The Tigresse and the Raven (The Friendship Series Book 1) Page 3

  “But Rave, you promised to let me watch!”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t give me time to try out my lisp.”

  Peppleton blinked and burbled a slurred suggestion. “I should love to be of assistance to you, Sir Harry, as soon as I have completed this interview with Ravenswold.”

  Harry laughed, waved farewell to Ravenswold and shut the door. Lord Peppleton fixed a polite smile on his thin lips and turned. Rave’s chokehold on his cravat cut off his opening words. He got lifted until the toes of his slippers left the carpet and still he only came to Rave’s chin. Peppleton flailed and Rave dealt the twit a nasty shake.

  “Shut up, Peppleton. You’re here to listen. It has come to my attention that you are bandying a lady’s name about the clubs. You will cease to do so, and if I should hear that you continue to spout lies about her, I’ll feed your stones to my swine.”

  To emphasize the threat, Rave grabbed Peppleton by the lapels. He slammed the horrified baron against the wall and shoved a knee into his belly. Terrified to the point of incontinence, Peppleton soaked his breeches and babbled, “Please, my lord, there is no reason for you to challenge me!”

  Rave released Peppleton’s jacket and clamped his fingers around the baron’s throat. “I only challenge gentlemen of character and wouldn’t waste my time or the shot to put a period to your miserable life. I’ll merely squeeze you out of existence.”

  He illustrated his warning, and Peppleton’s complexion went from white to ashen. His eyes bulged as he grappled with the grip on his throat. Rave freed the baron before he passed out, and Peppleton collapsed on the floor.

  Shuddering with the repressed need to wreak more violence, Rave heard his voice come out like a growl. “See that you say nothing to anyone about this interview, Peppleton, and remember my swine. They got quite a taste for testicles the last time we castrated the cattle.”

  Rave wondered if Peppleton was too busy throwing up wine and ham on the Aubusson carpet to hear his warning and issued another threat. “This time, Peppleton, I’m letting you live. Next time, I won’t.”

  Chapter 4

  “Cass?”

  Cassandra pretended not to hear her father and continued to gaze out the window. The pamphlet on her lap, lying forgotten in the sun-heated folds of soft merino, pertained to the dreaded equine problem of laminitis. The subject of horses was the only topic that interested her enough to sit down and read. She loved to study and dream of her own breeding farm. The tough paper crunched when she clutched it in her fist.

  Behind her, she heard the door snap shut and her father’s tread crossing to where she sat on a divan sheathed in cerulean satin. Used as the primary receiving room, the blue saloon contained furniture and carpets of the finest quality. Her mother furnished it in a lavish style in shades to enhance the celebrated beauty of her eyes. She rubbed a palm over the couch’s slick surface to distract from her father presence but could no longer ignore him. The time had come to deal with what he’d come to say.

  “My dear, I wish you could see the picture you make in the sunlight, your hair alight with coppery fire. The green suits you. And the day. It’s sunny but quite cold. Dress warmly if you go out.”

  She nodded and stared, but didn’t really see, the pedestrians strolling around the park in Grosvenor Square. She’d been watching something else on and off all morning.

  Last night at dinner, her father again talked about fleeing the country, but now, even that avenue of escape was blocked. The word had spread. Their elegant house on Grosvenor and their movements were being closely watched. Years of debts and unpaid promissory notes could no longer be ignored. Debt collectors waited on the street, much like a pack of drooling hounds around the harried prey.

  Her formerly eager suitors broke off their siege of the front door and scattered at the sight of the unsavory types now lounging against the iron fence that surrounded the green. Watching the debt collectors watching her, Cassandra could see no other way out. She would have to go through with the marriage, pay the price of her physical self, or see her father taken off to prison.

  As for herself and her mother, they would be at the mercy of Lord and Lady Duncan, doomed to the ignominy of living off the charity of relatives, an endless string of years spent listening to Aunt Duncan’s badgering but well-intentioned tongue lashings and her mother’s vapors and headaches. Her mother would shed a few tears over her husband’s lamentable predicament but would wail long and loud for the loss of her clothes and position in society. Unless she secured a rich suitor, Cassandra felt sure she’d go mad imagining their possible futures.

