so unbecoming.”

Doubtless sensing Cassandra wanted a moment alone with Sybil, Scarlett and Verity made their apologies and headed back to the ballroom.

Sybil clutched Cassandra’s arm and drew her further into the alcove. “I don’t suppose Mr Cavanagh knows anything about the auction I mentioned?”

“No, he’s heard nothing. But Mr Daventry is here this evening. Perhaps Benedict will have a chance to speak to him.” Oh, it felt so good having someone treat her normally and not as if she had two heads.

“Yes, the devil is here with his mistress, Mrs Sinclair. I’m taking note of all the gentlemen he speaks to, but I lost him somewhere in the ballroom and suspect he’s ravishing the widow in the garden.”

Only rakes out looking for sport did that, but then Mr Daventry had devoured a lady’s mouth while standing in a bookshop.

“There must be a reason why he won’t tell you about the auction.” Cassandra was grateful for an opportunity to focus on someone else’s problems as opposed to her own. “If he means to be rid of your father’s possessions, I cannot see why he wouldn’t sell them to you.”

“No, and I cannot understand why my father sold the items to Mr Daventry in the first place. What would a licentious scoundrel want with scientific equipment?”

“Perhaps there is more to Mr Daventry’s character than meets the eye.” Atticus Atwood had admired intelligence and cared little for a gentleman’s lineage. “He must have thought highly of Mr Daventry to sell the rogue his personal possessions.”