The Conquest of Lady Cassandra (24 page)

Yates helped Cassandra down. Once in the house, Kendale turned her over to an old housekeeper.

“She will be in the first chamber at the top of the stairs, on the second storey, if you go looking for her later tonight,” Kendale said after she had left.

Yates would not mind seeking her chamber tonight. After what had happened on the road, he was sorely tempted. He would not, he decided, although he was not sure why. He followed Kendale into the library, where Kendale poured them both some brandy.

“What did you mean, you are seeking sanctuary?”

“There is the chance her brother will try to interfere. He may turn up here if he can follow us.”

“Hell, let him come. Half my servants are ex-army. We could withstand a damned siege if we had to.”

“I assumed as much. It is why we came here. Now sit and I will explain all. Oh, before I do—there is a vicar on this estate, isn’t there?”

It took Kendale a few moments to understand the implication of the question. He shot Yates a good glare and reached for the brandy again.

O
n occasion, although not recently, Cassandra had imagined a wedding in which she was the bride. Although that fantasy had been distinctive in some particulars, it had not been unusual in its general unfolding. It had never included a wedding dress that was little more than a muslin bit of practicality, such as one might wear in the country on a hot summer day.

It definitely had not included a dour old housekeeper and a severe Lord Kendale as witnesses.

The vicar, a second cousin of Kendale who was new to his living, proved flustered and flushed and astonished to be called for such a duty. He required reassurance that the special license was authentic before taking his position in the drawing room.

Just as the ceremony began, a storm broke. Cassandra watched the downpour out of the corner of one eye. The opposite corner of the other eye noted that Ambury appeared the most tranquil person in the chamber.

He would be quite a catch under normal circumstances. A woman would have a hard time swallowing smug glee if he had proposed without a sword at his back, and if she did not have several unresolved matters with him that might bode ill for the future. They would not speak of them, he had decided, but that would not make them go away.

The moment came for the ring, and to her surprise, one emerged from Ambury’s coat. She wondered where he had gotten it. The gesture and symbolism made the ceremony very real suddenly. Starkly so. All the bad nerves a bride might know over the entirety of her engagement assaulted Cassandra in one single moment when that ring came at her. Her hand shook so badly that Ambury had to clutch her wrist in order to catch her finger with the golden circle.

Then it was over. Done. No one moved for a long moment.
No one spoke. The vicar appeared frozen, his hopeful, cautious smile beaming her way.

Finally, Ambury placed his hands on her face and kissed her carefully, as if he guessed the terror in her heart. “I promise to take good care of you,” he said quietly.

It was not the declaration of love from her girlhood fantasy, but it was more than some women ever could count on.

“And I promise to make sure you never turn staid and strict like your ancestors,” she said.

He laughed, and the sound broke the awkwardness. People moved. The vicar offered his felicitations. Ambury took her arm, and they joined the tiny wedding party as it went to the dining room for breakfast.

“I
do not think we can ever repay Kendale for his help,” Cassandra said as the carriage rolled into St. Albans.

“We do not have to repay him. He is my friend.” Ambury was more interested in the outskirts of the town than her comment.

Kendale had been a better friend than most might be. Not only had he hosted their wedding, he had loaned them this coach without Ambury asking. For a man who lived in masculine indifference to society’s demands, Kendale had some unexpected insights, such as the one that said it would look very odd for Ambury to bring her to London in a stolen one-horse gig.

A gig with Aunt Sophie on the back step would be even odder. Cassandra decided she would let Kendale know how grateful she was that he had foreseen practicalities. The loan of two footmen and a coachman might be very welcomed too, before the day was out. She did not doubt that Ambury could intimidate any doctor into releasing Sophie when the time came, but it would not hurt if he had several strong men along.

“Wait here,” Ambury said. He called for the coach to stop
and was out the door before it completely did. She peered out the window and watched him enter a tavern.

She waited a quarter hour before he returned and climbed back in. “I think the place we are looking for is on a side lane three miles south of town. The doctor who lives there keeps to himself, but there are reports that he has a variety of permanent guests.”

