Page 6 of The Lady's Last Mistake
“Have you always smelled of apricots?”
He’d never stood this close to her—at least not since that ungainly embrace years ago at Fournier’s country home, Greenbriar. Grant had just pronounced Audrey, now the Viscountess Neatham, safely on the mend after a bullet had grazed her leg. Cassie’s relief for her widowed sister-in-law had been so stark that she’d thrown herself into Grant’s arms in gratitude. He still remembered the shock of her body firmly clinging to his, and even more shocking, his frozen response. He’d gone rigid—just as he had at the first brush of her body here in the closet. However now, his hands, which had been clutching her shoulders to keep her still, drifted loosely toward her elbows. While in the sitting room, he’d removed his gloves and tucked them into his jacket pocket, so his palms were now free to explore the smooth skin of her arms.
“Stop that.” Cassie started to wriggle, but just then, the woman’s voice grew louder as she entered the bedchamber. Grant gripped Cassie tightly again to immobilize her, but heneedn’t have. She’d gone to stone and no longer even breathed.
The lady hummed and giggled, most likely in thanks to copious amounts of champagne. At the familiar sound of someone relieving themselves in a bourdaloue, Grant thanked the lord he had not dragged Cassie behind the changing screen, for that was certainly where the lady had gone.
His eyes began to adjust to the pitch black of the closet, and after some rustling and more giggling, the lady returned to the sitting room.
“Release me,” Cassie whispered, flapping her arms. They smacked into shelving.
“Move again and they may hear you.”
“Then at least stop groping me.”
“I do not grope.”
“You needn’t hold me this tightly.”
“Woman, stop speaking. They will hear you.”
“Do not call me?—”
Grant lifted one hand from her arm and clapped it over her mouth. Immediately, she thrashed her head side to side to dislodge it.
“What was that?” The man’s voice reached them, and Cassie ceased struggling. Her hot breath huffed against his palm. In their struggle, one of her legs had slipped between his, bringing her thigh dangerously close to his groin. Whether she planned to injure him didn’t matter—he felt himself beginning to respond. He wanted to move, ease her away, but couldn’t, not without making noise.
“Nothing, darling,” the woman replied at last. “Let’s return, I want more fizz.”
Grant exhaled, and when the couple left, he leaned forward to open the closet door. He pushed Cassie’s body from his, and they all but tumbled out.
“My God, woman! Did you want us to be discovered?”
She glared as she emerged from the closet. “Of course not! Why areyouso angry? I’m the one who’s just been pawed in there!”
“I do notpawwomen.” His temper rose with wild recklessness. “And unless you wish to be caught in a compromising situation and forced down the aisle to a groom who looks curiously like me, you should leave.Now.”
“Happily,” she spat, starting swiftly for the sitting room. But then she stopped, and with a viper’s speed, reached out and pinched him hard on the shoulder. “That is for groping me!”
Cassie disappeared as Grant swore and rubbed his shoulder. The bloody menace!
Chapter
Three
The single window in Cassie’s office let in the bleak gray light of an early December snow fall. The small flakes were changing over to rain, and if the temperature dropped any further, the streets would be slick by the time she left for home.
When she and her partner, Miss Elyse Khan, had purchased the lease for the three-story building on Crispin Street, it had been nothing more than a collection of shabby rooms and landings covered in peeling wallpaper, water stains, and rubbish left by the previous tenants. In some places, holes had been knocked through the walls, exposing timber beams and plaster. Fixing it up and furnishing it had taken nearly two months and had cost more than she’d budgeted for, but at last, the rooms had been ready for the young women both Cassie and Elyse knew would come.
They had met at a Lyceum lecture the previous year. Cassie’s former sister-in-law, Audrey had often attended the lectures before she’d married Hugh and started their family, and she’d convinced Cassie that some were much moreinteresting than one might expect. The topic that afternoon had been a discourse of social reforms for the city’s laboring class. Cassie had been close to nodding off in her seat when she’d felt a little nudge against her shoulder. Coming to attention, she’d turned and found a woman of about thirty seated behind her, smirking. After the lecture, Cassie thanked her for saving her from the humiliation of drooling in public.
“It was a terribly boring sermon,” the woman had replied, “and his ideas for reform are flawed. He champions the banning of children under age ten from working in factories but insists an increase in wages for adult workers is too radical. Children wouldn’t be in the factories at all if their parents could earn a decent wage on their own.”
At her clear and confident opinion, Cassie had felt woefully lacking. In fact, she could hardly recall anything the man had said. They’d exchanged introductions, and Cassie had invited her to a nearby coffeehouse. Over the next hour, she’d learned that Elyse had been trained as a midwife by her own mother, an Englishwoman who had gone to India as a missionary. She had returned to England ten years later with Elyse, whose father had been a soldier in India. He’d contracted a fever and died, leaving Elyse and her mother on their own. Eventually, Elyse’s mother proved to be a much-trusted midwife in the East End. After her death, Elyse confidently stepped into her shoes.
“Doctors are already few and far between here,” she’d explained when Cassie had been stunned by how many births Elyse had presided over. “They often choose not to attend unmarried women, or women who look like me. Or anyone else with darker skin.”
“Oh,” Cassie replied, rather lamely.
