Page 69 of The Lady's Last Mistake
“Being a physician is entirely respectable.” She brought her hands to the table, laying them flat on the lace cloth. “As is being the wife of one.”
Grant hitched his chin, unable to peel his eyes from her. By her solemn expression, Cassie was entirely serious. The marquess, though, bayed laughter.
“I thought I told you that you would have to take him in hand, my lady,” he said, busily cutting the meat on his plate instead of looking at her. “You must stand up to him or his selfishness will taint your position in society far faster than you might imagine.”
Cassie leaned forward, her hands pressing against the table. “I think everyone here would be better served if someone were to stand up toyou.”
Someone at the table dropped a utensil onto their plate. All other noise ceased. The marquess set his fork and knifedown. Slowly, he looked at Cassie as if he’d never seen her before.
Grant tensed, ready to intercede.
“That is an interesting observation, Lady Cassandra. Do explain your point.” His father’s solicitous tone was anything but genuine.
“I can see now why Grant has said so little about you,” she started, undaunted. “Your willingness to disparage him so vocally to me upon our first meeting can be nothing compared to how callous you are toward him in private.”
The marquess scoffed. “I have nothing to hide.”
“Perhaps youshouldhide better your dislike for your son. It is entirely unbecoming, not to mention unfounded. He has helped countless people as a physician, and rather than be embarrassed by it, you should be proud.”
Cassie pushed to her feet and with mounting wonder and admiration, Grant marveled at the picture she made as she glared down at his father, who looked as if he’d gotten a piece of gristle stuck in his throat.
The marquess touched his napkin to his mouth then tossed it onto his plate. He pushed back his chair and stood to meet Cassie’s challenge. “Why you saucy little chit?—”
Grant’s fist came down onto the table like a pistol shot, rattling china and crystal all around. He was on his feet before his father could utter another sound.
“You will address her as Lady Cassandra, or you will not address her at all.”
The marquess curled his lip, and Grant’s reflexive ambition to always push his father one more inch took over. He met Cassie’s wide eyes and added with a smirk, “Besides, I amthe only man in this room permitted to call her a saucy little anything.”
She struggled not to grin, but when James leaned back in his chair and chuckled, she gave in. Cassie covered her mouth and retook her seat. Down the table, Penelope cleared her throat and in a low, theatrical voice, said,“I am the only man permitted to call her a saucy little anything.”
Priscilla snorted a laugh while taking a sip of her wine, which only caused James to laugh louder. The alarmed mood around the table shifted back toward normalcy, the tension breaking and vanishing in a wink. This was how it always was with this family, and as Lawrence admonished Penelope to show more reserve, and Harold asked Alfred, seated next to Priscilla, to pat his wife’s back before she choked, even the marquess could not stop himself from rolling his eyes in capitulation.
Grant’s attention sealed on the woman across from him as he retook his seat. Cassie’s laughter joined that of his siblings, and as he had the previous night, he relished the sound of it. That she’d so swiftly stood up to his tyrant of a father should not have surprised him. But that she would defend him at all, after everything he’d done, left him curiously humbled. He didn’t deserve it. Perhaps in this instance, his father had been correct after all.
The rest of the dinner unfolded without any more cross words or arguments, unless a debate about whist being the superior card game tovingt-et-uncounted as cross words. The marquess had wisely forgone speaking to Cassie, allowing James to rule most of her attention, though several times Grant caught her furtive looks across the table.
The marquess had stood to announce brandy in thebilliards room and sherry for ladies in the drawing room when Harding joined them.
“My lord, I’ve reports that the roads to Town have become all but impassable. Several of the drivers are saying the snow has turned to ice. Perhaps it would be prudent to prepare guest rooms?”
As if magnetically, Grant’s eyes went to Cassie just as hers landed on him. Words weren’t necessary to know what was going through her mind. To be stuck here, in this house, under one roof for the night was more than just not ideal. It was dangerous. He swallowed hard, past a pulse of panic in his throat.
“Bring my driver. I will speak to him myself.” Grant started for the door. Merryton would simply have to try to take them back across the river and toward home.
“Don’t be a fool,” Harold called. “You’ll only be stranded in your carriage all night should you go off the road.”
Grant slowed his stride. As overly nervous as his brother usually was, he had a good point. He could not risk an accident that would put Cassie in danger. Not even if the image of Cassie, sprawled in a bed in a guest room down the hall from him, gave him the first twinges of arousal.
“Prepare the rooms, Harding,” Lindstrom snapped.
“I’ve been telling you for years to lease a house closer to Town for the winter months,” Lawrence complained loudly to their father as everyone shuffled off toward their respective after-dinner rooms.
With a last wary glance toward Grant, Cassie linked arms with Penelope and followed them.
Hellfire.This was going to be a disaster.
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