“Helena!” I yelled, trying to get her attention. She seemed oblivious to me.
Several other women in the street yelled oaths and profanities at the men as I pried the stone from Maggie’s fingers. They continued to stone the club members, most of whom had taken refuge within the safety of the building. Two of the men stormed out into the street with the intent of stopping the attack. As I straightened painfully, a stone whistled past my ear and struck a man as he approached.
Maggie kicked out at my leg just then, and I went down painfully on top of her. My fall seemed to knock the wind out of her for she stopped struggling and lay inert, gasping for air. As soon as I was able to stand, I ran forward to help the injured man up off the street.
“Are you all right, sir? Let me help you—” my voice died as the man looked up. “Oh, my…Lord Sherringham.”
A shadow fell over me as I tried, despite his incoherent sputtering, to help him up. I stepped back and bumped into a large, hard object.
“I beg your pardon,” I said automatically, stepping around the object. A hand descended upon my shoulder and spun me around to face Griffin.
“Is this the sort of activity you champion, Miss Whitney? The stoning of men has a biblical quality, I grant you, but it is not one I would’ve believed you to condone.”
“No—of course not—” I stammered, at a loss for an explanation. “I do not condone it…in fact, I was trying to stop the women from throwing any more—”
Griffin looked down at my hand which still held the stone I had wrestled from Maggie, then up at me with an eyebrow raised quizzically. “Do you often find it necessary to carry a large rock with you?”
I flushed, knowing full well I would never be able to explain the events. The thought crossed my mind that someone, somewhere was having a good deal of fun at my expense. “Yes, Mr. St. John, I often do carry a large rock around with me. I find it comes in handy when I am called upon to knock someone silly with it. Perhaps another time I can demonstrate the technique for you.”
A flash of blue to the left caught my eye. I groaned and turned on my heel as two constables rushed up. Having executed their plan with brutal success, the militants had scattered when they’d heard the sound of the bobbies’ whistles. I walked rapidly across the street to where Helena was standing, her arms limp at her sides, her mouth forming an “Oh!” as she watched Lord Sherringham assisted back into the club.
“Helena? Don’t worry, I’m sure your brother is all right. I suggest you go home and wait for him there.”
She didn’t move, but went a shade paler. I put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Helena?”
“Oh, Cassandra,” she wailed suddenly, flinging herself on me. “What have I done? Why didn’t I heed your warning? I could have killed Harold with that stone! How could I have done it?”
I felt Griffin’s presence behind me. I was confident he would shield Helena from the wrath of the police, but knew he wouldn’t go to any trouble to keep me from being arrested. Not even the fact that we had shared a very pleasing kiss would be enough to excuse what he believed to be my latest folly.
Helena suddenly noticed the policemen arriving in large numbers. She gave a gigantic gulp and looked like a scared rabbit. “What—what will they do with me?”
“Nothing, if you leave now. I’m sure your brother will tell them you had nothing to do with any of it.”
Helena was plainly terrified at the results of her violent actions. I was pleased by that for a moment, and then without warning, I was furious. I spun around and faced Griffin, angry at the circumstance that I found myself in, angry that he would never believe my innocence given the evidence against me, and angrier still that I had not been able to keep Helena out of trouble and shield her from the baser side of life.
“Just so you know—what Helena did was not her fault. She was under the influence of an extremely persuasive person, and if you say one word of criticism to this poor girl, I will take great pleasure in doing you a bodily harm, no matter what effect it might have regarding your candidacy for position of lover.”
One of the bobbies, seeing me wave the stone at Griffin, ran over to where we were standing and placed a restraining hand on my arm. “Now then, no more of that, miss. You’ll have to come with me, you and the other lady.”
“I will do nothing of the kind,” I said primly, ignoring the stunned look on Griffin’s face. “I have committed no crime, and do not have the time to spend discussing the issue with you.”
He tightened his grip and would, I believe, have forced me to accompany him had Griffin not regained his wits and stepped in.
“You are mistaken, Constable,” he said. “This lady and the other were simply passing down the street and attempted to stop the attacks.”
Helena and I looked at one another, she with terror written plainly on her face, and me with astonishment at Griffin’s action.
“Is that so?” the constable asked, clearing harboring some suspicion.
He looked from my stone to Helena’s sign.
“Er...she just picked that up,” I said, pointing to the sign.
She squeaked and dropped it.
“And that?” the constable asked, nodding at the rock in my hand.
“She took it from one of the women,” Griffin said. “I saw her do so.”
“Did she now. And yet this lady looks as if she’s been fighting,” the policemen told him, eying me dubiously.
“You can’t take a rock from a woman bent on stoning people without some sort of a struggle,” I said a righteous snort.
