Page 34 of From Duke Till Dawn
“Yes, Your Grace,” Bowmore answered.
“You may go now,” Alex said.
When Alex turned back to Cassandra, she was gazing at him with a studious, contemplative look. “What?”
“Nothing,” she said at once.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
She looked reluctant to speak, but then she said softly, “Pull a cord, a man appears to do your bidding. A carriage to take you from one end of the city to the other instead of walking on patched secondhand shoes. I’m sure you could tell Bowmore you’re hungry, and in ten minutes, you’d have a feast ready to be devoured.”
He spoke bitingly. “I know acutely the privilege of my position.”
“But do you know the misery of others’ lives?” she asked.
“I won’t apologize for being born into my life,” he rumbled.
“And I won’t apologize for trying to survive in mine,” she answered.
“For someone without a single ally and in desperate need of a friend,” he replied, “you have thorny comportment.”
She pressed her lips together tightly, her gaze on the floor. Then, she said softly, “I’m... sorry.”
He waited for a glow of pleasure at hearing her apologize, or the lifting of some burden from his chest. No relief or gratification came.
“Words mean nothing,” he said brusquely. “Only deeds.”
“There’s not a thing I can do that will ever make you trust me,” she answered without a trace of self-pity. “Nothing that will make you hate me less—or keep you from taking your vengeance.”
“You underestimated me once,” he said softly. “And I misjudged you. You thought you could play me for a dupe, and I understood you to be a woman of honor. Neither of those mistakes will ever be made again.”
She stared at him, her eyes huge in her face. She looked both brittle and strong, like a slim tree in a gale. But he knew that she would bend before she would break. “I believe you.”
A tap sounded at the door. Bowmore appeared with a footman carrying Alex’s caped greatcoat and hat. “Your carriage awaits, Your Grace.”
The footman held Alex’s coat as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. After donning his coat, Alex turned to Cassandra. She stood with her hands on her elbows as if cold. “You have a pelisse?”
“Just the clothes on my back. I left in a hurry,” she explained, but he heard the underlying meaning. She’d been afraid.
Her fear jabbed little needles of worry into his chest. And anger at himself, that he should be at all concerned whether or not she’d been frightened.
Dusk was falling, and with it came a soft rain. Were there any coats in the house he could lend her? Some old castoffs belonging to one of his sisters? The youngest had taken everything with her when she had married nine years ago.
Why should he be troubled if Cassandra was cold? The lying swindler could secure her own comfort.
“Are you really coming with me to pay the staff?” she asked suddenly.
“They have to house and feed themselves and their families, don’t they?”
“That’s... kind of you.”
He bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile. “Kindness has nothing to do with it.”
Chapter 7
Silence weighed heavily in the carriage as they rode to the gaming hell. It would be stupid to try any small talk or chitter chatter with a man who held her life in his hands.Bit of rain tonight. Whenareyou planning on stringing me from the yardarm?
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alex cautiously. Night was falling, and street lamps and storefronts traced the hard lines of his profile as he stared out the carriage window. His hands rested on the brass head of his walking stick planted between his feet. He took up space without trying. She shoved herself into the opposite corner of the carriage. Cassandra tried without success not to let their legs touch.
