Chapter 15

Fifteen

At just two years old, Miss Catherine Neatham outshone all the finely turned-out ladies inside Hyde Park, firmly placing herself as the center of all envy and attention. She gripped the sides of her father's face as she rode his shoulders, calling out a giggly "Hello!" to everyone walking by on the Serpentine path. Almost everyone said hello in return before nodding or bowing their heads toward the Viscount and Viscountess Neatham.

"You look deranged, you know," Grant said as he walked alongside his friend. "Like you've allowed Basil to purchase you a chubby little adornment for your hat. Or perhaps for your collar."

"Basil would never select anything that produces this much spit," Hugh replied. His valet was notoriously fussy about the viscount's clothing.

"She's going to topple off if you don't hold her legs," Sir admonished as he strode along Hugh's other side.

The young man was exceedingly protective of Cat, and Grant presumed it was because he saw her as an additional baby sister. He already had three of his own, the young girls all living with their mother in the country, on Hugh's estate.

"I am holding her ankles," Hugh replied. "She isn't toppling anywhere."

Sir made a doubtful snorting sound.

"Are those the gentlemanly noises they're teaching you to make at Charterhouse these days?" Hugh asked, smirking over at the young man.

Sir, whose name was in truth Davy Givens, had started working for Hugh as his errand boy of sorts when Hugh had still been with Bow Street. He'd been a scrappy, smelly street urchin back then. Now, at about age fifteen, he was nearly as tall as Hugh, filling out with some muscle, and dressing like any one of the young gentlemen in Town. He attended a boarding school for boys in Surrey but was on a short break for the holidays and had come to London with Hugh, Audrey, and Cat.

Sir had come a long way in just a handful of years, and all because Hugh had taken him in as a ward. However, Grant suspected Sir was much more to Hugh than that. He was like a son, and Sir saw Hugh as a father.

"Leave Sir alone," Audrey called from where she walked a few strides ahead. "He only has Cat's best interests in mind."

Walking next to the viscountess, Cassie kept her attention trained on the pewter water in the Serpentine. She'd sent a note earlier in the day to say she would meet him at Hyde Park at the fashionable hour, and that she would bring Audrey and Hugh. She'd held to her plan and had been with the viscount and viscountess, as well as Sir and Cat, at the entrance to the park. However, she hadn't met Grant's eyes more than a few times.

It was for the best, even if her avoidance of him since starting on their stroll was sinking his stomach with every additional step. The previous day, he'd been irate when her note had arrived at Thornton House, warning him of her near to midnight visit. And not just because if she were to be seen visiting his home at that hour, their false courtship would have no choice but to become one in truth. He'd been irritated because picturing her in his home late at night, with his bedchamber so easily accessible, had also aroused him. His attraction to Cassie had become a powerful problem. But it wasn't something he could act on, especially now.

After Cassie's confession last night about Renfry and the baby, Grant did not know what to think or feel. His heart had ached when she'd wept, trying so valiantly to keep her composure. That's what she had been doing for years now: pretending. Being strong. Pushing away the pain. Closing herself off.

He'd been an arse all these years, thinking her a cold fish, calling her Lady Freeze. After what she'd had to endure, she'd turned cold for a reason: to protect herself.

But last night, she hadn't been cold at all. She'd let down her rigid guard and exposed herself to a man who'd given her no reason to trust him. A man who was coercing her into a charade that would benefit him. A man who was using her. Not in the same way as Renfry, of course, but still using her.

On the sofa, Cassie's eyes, her lashes sparkling with tears, had beckoned him to kiss her. He'd wanted nothing more than to give her what she wanted. What he wanted. God, how he wanted to know those lips against his. The glide of her tongue, the touch of her hands. The yielding press of her body. He wanted it with a keen pain that wasn't at all familiar to him.

And yet, he'd have been no better than Renfry if he'd taken advantage of her in that vulnerable moment. His rejection had stung; he'd seen it in her expression, and he'd lain abed until dawn with a tight ball of regret rooting in his stomach.

A dog being led on its leash crossed the path ahead of them, and Cat's little hand slapped the side of Hugh's face in excitement.

