Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption: Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

‘Is something wrong, milady?’

‘Did you mean it, when you said I was arrogant?’

‘Aha, so that still rankles, does it?’

‘Disdain for others is not a trait I admire,’ she said quietly, keeping her eyes lowered. ‘If the villagers thought me conceited yesterday, then I am sorry for it.’

She heard him sigh.

‘No, no, they saw nothing but goodness in you. I said what I did this morning because...’

‘Yes?’ Cassie looked up hopefully.

Perhaps he had not meant it, perhaps he had been teasing and she had been too quick to take offence. He held her gaze for a moment and she was heartened by the sudden warmth in his eyes, but then it was gone. He looked away and she was left wondering if she had seen it at all.

‘Because we needed a convincing reason for not having a servant with us,’ he finished with a slight, contemptuous shrug. ‘Your arrogance comes from your breeding, milady, it is hardly your fault.’

His words hit her like cold water. She had been selfish, yes, and thoughtless in eloping without any concern for the effect upon her grandmother, left alone to face the quizzes of Bath, but she had thought herself truly in love and Gerald had convinced her that they had no choice but to run away, or be parted for ever. Perhaps she had appeared arrogant towards Raoul, but only to keep him at a distance. She found him so dangerously attractive, but after what she had experienced with Gerald she had no intention of complicating her life by falling for the charms of another man. Ever.

Raoul watched Cassandra’s countenance, saw the changing emotions writ clear upon her face. He had intended to make her angry, but his taunts had wounded her, she had not shrugged them off as he had expected. The hurt in her eyes tugged at his conscience, but it also affected him inside, like a giant hand squeezing his heart.

Bah. He was growing soft. The woman was an English aristo. She would take what she needed from him and then cast him aside without a second thought. She did not need his sympathy. He pushed back his chair and rose.

‘It is late and we should sleep,’ he said. ‘As soon as it is light I will go to the docks and see if there is any ship there to take us to Le Havre. Who knows, I might even find a captain who is willing to take you all the way to England.’

‘Yes, that would be the ideal solution and would suit us both,’ she agreed.

Her tone was subdued and Raoul guessed she would be pleased to see the back of him.

Well, milady, the feeling is mutual!

‘At least we have the benefit of two rooms here,’ he remarked. ‘If you will allow me to remove a pillow and blanket from the bed I will not bother you again tonight.’

She nodded her assent and he picked up one of the branched candles and went into the bedchamber. The large canopied bed looked very comfortable. Raoul found himself imagining Cassandra lying there between the sheets, her glossy hair spread over the pillows and those dark-violet eyes fixed upon him, inviting him to join her. It was a tempting picture and the devil on his shoulder whispered that a few soft words would bring the lady into his arms. There was no denying the attraction, he had seen it in her eyes, felt it in her response when he had kissed her. There was passion in her, he would swear to it, just waiting to be awoken.

Why not? In a few more days she will be safely back in England and you will be free of her. What have you got to lose?

‘My honour,’ muttered Raoul savagely. ‘I will not demean myself to lie with my sworn enemy.’

Enemy? The word sounded false even as he uttered it. She might be a lady, and an Englishwoman at that, but over the past few days he had come to know her, to see the strength and resourcefulness in her character. The uncomfortable truth was that he was afraid. He could not give himself totally to any one woman and Lady Cassandra Witney was not the sort to settle for anything less. Brave and resourceful she might be, but she was born to command. To take, not give.

And what have you to give her, save perhaps a few nights’ pleasure and that would demean you both.

Quickly he pulled the coverlet from the bed, grabbed a couple of pillows and returned to the sitting room.

‘I have left the candles burning in there for you, milady,’ he said, dropping the bedding on the floor. ‘I will bid you goodnight.’

‘Yes, thank you.’

When she did not move he turned. She was holding out her purse to him.

‘You will need money tomorrow, if you find a suitable ship for us. For me. I do not know how much it will be, so it is best that you take this. I have kept back a few livres in case I need it, but you are attending to all the travel arrangements.’ She looked up fleetingly. ‘I am not so arrogant that I do not trust you, Monsieur Doulevant.’

