Page 26 of From Duke Till Dawn
His rage told her yes. Yes, he would.
The cab jolted to a halt. “Here we are, madam,” the driver called down to her.
She shook herself to alertness, paid the man, then mounted the stairs to the gaming hell. Instead of knocking for one of the skeleton staff they employed for the day, she let herself in with a key.
Inside, all was silent readiness for the next wave of gamblers. The front hallway stood clean and quiet. A maid polished one of the mirrors hanging in the foyer. She glanced at Cassandra with wary surprise. It was rare for the masters of the house to be up and about at this hour.
Cassandra gave the girl a small smile. But instead of going up the stairs to her room and the distant possibility of sleep, she strode into the main hall.
The tables were set for the night’s activities, with fresh cards and polished dice lined up and waiting. In contrast from the noise of the night, during the day, the hall was heavily silent and disturbingly empty. She glided between the tables, running her fingers along the wooden edges and over green baize.
These tables would buy her a new life. One where she’d never again witness naked suffering and betrayal in someone’s eyes. Or feel this kind of agony.
Never see Alex again.
Her chest throbbed, and she pressed her hand between her ribs to stop the pain. But it didn’t stop, only grew stronger and stronger until she bit back a gasp.
It didn’t matter if she saw him again. He knew now who and what she was. He hated her. Hated her so much, he threatened her with God knew what kind of revenge.
Needing relief from her painful thoughts, she glanced around the hall. There was enough room between the tables to add a few more, and increase profits. More profits meant greater security against her ever having to run another swindle. She could hide from Alex, and from her heart.
She ought to tell Martin about her idea for more tables. He was likely asleep, but he’d be interested in hearing her proposal to increase their blunt.
Cassandra left the hall and climbed the stairs to the private apartments two floors up. Less care had been spent on furnishing this part of the building, with some carpeting coming up from the floor and faded wallpaper lining the hallways, but it was warm and clean and a far cry from the filthy flash houses she used to call her home in London.
Reaching the door to Martin’s rooms, she knocked softly. No answer. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for Martin’s snores. When they’d worked together, posing as father and daughter, she’d always been able to hear him snoring through the thin walls of countless coaching inns.
Today, however, there was no sound. She knocked again, louder this time, but after waiting a few more minutes with no word or sound, she slowly opened the door.
The sitting room was neat and tidy. No books or papers lay strewn on the table or floor. Maybe a maid had been through, since Martin was notorious for the messes he made of his personal space. Cassandra recalled forever cleaning up after him, which he considered a vulgar habit of hers.
The door to the bedroom stood open.
“Martin?” She took a tentative step. “You awake?”
No one answered her.
Hesitantly, she made her way into the bedroom. She prayed that Martin wasn’t entertaining a female guest. But there was no sound coming from the bedchamber and Martin never mentioned any woman with whom he kept company.
Cassandra stood in the doorway and looked into the room. The bed was made, and the doors to the wardrobe stood open.
It was empty.
Hurrying inside, Cassandra went through drawers and cabinets. Not an article of clothing remained. Not his prized engraved shaving set, nor pairs of shoes, or neckcloths.
Prickly fear gripped the back of Cassandra’s neck. A terrible, awful sense of doom smothered her, building upon the layer of fear she already felt from Alex’s threats.
In a moment, she was back downstairs. The maid had finished polishing the mirror and was now working on dusting picture frames.
“Mr. Hamish,” Cassandra said without prelude. “You seen him?”
“No, madam.”
Cassandra turned and walked as quickly as she could toward Martin’s office. She banged open the door, then staggered back.
The safe in the corner of the room. Its door gaped wide, revealing an empty interior.
“Bloody hell,” Cassandra cried, covering her mouth with her hand. To keep from being sick.
