Cassia turned away, going across the room to stand at the window so that her sisters wouldn’t see her flush. As boldly as Richard Blackley had behaved toward her last night, as improper as his conversation had been, Cassia didn’t feel he’d intended her to be his—his trollop.
She couldn’t exactly explain why or how, and she certainly couldn’t tell it to Amariah and Bethany, but there’d been something more between her and Richard, something she’d sensed rather than understood. He’d already proved himself to be a ruthless man, perhaps even a dangerous man, and even without Pratt’s judgment she was certain that Richard had not been born a gentleman. Yet he hadn’t made her a blatant offer, as Lord Russell had. He hadn’t tried to put his arm around her waist or steal a kiss like some of the other gentlemen.
All he’d done was try to get her attention and keep it, whether by outbidding her for the painting or playing hazard because she’d wished him to. He had smiled at her, teased her, challenged her so she wouldn’t forget him. He had looked at her in a way that none of the others had, a way that had made her feel on edge with low excitement, almost as if she had a fever. Even when he’d given back his winnings, it had been to ensure that he could return to Penny House and see her again.
She slipped her hand in her pocket, finding the fish-shaped marker that she’d hidden there. She should have tossed it down the stairs after him to show her scorn and outrage, but instead she’d kept it as a souvenir, a memento. He had risked a small fortune to be able to see her again, and now, with her sisters, she’d soon learn the price that she must pay for wanting to see him.
“Surely we will not admit Mr. Blackley again,” Bethany said behind her, the muffled clank of silverware showing she and Amariah could go on eating their breakfast. “Not after the trouble he caused last night.”
“No, no, Bethany,” Amariah said. “We must admit him, and even consider him for possible membership. The other gentlemen will expect to see him there, to have another chance to win back their losses.”
Cassia listened, and held her breath. So he would be back. She would see him again. Inside her pocket, she turned the little fish over and over again between her fingers.
“But what of his behavior toward Cassia?” Bethany asked indignantly. “I know that profit is the goal of Penny House, but surely you don’t intend to let his attention go unchecked?”
Amariah tapped the folded newspaper. “I have already sent letters to the editors of these papers, telling them that while we appreciated Mr. Blackley’s generosity, we have returned his winnings to him, and advised him of the propriety that Penny House expects from its guests. There was also a pretty bit about us three being as virtuous as Caesar’s wife that I’m sure they’ll print.”
At last Cassia turned to face her sisters. “And what of me, then?” she asked with gloomy resignation. “Shall I be banished to the garret to keep from shaming us all again?”
“That’s stuff and nonsense, Cassia, which you know perfectly well.” Amariah twisted around in her chair to see her. “It was hardly your fault. I told you before this wouldn’t be the same as the Havertown Assembly, and I doubt there is a man like Mr. Blackley to be found in all of Sussex, nor one so dashingly handsome. He was far outside of your experience.”
Cassia hung back, feeling both contrite and rebellious at once. “So I will be put in the garret, to keep from Mr. Blackley’s experienced path.”
“Oh, hush, you little goose,” Amariah scolded gently. “You did exactly the right thing with such a man, not shrieking at him or slapping him like a fishwife. You were the model of restraint, when I know you’d prefer to flay him with the lash end of your temper.”
Cassia didn’t answer. There wasn’t really a need to, considering.
“But next time, you won’t be taken by surprise, will you?” Amariah was smiling, but she was also watching Cassia so closely, making sure there was only one response. “Whether with Mr. Blackley or some other gentleman, you will make certain matters do not progress quite so far, won’t you?”
“No, Amariah, I won’t be taken by surprise again,” Cassia said, as meekly as she could.
“I didn’t think so.” Amariah’s smile returned to its customary serenity. “Which is good. There will be plenty of new gentlemen tonight who will expect you to bring them the same kind of extraordinary luck.”
Cassia smiled, and for the first time since Richard had come toward her from the hazard room, she felt her shoulders unknot and the anxiety begin to slip away.
She hadn’t spoiled everything. She hadn’t shamed her sisters.
And the odds were excellent that she’d see Richard Blackley again tonight.
Bethany nodded, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “I am not quite sure why, but these gentlemen do seem to love us the more for being virtuous in an unvirtuous business. La, how many times last night did I have to tell of how we traded the vicarage for St. James Street!”
Amariah sighed, spreading another glistening blob of jam on her toast. “One old gentleman told me that we’d have twice the number clamoring for admission if only we could have our portraits taken and shown, the three of us together. Can you fancy such a thing?”
“Not yet, perhaps,” Cassia said, pacing slowly back and forth as she thought aloud. “But what if we hired an open carriage and went riding in Hyde Park? That is where all the ladies go to take the air, and to be admired. We might as well do so, too.”
“But not today,” Bethany said quickly. “I have so many things still to do in the kitchen that I can’t—”
“Yes, today!” Amariah smiled, and struck her open palm on the edge of the table for emphasis. “This is the perfect day to show that we are calm and at ease, as unruffled as can be by last night.”
Cassia glanced at the window again, at the sunshine and watery blue sky over the slate roofs and chimney pots. It wasn’t the sweet-smelling green fields of their old home in Sussex, but to put on her best hat and ride in an open carriage, to be perfectly idle and do nothing but admire the passing scenery—that would be a rare, wondrous treat.
“Might I come, too, Amariah?” she asked, her voice rising with hope, almost pleading. “Even after last night?”
“Must you ask?” Amariah’s blue eyes were bright with determination, and amusement as well. “After last night, Cassia, I’d be a fool—a wicked fool—to leave you behind.”
Three copper-haired visions shouldn’t be hard to find, even in London.
Richard kept his horse at an easy pace as he rode through the park, weaving among other riders and carriages. He paid little attention to the trees or the newly blooming flowers, and even less to the women who smiled at him from beneath their broad-brimmed hats. He was hunting for quarry much more specific than that, and for a few coins the footman at Penny House had told him exactly where to begin his search. A flame-haired beauty, riding with her sisters in an open carriage, should not be so difficult a needle to find in this haystack, even if Hyde Park was larger than many sugar plantations he’d known.
But in the end it wasn’t her hair that led him to her, but the sound of her laughter coming from the other side of a stand of yews, merry and bubbling and unmistakably hers. Quickly he guided his horse through the trees to the next graveled path, and there she was.
“Miss Penny,” he said, drawing his horse close to the carriage. “I’ve found you.”
She smiled at him, the remnants of her merriment still showing on her face. “Gracious, Mr. Blackley. And here I’d no notion I’d been lost!”
“Lost to me,” he said. “I need to speak to you.”