Cassandra tightened with excitement and fear. “Have you decided how you are going to do this? Perhaps you should say my brother sent you to get her.”

“I am not going to lie, of course. However, I may say that her family sent me to fetch her. Since you are her family…”

She hoped that would be good enough. She pictured the unfolding of this drama while the coach bore them forward.

The house on the side lane did not appear anything other than a good-sized cottage. There was nothing to indicate its purpose as they rolled up. The noise they caused changed that. Soon, pale faces appeared at the windows on the second level and in the attic. Eyes peered down on them. Cassandra looked from window to window, seeking Sophie. All she saw were ghostlike presences and eyes. Confused eyes. Mad eyes. Blank eyes.

“I must go in with you,” she said.

“You will not.”

“She will not believe you are here to help her. She may think you are doing Gerald’s work for him and taking her to a more remote place. We will go in together, and if this doctor tries to stop her from leaving, then I will leave and you can return with these brawny footmen.”

He thought it over. “We will try it your way. But…” He reached up and took down the pistol from its box in the carriage wall. “He may have brawny footmen too, and I’ll not risk your safety.”

The occupants of the house were waiting for their knock. The door opened immediately. A florid-faced gentleman wearing an old-fashioned periwig- and fawn-colored
pantaloons and coats greeted them. A manservant, who appeared brawny enough, hovered behind him.

Ambury handed over his card. “We have come to call on Lady Sophie Vernham.”

Filmy eyes peered at the card, then at Ambury, then at her. “I was not told she would have callers.”

“And who are you, if I might ask?” Ambury said.

The fellow drew himself up tall. “Doctor Harold Wakely, physician. This is my home and my private hospital.”

“Oh, dear, has she taken ill?” Cassandra asked. “Thank goodness I decided to make this detour to see her. How like Barrowmore to try and spare me.”

Dr. Wakely did not know what to do, so he erred on the side of etiquette. Cassandra accepted his invitation to enter.

“If you will show me to her, I would greatly appreciate it,” she said.

Dr. Wakely instead showed them into the sitting room. “I fear she has become worse since she came here. Her memory absorbs her in ill ways almost all day now. That is why your brother brought her to me. She is losing all control of her mental faculties.”

“Oh, my.” She looked at Ambury. “I must see her even so.”

“She may not know you,” Dr. Wakely said.

“We will risk that,” Ambury said. “My wife was very close to her aunt and needs to offer her comfort if she can.”

“Your wife? Her aunt?” Dr. Wakely looked at Cassandra with surprise. “My apologies, Viscountess. I did not know you were family. Yes, of course you must see her. If you will follow me.”

He led the way through the house, to a door in the back that gave out to the garden. “She likes the flowers. She spends most of her time here if the weather is fair. Unlike some of our guests, she is no real trouble. Not insane, of course. Just entering her second childhood.”

Cassandra spotted her aunt sitting on a bench under a
tree midway down the garden’s main path. “Thank you. I would like some privacy with her.”

Dr. Wakely stepped back. “I will be inside.”

Cassandra and Ambury advanced on Aunt Sophie. Cassandra noted how her aunt did not move, and looked at nothing really. Her mind was elsewhere, the way it tended to be sometimes now.

Misgivings churned in her. Perhaps Sophie truly had gotten worse since she came here. Was that possible in only a few days? Maybe if one was in a house full of people who were very ill mentally, one found an escape in one’s own mind.

They were very close before Sophie even heard them. She looked over, that filmy distance in her gaze that heralded old images occupied her too vividly.

“Ah, Anthony, it is you. I knew someone would come and rescue me, but never expected such a noble champion as Highburton.”

Ambury took her hand and bowed to kiss it. “I am not Anthony, but his son. We look much alike, I am told.”

S
ophie blinked twice. Her eyes brightened and a shrewd smile formed. “You do indeed. You are much like him when he was younger.” She accepted Cassandra’s embrace. “How did you find me? I hope that Highburton’s son beat it out of Gerald. The scoundrel abducted me from my own home. Can you believe it?”

