Page 26 of The Lady's Last Mistake
Grant turned toward her, intrigued now. Especially when her cheeks began to turn pink. “And?”
Cassie faltered, and he presumed she would back down. He should have known better.
She turned to face him as he had her, to meet his challenge, her blue irises stormy. “And sink your teeth into me.”
The hum of the room’s noise muffled. The pulse in his throat slowed. It then gave a throb to catch up, and unintentionally, he let out a chuff of air. Well. He hadn’t expectedthat. The image her words brought forth made his tongue thick, his brain, fuzzy. He was unprepared for the heat coiling through his groin too.
A light of victory began to cut through Cassie’s turbulent eyes. He shook off the stupor and smirked. “I’m saving that for Rotten Row tomorrow afternoon.”
She stepped closer. Or perhaps he’d been the one to do so. Her scent of sun-drenched apricotsfilled his nose. “Tomorrow is Saturday. You would abandon your precious clinic to engage in this farce of yours?”
“Not at all. I have help at the clinic and am perfectly able to leave early to escort you,darling.”
She fumed. “I will refuse you on the spot.”
“Don’t mistake my pleasant countenance for bluffing, Lady Cassandra. Iwillgo to your brother.”
“Are you such a villain that you would expose a charity home serving women in need?”
“No, my lady. I am only villain enough to exposeyou.”
It was unctuous and repellant. And yet her simmering response to his overblown threats brought him a terrible pleasure. It was sinfully wrong of him, he knew. He wasn’t a villain. At least, he didn’t think of himself as one. If push came to shove, he would be hard pressed to follow through with telling the duke. However, for the moment, it was far too entertaining, too wickedly enjoyable, watching Cassie squirm.
“Ah, Lord Thornton, if I am correct?”
Cassie severed her scalding glare and whipped around to greet the newly returned Mr. Forsythe. Grant flashed his teeth. It made him think of Cassie’s comment about sinking them into her.Hellfire.
“Mr. Forsythe. A pleasure.”
The man seemed pleased by Grant’s familiarity, yet he wasn’t sure how the baron’s son had known him. Perhaps his reputation truly did precede him.
He handed Cassie an overly full glass of punch. She took it, careful not to spill it and stain her gloves. Grant smothered a laugh.
“Are you enjoying the performance?” Mr. Forsythe asked.
Up close, Grant could see he wasn’t unpleasant to look at. He would be considered handsome among the female set, in a boyish, open, and amiable way. But Cassie could not possibly be serious about this man. The duke had to have set this evening up.
With his gaze still latched onto the lady, Grant sipped his champagne and replied, “Immensely.”
After an awkward moment of quiet between the three of them, a man came toward Forsythe, drawing his attention. Grant leaned toward Cassie, and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I will call on you tomorrow at three o’clock.”
He lingered an extra heartbeat near her ear, inhaling the scent of warm fruit, before stepping away. His head did not clear as quickly as he’d hoped. That was when he knew this would be a dangerous game.
Chapter
Nine
Cassie was beginning to think all men, no matter their rank or relation to her, were manipulative deceivers.
The previous week, Michael had pleaded with her to attend an upcoming performance at the opera with him and Genie, and to placate him, she’d agreed. But as soon as her brother had collected her in his carriage and set out for the theatre, he’d announced that they would be joined by Mr. Alaric Forsythe.
She’d been so preoccupied the last few days with thoughts of Grant and his heartless threat that everything else had fallen aside—including Michael’s clear intent to pair her with Mr. Forsythe. It was the last thing she’d wanted to deal with after such a disappointing day. She’d gone to Marylebone to check in on a past resident of Hope House, Miss Emily Stafford. The young woman had turned her infant over for placement, and Cassie had helped her to find employment, to get back on her feet. But the drapers where Miss Stafford had successfully applied had informed Cassiethat she was no longer employed there. She also was not at the lodging house Cassie had found for her. No one knew where she had gone, and now, Cassie could only hope that she was well.
It wasn’t until she’d arrived back at Grosvenor Square feeling defeated, and Ruth had hurried her along to her bedchamber to dress, that she recalled her commitment to the opera. Being pleasant with Mr. Forsythe had been a chore she hadn’t wanted. And then, when Grant Thornton cornered her, he’d drained her patience entirely.
The man deserved the glass of brandy thrown at his head the other evening. He was the lowest, vilest, most unscrupulous blackguard to propose what he had. To possess a reputation as a rake was one thing, but to compel her to help him put off his father’s demands of marriage by engaging in a fake courtship was despicable. And to use the secret of Hope House as leverage was even more contemptible.
Would he truly tell Michael? She didn’t know Grant well enough to be sure. He tended to treat everything like a merry joke, but he’d appeared utterly sincere in her study while laying out his proposal—or rather, his self-serving demands.
