Page 25 of From Duke Till Dawn
He couldn’t feel any victory.
“You’d never hurt anyone, Alex,” she said after a long moment.
“It’sLord GreylandorYour Grace,” he said bitingly.
“I know you,Your Grace.”
“Like I knew you? What are my secrets, Cassandra?” He took another step toward her, aware of how big and menacing he could make himself appear. “How far will I go to see you pay for what you’ve done?”
“You won’t do anything,” she said, “especially to me.” There may have been uncertainty in her voice—he couldn’t tell.
“Think about that tonight,” he said lowly. “Tonight and every night. What will I do? When will I strike? You’ll never know. But it will be coming. Don’t doubt that.”
With a choked sound, she scurried past him, then out the door. It hung open as light and noise poured into the storage room.
He let her go, even as his father’s voice crowed in his mind.
I told you, I told you.
A steady, pattering drizzle fell over the streets of London, making the roads muddy and slick. Everyone seemed irate and annoyed, shouldering their way through the city, growling or cursing at one another.
The gray gloom shrouding London perfectly suited Cassandra’s mood. She’d been unable to sleep after the club had closed, lying in her narrow bed and staring at the ceiling of her room with dry, gritty eyes, her stomach churning with worry, until circling thoughts drove her to rise and dress. She left the gaming hell with no particular destination, only the thought that if she walked fast enough, she could outpace Alex’s disgust, his anger, and his threats. Every face she saw was a mirror of his—hurt and anger in every stranger’s eyes, everyone plotting her downfall.
She’d never before had to confront one of her marks after a swindle, not when that same markknewthey’d been taken. For all her experience in the game, she wasn’t prepared for the hurt caused by Alex’s wrath. It scoured her, hot and acid.
Whatever they had once shared, it was destroyed now, at her hands. She could only sift through the debris and mourn what would never be. The anger and reserve she’d wrapped around herself protectively during their confrontation were gone. All she had was regret and misery.
And fear, too. He’d given her a warning that he’d seek retribution somehow, some way. When it would come, she didn’t know. But she didn’t think a man like him lied, especially when it came to handing out threats. This was a side of him she’d never seen, and it terrified her. Anxiety was a continual jangle through her body, pulling her tight, ready to snap.
Despite the mud and slick cobblestones, her pace was swift. She was dressed too finely to run, though that’s just what she wanted to do. Run and run until she no longer remembered the raw agony in Alex’s expression, the suffering in his words, or his vows to hurt her. Speed away as if she could outpace her own pain.
Only when she reached the cheerful front of Catton’s bakery and sweet shop did she realize where her feet had taken her.
After waiting in line, Cassandra bought herself three cinnamon and sugar pastries, wrapped up in a little blue parcel with brown satin ribbon. But she didn’t want to wait. Instead, she found herself a table and devoured all three pastries, one after the other. She ignored the curious and somewhat scandalized looks she received from the other elegant customers as she licked crumbs from her fingers. To hell with them. To hell with everything and everyone but this moment.
Her anxious gut didn’t care for her eating the pastries, though. A wave of nausea swam up from her belly.
After pushing herself up from her table, she left the shop. She needed to find her bed, and sleep. It would be another long night tonight, made longer if she didn’t get some rest before the doors opened. Maybe that would help the uneasy sickness that overwhelmed her. But with Alex’s look of shocked betrayal burning her mind and his words of retribution ringing in her head, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep.
She allowed herself one more indulgence and hailed a cab. Women of good reputation didn’t ride in cabs alone, but who cared? Happiness was beyond her. All that was left were small, useless pleasures. After giving the driver the destination, she settled back against the threadbare squabs, her eyes closed against the watery ashen light of day.
Alex’s words swam through her thoughts. They repeated themselves over and over.
Trickery. All of it. Every word from your mouth. Every glance from your eyes. Each touch and whisper. Nothing but deceit.
Was nothing between us real?
She told herself again and again that it was all part of the swindle. Every look she cast in his direction, every time he made her smile, or her heart beat faster—they were nothing but illusions she built to draw him deeper and ensure the final outcome. His thoughts and feelings shouldn’t matter to her.
But they did. Goddamn everything, they did. She’d been foolish enough to let real feelings for him grow. Now she reaped the bitter harvest of her folly. Would this pain never cease?
She rubbed at her face, forcing back the tears that willfully gathered in her eyes. There was no room in her life for weeping and softness. That was the clear path to destruction.
How far will I go to see you pay for what you’ve done?
Fear covered her sorrow like clouds over a burning sun. He could have her arrested at any moment. Dragged before a magistrate and tried for any reason. She’d be transported.
Would he really do that to her?