Yates watched as Cassandra took stock of her aunt. Right now Sophie appeared normal enough, but a few minutes ago she had indeed been lost in her thoughts. She had truly mistaken him for his father, which indicated she dwelled in those memories quite thoroughly at times.

“You will tell me all once we have you away from here,” Cassandra said. “Ambury and I are taking you home with us.
Gerald will not be allowed near you, and if he tries to do this again, we will go to court to stop him.”

Sophie looked from Cassandra to Ambury, confused. Then her gaze fell on Cassandra’s hand that rested on her shoulder. She saw the ring. “You are married?” She peered at Cassandra, then Ambury. “To you?”

“Yes. Just this morning,” Ambury said. “Other than my friend Viscount Kendale, you are the first to learn of it.”

“Well, well. Gerald is not going to like that at all. Indeed, it may distract him from bothering with me.” She stood. “I have little personal property here, and we should not delay to retrieve it. I would suggest we merely walk out a garden gate, but I checked my first day here, and they are all locked. Dr. Wakely has two very big servants to help him deal with the poor souls who truly are in need of this retreat, so I hope you brought a pistol, sir.”

“I did, but I am sure I will not need it.”

“You have more faith in the common sense of others than I do, then.” Regal, aging, but still beautiful, she appeared very alert to the world around her. “Shall we go? I daresay anyone who is sane would not remain such if left here too long.”

Dr. Wakely was waiting for them right inside that back door. He appeared pleased to see Sophie so aware. “Your visit clearly has helped today, Viscountess. Are you feeling better, Lady Sophie?”

“I am in fine form, my good man. I have been all day, and yesterday, and the day before. Indeed, I told you I do not belong here many times.”

“Of course, of course,” Dr. Wakely cooed.

“I am taking Lady Sophie with us,” Ambury said. “My wife will see to any care that she may need in the future.”

That startled the doctor. “She was put in my care, sir. I am obligated to—”

“You have no obligations. The family has changed its mind regarding her care. I am sure that happens sometimes.”

Wakely frowned. He moved so that he blocked the way
to the front. The big servant appeared at the end of the passageway. “I gave my word, sir.”

“You will not be breaking it of your own will.”

“The fees—”

“Are yours to keep, I think. Of course, the longer Barrowmore is not aware of this change, the more likely you are to in fact do so.”

The servant took a few steps forward. Wakely’s face turned red, and he more obviously blocked their path. “I cannot allow this. It is most irregular, and of suspect legality.”

Yates moved his coat so the pistol showed. He fixed Wakely with a hard gaze. “Do not speak legalities to me. You have been party to an abduction. Barrowmore has no authority over Lady Sophie, and you had no business accepting her confinement here against her will, without proof he had been given her custody. She chooses to leave with us, and I will ensure that she does so. Now call off your man and move out of our way.”

Wakely held his ground for a ten count. Then his arm went up in a gesture to the servant, and he himself stepped aside.

As Yates walked Sophie and Cassandra out of the house, Sophie tilted her head close to that of her niece. “See, dear? I told you he was delicious.”

Y
ates soon learned that Lady Sophie, in possession of all her mental faculties, was a woman to be reckoned with.

After putting ten miles between Wakely’s home and their coach, they stopped at a staging inn for a meal. Yates decided they should forge on, even if it meant arriving in London after dark. The ladies accepted that. What they did not accept was his plan regarding what to do once they reached London.

He intended to bring both of them to his family home for at least a few days while he made arrangements to let a house. Sophie would be safe there, and Cassandra would have some privacy and comfort.

“I would prefer to return to my own home,” Sophie said. “I refuse to be a burden on your parents, and would feel very awkward being their guest without their invitation.”

“They will not mind, I assure you. This is an extraordinary situation, and we still do not know what Barrowmore may contemplate doing. If you are alone in your house, we could
find you missing once again.” He assumed she would see the logic of his plan.

“We can solve the Gerald problem easily enough. Leave these footmen with me, and give them orders to throw out anyone who tries to enter my home.”