Raoul took the purse, feeling its weight in his hand. She was giving him all her money? When he did not speak she gave a tiny curtsy and hurried away.

‘Cassandra, wait—’

But it was too late; the door was already firmly closed between them.

Cassie undressed quickly and slipped into bed. She had done it. She had handed over her purse to Raoul, put herself wholly in his power. Perhaps that would show him she was not the proud, disdainful woman he thought her. It should not matter, but it did. She was a little frightened at how important it was that he did not think badly of her. She turned over, nestling her cheek against one hand. She had known Raoul Doulevant for little more than a week and yet she... Cassie shied away from admitting even to herself what she thought of the man. It had taken her months to fall in love with Gerald Witney and look how quickly she had recovered from that grand passion. Clearly her feelings were not to be trusted.

In the morning Cassandra’s sunny spirits were restored. They had reached the Seine. From her window she could look over the roofs and see the masts of the ships on the quayside. With luck they would find a vessel to carry them to the coast. The inn was very quiet, so she guessed it was still early, but she scrambled out of bed and into her riding habit ready for the day ahead. She emerged from her bedroom to find Raoul already dressed. She responded to his cheerful greeting with a smile.

‘Are you going out immediately, sir?’

‘I have not yet broken my fast, so we may do so together, if you wish.’ He picked up the bedding piled neatly on a chair. ‘We had best put this out of sight before I ask the maid to bring up the tray.’

It was only a matter of minutes before they were sitting at the table with a plate of ham and fresh bread rolls before them. Cassie poured coffee and they fell into conversation like old friends. On this sunny morning it was easy to forget the harsh words of yesterday. And the fact that they were both fugitives, fleeing the country.

‘How do you think you will go on today?’ she asked when they had finished their meal.

‘I have every hope of finding a ship, but it may take some time,’ Raoul warned her. ‘I shall have to be careful when I make my enquiries. Rouen is a busy port, there will be plenty of ships going to the coast, but not all of them will be prepared to take passengers without papers.’

He picked up his hat and she accompanied him to the door.

‘Raoul, you will take care?’ Impulsively Cassie put her hand on his arm. ‘I would not have you put yourself at risk for me.’

He paused and gazed down at her, but she could not read the look in his dark eyes.

‘I shall take care, milady.’ He lifted her hand from his sleeve and pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘Bolt the door and wait here for me. I shall be back as soon as I can.’

He went out, closing the door behind him and Cassie listened to his firm step as he went quickly down the stairs. She cradled the hand that he had kissed, rubbing her thumb over the palm for a moment before she turned and ran to the window. Their room overlooked the street and she saw him emerge from the inn. There was a pleasurable flutter of excitement in her chest as she watched his tall figure striding away. Excitement, but not fear; she had given Raoul nearly all her money, but she knew enough of the man now to know he would not cheat her. She trusted him. Smiling, Cassie turned from the window and looked about the room, wondering how best to amuse herself until Raoul returned.

The day dragged on and with no clock or pocket watch Cassandra had no idea of the time except from the length of the shadows in the street below. She reminded herself that it might take Raoul all day to find a suitable ship, but the shadows were lengthening before at last she heard a heavy footstep on the landing and she flew across the room to unbolt the door.

‘Raoul, I was beginning to—’

Her smiling words ended abruptly. It was not Raoul at the door but a tall, pallid stranger in a black coat. At his shoulder was the weasel-faced Merimon, her rascally courier.

Merimon put up his hand and pointed an accusing finger at Cassie.

‘That’s her,’ he declared. ‘That’s the woman who ran off with your deserter.’

Chapter Six (#ulink_bd32bec0-497d-5f72-b25f-ace37ace7706)

Cassandra stared at the men in horrified silence. Two uniformed gendarmes stood behind Merimon and the man in the black coat. Another look at the stranger showed her that his sallow face was badly marred by the crookedness of his nose. A memory stirred. Something Raoul had said, but for the moment it eluded her.

Gesturing to her to stand aside, they all marched into the room and the officers began to search it.