Page 48 of The Damsel
“How awful,” he replied. “And with she and Sir Downing married only a few short years. Did they have any children?” “They did not,” Martin murmured.
His gaze fell on Cassandra, who had gone silent, hands clenching the arms of her chair in a white-knuckle grip.
“Lady Cassandra, are you all right?” Martin asked.
Robert rounded the chair to meet her gaze, but found her staring up at Martin. Her face pale and her chin trembling, she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
She sucked in a sharp, swift breath, her voice hoarse when she finally spoke. “How did it happen? Do you know what sort of accident it was?”
Martin sobered in an instant, regret clear upon his face. “I’m so sorry, Lady Cassandra. I did not think. Was she a friend of yours?”
Cassandra stood. “No, but I … I need to know. If you heard how she died, you must tell me!”
Her voice had risen a bit, earning the attention of the other guests. The room fell silent and the card game came to a pause as everyone seemed to wonder what was happening. Only Lucy remained unaware, playing the pianoforte with that blissful expression of obliviousness upon her face.
“I believe it was a nasty fall,” Martin replied, concern creasing his brow. “She tumbled down the stairs and broke her neck. My lady, forgive me. If I’d known it would upset you so—”
“Oh, God,” Cassandra whispered, seeming to no longer hear him.
Pressing a hand to her belly, she seemed on the verge of collapse. Robert was on her in an instant, taking hold of her arm and wrapping one hand about her waist. He did not care about the eyes watching them or what anyone might think of him touching her with such familiarity. Something was very wrong.
“Cass, are you all right?”
“Robert, what’s the matter?” his mother called out from across the room. “Is Lady Cassandra unwell?”
Smoothing one hand up and down her back, he searched her gaze, trying to understand the sudden turmoil he found there. Tears filled them as she met his stare and shook her head, her lip quivering as if she fought against the urge to weep.
“I need to leave … I cannot …”
Then, she was gone, breaking away from him and exiting the drawing room at a near run. He was on her heels before he could think.
“Robert!” his mother called out. “What is going on?”
He paused in the doorway, fighting to maintain at least an outward appearance of calm. “Lady Cassandra seems to have fallen ill. I will ensure she is all right.”
“Oh, dear,” the baroness replied, one hand held over her bosom. “I do hope it wasn’t something she ate.”
“I am certain she'll be fine, but I ought to make sure. I will return shortly.”
As he ducked out into the corridor, conversation seemed to resume, Lucy continuing to pound away at the pianoforte. A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to find Cassandra making a mad dash for the vestibule and the front doors of the manor.
“My lady, your cloak!” called the butler as she rushed past him without stopping.
“I will see to her,” he told the man as he gave chase.
She pushed the doors open and lurched out into the night, then stumbled down the front steps. Robert’s heart thundered as he followed, reaching out in an attempt to grab her lest she fall and hurt herself. She managed to stay on her feet as she rushed across the grounds, skirts held in one hand.
“Cassandra!”
She paused near a tree and fell against it, clinging to the trunk as if for dear life. By the time he had caught up to her, she’d become distraught, her breath harsh and uneven, tears wetting her cheeks, tremors wracking her from head to toe.
“Cass, please … tell me what’s wrong. Did you know Lady Downing?”
There could be no other explanation for her reaction to the news of the other woman’s death. Damn Martin for his big mouth and lack of tact.
Turning away from the tree, she doubled over and wretched. The contents of her stomach spewed out over the ground as she trembled, coughing and gagging. Robert could do nothing but stand back and watch, uncertain what he ought to do for her. She’d never taken kindly to displays of pity or softer emotion, but just now he felt gutted at the sight of her like this. He wanted to make it right somehow, but first he needed to know what was wrong.
He stood back until she was finished, then reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a handkerchief. She accepted it with a shaking hand and used it to wipe her damp cheeks, then the corners of her mouth. He remained silent, waiting for her to shed some light on her thoughts.
