Page 61 of The Lady's Last Mistake
“Theviscountis more than capable of opening said door if thevaletthinks it is too beneath him,” Hugh grumbled.
“If it is beneath me—and it is—then it is miles beneath yourself. A viscount should never open his own front door.” Basil rushed to beat Hugh to it, muttering under his breath. He and his longtime valet often traded barbs. In fact, it seemed to be their preferred method of communication. However, Hugh would never have dismissed Basil; the valet’s fussy loftiness could not mask his true affection for the viscount, and as Basil was with him long before he became a peer, Hugh trusted him implicitly.
Basil whisked the door open, and standing on the front step, wearing a dark velvet cloak, was a woman. The hood was pulled up around her so thoroughly, it nearly engulfed her face.
“May I help you, my lady?” Basil intoned, his request drenched with annoyance.
She pushed back her hood, and Grant swore under his breath.
“Cassie?” Hugh crossed the entrance hall as Basil stepped aside, allowing her to enter. As soon as she did, she set eyes on Grant and came to a halt.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” she said.
He hardened himself to her obvious disappointment and said nothing.
“What are you doing out at this hour?” Hugh asked. “Has something happened?”
She hesitated as she looked at Grant, but then commenced removing her cloak. Basil collected it and her gloves, and then with a raised brow—likely of censure—moved off. Cassie started for Hugh’s study with all the familiarity of a frequent guest. “I was followed home from Duke’s.”
Grant went rigid. “Followed by whom?”
Hugh shut them into the study after asking Basil to summon the viscountess.
Cassie went directly toward the fire. She was still wearing the dress from the boxing match, but her face had been cleaned of any blood, and her hair had been loosened and plaited into a single thick braid. It rested over her shoulder. “I have no proof, but I believe it was Mr. Youngdale.”
Grant stalked to the window and peered outside into the square but saw no conveyances outside the viscount’s home. Not even Cassie’s.
“Tell me you did not walk here,” he said, letting the curtain drop. Her home was less than a five-minute stroll from Hugh’s, the two squares adjacent to one another. But itwas late, and if she’d been followed, whoever it had been might still have been hanging about.
“If it would make you less upset, then no, I didn’t walk.” She paused. “But you should know that is a lie.”
Grant flexed his hands into fists. What had she been thinking, going out alone?
“Why would he follow you?” Hugh asked before Grant could react. The viscount’s ability to remain focused on the immediate problem only highlighted Grant’s own much narrower focus. It converged entirely on the woman holding her hands to the flames.
“That is my question too,” she replied. “If Mr. Youngdale has Isabel, why would he care to follow me?”
“You’ve likely left his face scarred,” Grant reminded her. “He could be interested in revenge.”
“Whatever the reason, he now knows where you live,” Hugh said with a heavy sigh. He tossed back the rest of his drink.
Cassie wrapped her arms around herself with an appropriate amount of apprehension. “That is why I came here. I instructed my footmen to lock the doors and windows and not allow anyone inside for the time being, but I didn’t want to stay there tonight.”
“Fournier will hear of it soon,” Grant said.
Cassie grimaced. “I am aware of that, thank you.”
“If you’d simply stayed away from Duke’s, like I asked, this wouldn’t have happened.” The moment he said the words, he regretted them.
Her fingers tightened where they clutched her arms. “You have already made yourself perfectly clear on that point,Lord Thornton. Would you please stop harping before I am driven to slit my wrists?”
“I’ll stop when I believe a modicum of good sense has leaked its way into your reckless mind.”
Her eyes flashed. “Do not boss me about! You have no right.”
“Even if it is for your own good? Your own safety?”
“I will decide what is and isn’t safe,for myself!”