  She moped for hours and cried until dry-eyed and resigned. The only thing gained from weeping was a pair of swollen eyes. She had to stop mourning her losses, which were too great to accept all at once. Her father would be sent to debtors’ prison if she didn’t take up the reins of responsibility. It boiled down to one solution—marry a rich man to rescue her parents from financial ruin. She couldn’t stop thinking about it and knew she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t save them.

  Cassandra lifted her chin. “Well, Papa, what is it to be? Debtors prison or wedding shackles?”

  “Come and sit with me away from the window.”

  She placed her left hand in her father’s open palm and stood. Her height was such that she looked directly into his weary gaze.

  He slipped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the sofa by the unlit fireplace. Without credit or money, the coal bin didn’t get refilled and the reason why her maid laid out the soft wool dress.

  Cassandra sat and examined her father’s expression, noting again the signs of aging. In the brightly lit room, his wavy hair gleamed with silver strands that hadn’t been so apparent as recently. Even though his posture remained proud and composed, she could see the results of their ordeal.

  Good breeding and lineage were all very nice and helpful to one’s social aspirations, but without money, the ton would act sympathetic on the surface or frigidly polite. In private, they would sneer and feast on the Seyton family downfall. The thought made every muscle in her body feel tight enough to snap.

  She waited in frustrated silence for him to speak, determined to accept what he would tell her with equanimity and grace. After all, she’d always known that it would eventually come to this—her outward appearance up for auction.

  “It is done, my dear.”

  “I see. What name shall I have, Papa?”

  “Fallone. Unfortunately, he’s much younger than I expected, only nineteen. I had thought that a parti in his thirties with some experience of the world would suit you best, but Mr. Fallone is quite mature for his years.”

  “He’s willing to cover all of our debts?”

  “That is where the difficulty lies. Mr. Fallone is not in control of his fortune, which is vast. He is of the other side of the blanket—the issue of nobility, and unable to claim paternity.”

  “I understand.”

  “Will his illegitimacy bother you, my dear?”

  “Not at all,” she replied and meant it. She was in no position to quibble and had faults and failings aplenty.

  “I thought not. After Fallone’s natural father died, his mother was left without income and forced to marry. The stepfather, one Percy Beason, was made guardian to protect the child’s interest until he reached his majority. Fallone has his own competence, but to pay off our debts, he must apply to Beason for a loan against his inheritance.”

  “A loan to pay off other loans and debts? This is beginning to sound complicated. Couldn’t you have selected someone in control of his fortune?”

  “There was a great deal to take into consideration, child. And we have few alternatives. There aren’t many eligible gentlemen willing to cover my debts. Relief is required immediately, as you can see by the henchmen lurking out on the square. Most importantly, Fallone is a gentleman.”

  “I thought you were ill-disposed toward him because of the guardian.”


  “It’s true that Beason is not the sort I would actively draw into my company, but that should be no reflection on his ward. You will like Fallone, and he will take good care of you—factors that weighed heavily in his favor.”

  “How awkward this is! I wish I could remember him.”

  “I’m sure you will when you see him. He has promised to do everything in his power to secure your attentions and good will. He also said that you have the approval of his guardian, who has seen you. I don’t know where or when that might’ve been, but having seen you, Mr. Beason heartily approves of a match.”

  An ominous prickle of apprehension slithered along her flesh. She discounted it, knowing the time had passed for backing out. “You’re saying that the funds will be made to you without delay? Before the marriage?”

  “According to Mr. Fallone, his guardian’s man of business has been instructed to cancel my most pressing encumbrances as quickly as it may be accomplished. Beason suggested that I should be immediately alleviated of as much stress as possible.”

  “How extraordinary!”

