Page 77 of From Duke Till Dawn
Unresolved, unanswered questions swarmed him. They mystified him by their very existence. Certainties marked his life—or they had, before she’d tumbled back into his world, full of secrets and subterfuge and that one mole on her thigh.
Clean and dressed, Alex hastened downstairs. He went to the footman watching the front door.
“Have any women come to see me while I slept?” he asked the servant. Hopefully, Becky had changed her mind and come with Hughes’s whereabouts.
“No, Your Grace,” the young man answered. “Only the usual associates. Business and politics and the like. I said you weren’t at home and to leave their cards.” He glanced toward the tray that held at least half a dozen calling cards and a stack of letters.
He’d only been asleep for a few hours, but life proceeded apace.
“Did I do right, Your Grace?” The footman looked worried.
“Of course you did,” he assured the servant, who exhaled in relief.
“Has Becky Morton come by?” Cassandra asked, standing at the top of the stairs. Damp tendrils of hair curled around her ears, and she’d dressed in a pale green walking gown, looking like some Italian Renaissance ideal of Spring.
God, now Alex was thinking poetically. He really must be in a bad way.
“No ladies, madam,” the footman replied. He bowed, then resumed his post.
Cassandra descended the steps, a pensive frown tightening her mouth. “The longer it takes for her to make up her mind,” she said to Alex when she reached him, “the more I’m afraid she won’t give him up. Martin’s got a devil’s gift for words. He can make anyone believe whatever he says.” A shadow of regret passed over her face, as she no doubt recalled that Hughes had played her for a dupe through his application of more honeyed words.
“You’ve planted the seed of doubt,” Alex noted, “and that’s a powerful thing. It will sprout and grow and bear fruit.”
“I wish I had your confidence.” She sighed.
“Confidence isyourbailiwick.” He did and did not speak the truth. He had little faith in Becky—which meant they’d have to find new avenues to pursue Hughes.
But did Alexwantto find him? So long as the investors were owed, they remained a danger to Cassandra. Yet the longer they looked for Hughes, the more Cassandra could stay close to him.
She would go, eventually. But he’d seize all the time he had with her to make certain he remained a part of her, the way she’d become a part of him.
He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and kissed her. When he pulled back, he said, “The meal we had was fine, but I think we could both use something sweet.”
“Catton’s?” Her eyes brightened. “They make the best iced lemon cakes.”
“Then lemon cakes you shall have.”
Hats and coats and other accoutrements were brought, and in a few minutes, Alex walked with Cassandra on his arm toward the sweet shop. He declined the carriage, as the day was mild and fine, though the sun was already gliding toward the horizon. A warm breeze from the west carried green hints of approaching summer, and recent rain had washed the streets clean. An air of expectancy hovered over the city, something just about to show its face, but still in hiding.
The bustle and activity of London surrounded Alex and Cassandra as they strolled toward Catton’s.
It was sweet—and temporary. He felt the pleasure of it slipping away even as he reveled in the experiences.
“I forget how much I like it in London,” she said, watching a woman driving a wagon full of beer kegs shout at a tinker slowly crossing the street. “The exhilaration of the place. The possibility.” She smiled ruefully as the tinker made a rude gesture toward the woman driving the wagon. “The city’s not afraid of itself.”
“You don’t have to stay away.” Alex guided her around a suspicious puddle.
She shook her head. “There are enough sharpers and swindlers in this town.”
“Once Hughes is found,” he noted, “you won’t be part of their number anymore.”
“I wish I could stay,” she said wistfully. Her eyes glided upward, toward the sky, where dreams lived. “But it’s better I start over fresh. Argentina’s supposed to be a place rich with potential.”
“It’s very far,” he said darkly. “The journey’s long and dangerous.”
She glanced at him. “I’m able to meet the challenge.”
“That’s never in doubt.” What he did doubt was how much time he and Cassandra had left together. If Hughes was found, she would leave. If Hughes remained hidden, she would leave. Either way, he’d be here, and she’d be gone.