"Down, down!" she exclaimed, kicking her legs and nearly clipping Hugh's nose. He promptly did his daughter's bidding, lifting her from his shoulders and setting her feet onto the gravel.

It wasn't at all common for peers to carry their children around Hyde Park on their shoulders. However, Viscount Neatham had never intended to be a common peer.

"See, I told you, she doesn't like heights," Sir said, reaching for Cat's hand.

"She likes heights just fine. She saw a dog and wanted to pet it," Hugh insisted as Sir led the toddler toward the animal.

"You may as well give up," Grant told him. "You've been overthrown by your protégé."

Audrey paused long enough for Hugh to fall into step beside her. She latched onto his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder. The loving display was also something that wasn't prevalent in Hyde Park, where those of the ton walked primly and properly, with the expectation that every eye was watching and judging. Audrey and Hugh did not care what others thought.

Cassie, however, didn't move to join them. Instead, she followed Sir and Cat as the little girl made a dash for the white fluffball of a dog. She appeared to be anything but a woman strolling happily with her suitor. It was a fine afternoon, and the park was full of people who would gladly exchange the news of having seen Lady Cassandra and Lord Thornton together. They would also speculate as to why the lady appeared forlorn.

"Grant," Audrey began now that Cassie was out of hearing distance. He knew what was coming and braced himself. "I hope you know what you're doing. The rumors I'm hearing…"

"You shouldn't listen to rumors, my lady," he said with a playful grin.

She arched a brow. "Is there any truth to them?"

"That depends on what you're hearing," he replied.

"Thornton." Hugh held out an arm to stop him from taking another step. It was smoothly done, in a way that would not draw any attention. And yet, Grant knew he was serious. "I've heard rumors too. About Lindstrom and his demand that you marry again."

Hell. His second eldest brother, Harold, had always possessed loose lips. Especially when he was in his cups. He should have known the knowledge would make its way out into the gentlemen's clubs, then swiftly around London.

"I can handle the marquess," Grant said.

Hugh stared at him with plain doubt. "I don't know what you're playing at with Cassie, but my warning to you stands."

Grant bristled. "Why do you assume I am playing at something?"

"Because I know you." Hugh's each word was sharp and dangerously quiet. "The marquess has made a demand, and you will not have liked that. If you are using Cassie in some harebrained way?—"

Audrey laid a hand on her husband's arm as his voice began to rise.

"If you do know me, as you so claim, then do not insult me by presuming I have set out to harm Lady Cassandra." Grant stepped closer to Hugh, unexpectedly furious. "I am not like Renfry."

Audrey parted her lips in surprise, and Hugh hitched his chin. He inspected Grant another long moment. "She told you?"

Grant could say nothing before Cat screeched, diverting her parents' attention. The little girl clasped her hands together as if she'd been nipped by the little dog.

"She's fine," Sir called to assure them. "Just a mean mongrel."

The servant that had been walking the animal gawked at Sir and then strode away. Sir then picked up Cat and brought her closer to the water, to distract her. Cassie didn't follow this time. Finally, she met Grant's eyes, and seeming to take a bracing breath, came back toward them. She kept herself a good arm's length from his side.

"Sir is good with her." It was one of the first things she'd said since beginning their stroll, but it lacked the brightness of her usual tone.

"He is a natural," Audrey agreed, looking at Grant one last time before welcoming Cassie with a grin.

"How are Sir's mother and sisters?" Cassie asked. At the water's edge, Sir had crouched and was letting Cat sit on his leg.

"Doing well in Surrey," Hugh answered. Then sighed. "I hate to say it, but Harlan Givens's death was the opportunity they all needed."

Sir's father had been a brute, abusive, and neglectful, and his whole family had been under his thumb. Hugh had given Sir a refuge, but there wasn't much he could do for Mrs. Givens and her other daughters. Not until Mr. Givens had been killed a few years ago.

Cassie licked her lips, and with a meaningful glance toward Grant, asked, "There must be something that can be done if a man is known to abuse his wife."

They'd invited Hugh and Audrey on this stroll for a reason—to ask about Mr. Youngdale. How they would explain their interest in him would be challenging, as would be explaining how Cassie knew Isabel. He and Cassie had not had the chance to confer and agree on an approach.