  “My dear, I must tell you that I was most appreciative of Mr. Fallone’s tact when he asked for my vowels. He was all that was kind and not a bit patronizing or condemning, an altogether charming young man! He is so very conscientious and quite determined to make you happy. I trust he will do so. And he has been the most persistent of all of your suitors, steadfast and refusing to give up hope. He was so overjoyed by this match that I hadn’t the heart to tell him you had no recollection of him.”

  “I’m glad that you did not!” She felt a frown wrinkle her brow. “How curious that I don’t recall so determined an individual.”

  “He’s not forthcoming or the least pretentious. He mentioned that he was introduced to you at Sally Jersey’s, and we know the sort of squash and squeeze affairs she enjoys.”

  “Did you ask Lady Jersey about Mr. Fallone?”

  “She spoke highly of him, although she knew nothing of the guardian. You’re positive you don’t recall Fallone?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. I wonder when I might’ve been introduced to the guardian. I’ve no recollection of Mr. Beason’s name, and you know how fond I am of the elderly.”

  “Fallone said his guardian has only seen you. He’s never been made known to you and seeks an immediate introduction. Fallone suggested tomorrow.”

  “Very well. I’m relieved a decision has been reached.”

  “Most definitely. Beason is a man who likes things done quickly, it seems. He’s sent an announcement to the papers, which will appear in tomorrow’s editions. He asks that the ceremony be held as soon as possible.”

  Astonished, Cassandra asked, “But why the unseemly haste? I see no reason to move so quickly.”

  “I asked the very same question. Fallone explained that for his part he hadn’t expected you to wed so precipitately. He was concerned that you were provided ample time to feel comfortable in his company, but his guardian, due to pressing business obligations, wishes to have all of this settled before he must leave the city. Beason’s made an immediate ceremony a specific condition of the settlements, which are extremely generous.”

  The notion of something out of kilter and beyond her ken intensified. The more frightening fear for her father and the relief that a decision had been made overwhelmed a whispered inner warning. She worked to erase the strain from her voice, to sound pleasantly surprised, and asked, “The debts will be completely cleared?”

  “Much more than that. Fallone assured me that his guardian will settle on you, upon his death, half of his estate. The interest alone is worth thousands! Your mother and I shall have an allowance for life. And he has made inquiries as to the purchasing of Tamer Hall as a wedding present.”

  She latched on to this wonderful bit of heartening news. At least she would have her home restored. “This is so much more than we ever dreamed. Mr. Beason must be extremely fond of his ward to go to all this trouble.”

  He smiled and bowed his head but not before she noticed the shadow within his gaze. “One cannot help but admire and respond to a young man like Fallone.”

  “Papa, all of this is very fine, and indeed, quite wonderful, but I sense that something troubles you.”

  “I can’t precisely explain. Just an odd notion.” He discarded what he was about to confide and turned to her with a warm, appreciative smile, his former esprit evident once again. “I’m no doubt worrying unnecessarily, very much a fatherly crotchet, don’t you think?”

  She reached across the space between them to take his hand. “Please, do not worry so. If Mr. Fallone is all that you say he is, why, I know I shall be perfectly happy. I could not ask for more and promise to be a very good girl when Mr. Beason comes to visit. You know how I am when I set my mind to something! I shall do my possible to assure him that he is making a good match for his ward.”

  “We both know that they’re getting the best of this bargain.”

  When she attempted a carefree laugh, he flicked her nose with his finger and stood. “I must go to your mother. Now that all is settled, I shall tell her the whole. One would hope she might feel as ashamed as I to have landed us in this sordid predicament, but I doubt that she’ll ever accept the existence of her own faults.”

  “Papa, don’t be bitter. All has turned out splendidly. Now you and Mama can go on holiday whenever you wish, and we’ll all live happily ever after.”

  He sadly smiled and kissed her brow. Cassandra watched the saloon door click shut and remembered how gay and charming he’d been before this disaster. He had changed drastically over the last weeks. Past errors and excesses he ignored with carefree abandon his entire life had finally caught up with him. His sins had come home to roost with a vengeance and the burden of reality was entirely unfamiliar.

