Page 110 of A Wicked Kind of Husband

“But I can.”

The Duke of Sherbourne.

Her grandfather was not a tall man, but as one of the most senior men of the age, he did not need to be. Harry, at least, was smart enough to duck his head in deference.

Also joining them were Arabella and Lord Hardbury, the Duke of Dammerton, and…was that the Earl of Treyford? Heavens. Arabella caught her eye and winked. Behold the vanguard of the DeWitt army.

The duke looked down his nose at Harry. “You are not welcome here, Bolderwood. Years ago, I told my son he should have called you out for your treatment of Cassandra, but Charles said he wearied of bloodshed and was glad you had cleared the way for her to marry a good man. I did not understand what he meant until now. You disgust me.” He looked the younger man over coldly. “Do not think I am too old to call you out myself.”

“Nor I,” proclaimed Treyford, causing a dozen heads to swivel in surprise. “I used to love a good duel. Something about the smell of gunpowder in the morning.”

Cassandra was starting to wonder if she had hit her head and this was a dream.

“No duels, please,” drawled the Duke of Dammerton. “Much better sport will be watching Bolderwood’s face on Monday when the court hears the full story of how he stole Mr. DeWitt’s personal letters, bribed witnesses to provide false testimony, and prepared to perjure himself. All in a feeble plot to defraud Mr. DeWitt of money, because Bolderwood is too feckless to pay his own debts.”

Bolderwood looked around wildly like a cornered fox, edging closer to his wife, his sole remaining ally. He saw Joshua and prepared to attack—Joshua raised an eyebrow and he fell silent.

But the one thing an aristocrat always had was his composure, and Harry’s did not let him down.

“Come along, Phyllis,” he said. “I grow tired of this ball. Let us seek more diverting entertainment.”

With a sharp look at Cassandra, Lady Bolderwood took her husband’s arm and they swept out through the hostile crowd.

Cassandra could not applaud, but she did clap her hands together once as she turned to check on her grandmother. The duchess stood still and straight, her eyes locked with those of the duke, the couple engaged in the kind of silent conversation that was possible after a marriage of more than four decades. Then Her Grace inclined her head and swept out of the ballroom, two friends and her husband in her wake.

With the drama passed, the audience dispersed.

Joshua still had his arm around her waist. “Well done, Mrs. DeWitt! I am very impressed.”

Giggles bubbled up in her. “I think your father offered to fight a duel over my honor. What on earth is going on?”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I suspect your grandmother put something in the punch.”

“That would explain why everything tonight is topsy-turvy. This is the exact opposite of the first night we went out together.” She began to soften into him, then remembered where they were. “When you argued with your father and I tried to calm you down.”

“You mean the rout when you spent the whole time imagining women putting their mouths—?”

“I didn’t!” she protested. “Well, not the whole time.”

His laughter warmed her as no fire could, and all she wanted was more of him. To retreat to their own world and forget everyone else.

Which was difficult, when everyone else was in the same room and giving them little looks.

“Lucy is like an angel tonight,” she said. “I keep waiting for her to set fire to something, but she has not put a toe wrong since we left our house. Everyone already adores her and she will be a great success if…” She searched his eyes. “Do you think it will last?”

“I think you should stop worrying about her. Let her do the worrying for once. A wise woman told me we should enjoy things while we can.”

Cassandra felt odd, for as she opened her mouth to answer, she was sure that somewhere inside her lay the right words to fix everything.

If only she could find them.

But she did not. Because first the music started, and then the music stopped.

And then came the laugh.

Lucy’s laugh, washing over the crowd like a shower of stars, a laugh calculated to turn heads, a charm that turned thinking humans into automatons.

A laugh Cassandra knew too well.

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