"Unfortunately, there isn't much Bow Street can do in those situations," Hugh replied. "Unless the lady's family calls him out or takes vengeance into their own hands."

Audrey's mouth thinned in distaste. "A woman is the property of her husband, and he can rule her as he sees fit. It is shameful. There should be laws against it."

"I agree entirely," Hugh said.

"But what if the lady in question is not married to the abuser?" Cassie asked. "What if she is simply carrying his child?"

The question startled the viscount and viscountess into momentary silence.

"That is rather specific," Hugh said. "What is this about?"

With a look toward Grant, Cassie nibbled her lower lip. She was stuck on how to explain her interest.

Thinking only to alleviate some of the pressure, Grant said, "I have a patient at my Church Street clinic. She is in this situation."

Cassie exhaled with some relief. It only lasted until they saw Hugh glowering at them. "How does Cassie know of this woman?" Then, with alarm, "Have you taken her to your clinic?"

"That isn't the important point," she quickly said. "This young woman is hiding from a dangerous man, a Mr. Youngdale. He's the third son of a baronet, and we wondered if you knew anything about him."

Audrey asked, "Where is she hiding?" at the same time that Hugh asked, "What have you two gotten yourselves into?"

Cassie's rosy cheeks marked her as flustered, but even with Hugh's pointed questions, Grant could only think that they looked lovely.

"She is staying at my clinic," Grant supplied. "Youngdale. Do you know him?"

The viscount shook his head. "The name isn't familiar. You say they are not married?"

Cassie nodded. "She escaped before he could force her. Her aunt sides with him, so she has no one to protect her."

Hugh and Audrey exchanged a look, then cast it toward them. Their thoughts were of Renfry no doubt, and the fact that Cassie had shared her deepest secret with Grant. It smarted that his closest friend didn't trust him not to hurt Cassie. Perhaps Grant had been blind to just how dissolute his reputation had grown to be.

"The best thing to do, perhaps the only thing, would be to get her away from him," Hugh said.

"There is a place I've heard of," Audrey whispered. "Greer mentioned it once. A house of hope, she called it, but apparently one must find a nun in a parish to receive its secret location. It all sounds mystifying, but I could try to find out more."

Cassie's eyes rounded and her jaw went slack. Grant's own went a bit loose as well. Cassie turned her shocked stare toward him, and for the first time since meeting with Madame Archambeau—it felt like years ago—she grinned.

"What is it?" Audrey asked, peering between them.

Cassie wiped the smile away. "That is quite all right, Audrey, you needn't learn more. She is safe at Grant's clinic for now."

"She won't be if this Youngdale fellow finds her there," Hugh said. "There are laws against assaulting a woman who is not your wife, as paradoxical as that may seem. So, as long as she doesn't marry him, Youngdale can be brought up on charges if he harms her. If she does become his wife…" He shrugged as if to say, it's over.

Sir and Cat returned from the edge of the Serpentine then, the little girl's shoes and hem soaked.

"She saw minnows," Sir explained bashfully.

"It is December. There are no minnows in the water," Hugh replied as Audrey picked Cat up.

"We best get you home, little troublemaker," she said, touching the tip of her nose to the little girl's.

Their party turned back toward Rotten Row, where their conveyances and drivers waited. Distracted by their fussy daughter, Hugh and Audrey weren't listening when Grant chanced addressing Cassie.

"May I drive you home? There are some things we should discuss."

"I expect we'll take a turn through the park first, so all and sundry can see us courting." She was angry. About last night? Because he had not kissed her as she'd so evidently wanted? Or perhaps it was because she regretted letting down her guard.

"Perhaps we should sit on the same bench," he replied, thoroughly annoyed by her sudden change in attitude now that Audrey and Hugh were not listening. "I will whisper something in your ear, and you will laugh as though I am the cleverest man of the century."

"If I stoop to that, everyone will surely know the whole thing is a farce," she replied, picking up her speed.

He matched it easily with longer strides. "I did not force you to tell me anything last night, Cassie. If you are having regrets, don't take it out on me."

She came to a lurching stop and glared up at him. "I do regret it. I regret giving you one more thing to hold over my head. To coerce me with?—"

Instant offense lit through him. Unthinkingly, he took her wrist. "I would never hold that over your head. Ever."