  Cassandra wished she were more like her parents and weak in character. If that were true, she wouldn’t have been able to accept this suspiciously hasty marriage. She could discard self-respect and go to her doting Uncle Duncan. If she had less pride, she could ask him to settle the most pressing of the debts, but it wasn’t in her character to beg.

  Perhaps her father had already been turned away by her uncle. Lord Duncan refused to tolerate profligacy, but he wasn’t aware of his favorite niece being used to rectify the family’s financial problems.

  Cassandra heaved a sigh. When Uncle Duncan learned of the cobbled-up affair, he’d throw a red-faced, screaming tantrum, but that would be nothing compared to Aunt Duncan’s reaction. Heads would roll.

  “Miss Cassy!”

  Cassandra looked up. “Tessa, you startled me!”

  Her friend and maid glared down at her, hands on hips and creamy, country-girl cheeks ruddy with emotion. Cassandra again mused that Joan Tessart had been born with too much confidence for a coachman’s daughter. Then and now, they ignored constant admonishments about the improper association of a servant’s child and the daughter of the manor. The only way to preserve their friendship had been for Tessa to become her personal maid, which became a game as much as a solution. For as much as they argued, Cassandra couldn’t imagine life without the feisty Tessa and turned the blast of her temper on anyone who tried to separate them.

  “Miss Cassy, I’ve been waiting on you for nearly an hour, and here you sit, with no thought of the time or of inconveniencing poor, abused servants, such as myself.”

  “Oh, yes, our walk. I’d forgotten.”

  “That much is obvious!”

  “Papa wanted to speak with me,” she murmured, still caught up in her previous thoughts. When she stood, she noticed the pamphlet still crushed in her hand. She discarded it and what was left of her dreams on a side table. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  “Well, I never! All I can say is that some of us have better manners than to make other people miserable with their inconsiderate habits.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Tessa, and hand me my things. You’ve gotten positively overbearing since coming to town. Enti
rely too full of yourself. You’d best be careful you don’t get so puffed up you explode.”

  As usual, Tessa showed no discomfort over Cassandra’s rude tone. She handed over gloves, shawl and crocheted reticule and wasn’t gentle in her ministrations as she arranged the hat and tied the ribbons just so. Cassandra stood oblivious to her maid’s pique.

  They left the saloon, went out the front door and into the sunshine. A moneylender’s henchman dared to approach them as they stepped into the street. A glare from Cassandra sent him scuttling backward. The debt-fetcher resumed his former position on the street corner to wait for the father.

  Tessa had to almost run to keep pace with Cassandra’s angry stride. The petite maid puffed and held her side when they stopped at the curb, where they waited for a break in traffic to cross the street and walk the remaining distance to the park.

  “Well?” Perspiration gleamed on Tessa’s flushed cheeks. She elbowed Cassandra in the ribs when she didn’t immediately answer.

  “Well, what?” Cassandra snapped, stepping out into the street.

  “Have you gone and let them put your head on the chopping block?”

  “Do not be an added irritation to me today, Tessa.”

  “Then would you mind slowing down? This was supposed to be a walk, not a footrace.”

  Cassandra glanced at Tessa’s scarlet complexion and heaving chest. She relented and slowed. “I’m extremely vexed. Strenuous exercise is required to steady my nerves.”

  “Hah! You haven’t a nerve in your entire body. And you’ve got every right to be mad as fire. If I was you, I’d be hanging from the chimney pots. What a nasty muddle. How could they expect you to sell your good self for their selfish mistakes?”

  Cassandra lifted her nose and unclamped her clenched teeth. “They expect it, and I’m going to do it.”

  Tessa stopped, horrified and disbelieving. “Miss Cassy, you can’t mean it!”

  “Oh, do come along, Tessa, and stop bullying me. I can do what I bloody well please, and you’ve nothing to say in the matter.”