Her hard, skeptical glare diminished, but Cassie still appeared timid. She did not know if she could trust him. Just as Hugh hadn't known if he could trust his intentions with Cassie. With Hugh, Grant had felt slighted. But with Cassie, he had the intense urge to prove what he said was true. He wanted her to trust him.

And yet how could she when he'd given her no reason to?

"Thornton." Hugh's bark came from a distance. Releasing Cassie's arm and breaking their drawn-out stare, Grant sought out his friend. He stood on Rotten Row with their driver, Carrigan, Grant's driver, Merryton, and Cassie's driver, Patrick. And standing next to Patrick was another man—her original driver, Tris.

Cassie gasped and started toward them. Fresh bruises riddled Tris's face, and his right eye and bottom lip had swollen to a grotesque size.

"What in hell happened to you?" Grant asked as he and Cassie reached them. It was a scene, one that did not often occur on the most fashionable stretch of road in London.

"Where is Isabel?" Cassie inquired.

Tris shook his head, his swollen face even more distorted as emotion gripped him. "They took her. Came crashing through the back door at the clinic and set upon me, four to one." He whipped off his cap and crushed it in his hands. "When I came to, she was gone."

Dread pooled in Grant's stomach. "Youngdale. He found her."

Sir came over from where he'd been standing with Carrigan. "Youngdale?"

"Do you know the name?" Grant asked.

Sir nodded. "Some lower toff? A baronet or some such?"

Grant focused on the young man. "That's him. How do you know of him?"

"He's a high roller at Duke's."

Hugh fixed him with a glare. "What are you doing at a boxing club?"

Sir patted his cheek. "Not ruining this handsome mug. Just betting a little. Got mates there."

Before Hugh could reprimand him for frequenting a boxing club and gambling, Grant held up his hand. "Is he there often?"

Sir shrugged and nodded. "Whenever there's a fight. Sits with some other toffs like he owns the place."

"When is the next fight?" Cassie asked, her eagerness worrisome.

"There's one tonight," Sir answered. She brightened, and Grant could easily guess what she was thinking.

"You are not going to Duke's."

She set her jaw and whipped toward him. "No, I'm not. Not alone at least. You can take me."

Grant fixed a sarcastic grin into place. "I'm not offering."

Cassie fumed and parted her lips to give a retort, but Hugh cleared his throat. "Cassie, on this, I must agree with Thornton. Duke's is in a rough part of Limehouse. It's not suitable for you—or fifteen-year-old boys," he added, tossing a harsh look at Sir. The boy rolled his eyes. "I'll come around later, Thornton. We'll discuss a plan."

After a bow toward Cassie, he gathered Audrey and Sir to leave. Audrey sent her an apologetic glance before getting into the carriage. Once Carrigan began to drive away, Cassie broke from Grant's side and started for her own conveyance.

"Wait," he said, catching her arm. "We need to talk."

"I've nothing to say."

"Cassie. Stop." The command was a bark, and much too loudly done. Heads turned in their direction. Cassie did stop her retreat but looked as if she'd have liked to rip out his tongue.

"Take my arm," he said more softly. Pink flushed her cheeks.

"No."

The stubborn, mule-headed woman!

"Fine. If you won't trust me, then at least trust Hugh. Duke's is no place for you."

"Just as Crispin Street is no place for me?" He recalled what he'd said before—that she didn't belong there. It had hurt her.

"I am only thinking of your safety," he said, his temper rising.

"I do not need you for that."

His jaw locked with the sudden urge to take her over his knee. The image both stoked his temper and stirred his loins wide awake.

"I think our stroll has reached its end," Cassie said, still holding his hard stare. "Unless you still wish to take that exhibitive ride in your carriage?"

He flashed his teeth, the grin more of a snarl. He snatched her hand before she could pull it away. Grant raised it to his lips and took a protracted amount of time—several moments at the least—to drop kisses along her gloved knuckles. Long enough for some passersby to see the display. "No need, Lady Cassandra. I've rather lost my interest in it. I'll take Tris with me to tend to his injuries. Good afternoon."

Grant lowered her hand, released it, and walked away from her, toward his carriage.

The bloody woman was going to drive him straight into Bedlam.