It took another five minutes of Griffin waxing eloquent before the policemen finally accepted our stories.
“I’ll be taking your names as witnesses,” the bobbie warned, doing just that. “I’d advise you to be on your way, and stay away from any such disturbances in the future.”
He moved off to join his colleague, and we were left staring at one another. Feeling there was nothing more to be said, I squeezed Helena’s arm reassuringly as Griffin handed her into his motorcar.
“I will take you home,” he said to me. “I can come back for Sherry afterward.”
“That’s not at all necessary. Your brother should probably see a doctor as soon as possible. I’ll take a cab.”
“Stay here,” he told Helena, and escorted me down the street to the nearest available cab.
The silence hung heavily over me for a good two minutes before I broke it. “Thank you for what you did back there. I know it must have gone against your wishes to protect me as well as Helena, but I do appreciate it.”
“I just hope you both learned something from it,” he muttered, seemingly distracted. It wasn’t until another few minutes passed that he found a cab, and handed me into it. He leaned in, the oddest expression on his face. “Er...what you said a few minutes ago—”
“That I was sorry you had to protect me?”
“No, not that.”
Chagrin flashed across his face as he ran a distracted hand through his hair
“What then?” I asked, desperately fighting the urge to kiss him.
“What you said after that. You said something about being your lover.” His eyes were softly luminescent, warm pools of amber that snared me with no difficulty at all.
“Oh. That.”Beneath my chemise, my nipples hardened. They’d never done that before, not in response to a man’s look, but it certainly was Griffin leaning in the cab that had them behaving in such a distracting manner. No doubt it was also his presence that left me short of breath, my heart pounding uncomfortably, my skin suddenly extremely sensitive. I licked the small cut on the corner of my lip. Griffin’s gaze pounced on the movement. “Yes. I…I feel that we have a certain….affinity despite our differences, and wondered…er...”
He dragged his gaze back to my eyes. Oddly enough, he looked as bemused as I felt. I decided it was the lack of oxygen to my brain that was making him appear so. Men of the world like Griffin did not bemuse easily
. “Yes?”
“Well…it was an idea I had…” I said, distracted by his nearness. “I wondered if you had ever thought about the idea…if you’d ever considered the possibility…you seemed to like kissing me, you see, and I enjoyed it very much, and I thought…”
“What did you think, Cassandra?” he asked, brushing his thumb along my lower lip.
“I thought you might want to do it again,” I said, my mind giving up the battle.
He leaned forward and gently caressed my lips with his. Heat pooled inside me, deep within me, radiating outward in waves of anticipation. “Say it.”
“Would you consider filling the position of my lover?” I asked.
“No, say what you really want.”
“Oh, I really want that,” I said earnestly.
He laughed, and kissed me again. “Tell me what you want.”
“You. I want you.”
His tongue touched the bruised corner of my mouth before sliding between my lips. I was shocked and surprised and thrilled all at once, my brain and body reeling at the intimate touch of his tongue against mine.
“Yes,” he said finally, after he stole away my breath.
“Yes?” I asked, befuddled to the point of incomprehension.
“Yes, I will become your lover.”
“Oh, thank you.” I couldn’t keep from smiling, relief filling me. “I was so worried about asking you, but it really wasn’t as bad as I thought. And I believe having you as a lover will be very nice.”
He gave me a look that sent my entire body tingling, his amber eyes filled with a passionate promise that had my heart speeding up. “It will be much, much more than nice, Cassandra.”
The door to the cab closed, and I sank back against the cushions, whooshing out a breath that I didn’t remember holding. It was only when I arrived at home that I noticed I still carried the stone.
Chapter Twelve
“Only foolish women pout,” I told Annie that night as I was dressing for the opera. She artfully twisted my hair into a semblance of the latest fashion. “Just because he didn’t say when things will commence doesn’t mean I should feel abused. Right?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Annie mumbled, her mouth full of hairpins as she tucked a recalcitrant curl back into place.
I lifted my chin and gave her a serene look. “As you know, I am an independent, modern New Woman. I have thus chosen a man to be my lover.”
Annie’s jaw dropped, the hairpins scattering all over the carpet. “You, miss?”
“Yes.” I tried to look nonchalant about the whole thing, as if taking a lover was a trivial act, one I did every day.
“Would that be Mr. St. John?” she asked, her eyes round as she hurriedly gathered up the hairpins.
“As a matter of fact, yes, he is the man I have chosen for that position.”
Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Oh, well, then, if he’s the one, that’s all right.”
I frowned. “What do you mean if he’s the one?”
“Well, he’s a gentleman, isn’t he?” She finished with my hair and gestured for me to stand.
I did so, and she eyed my dress, looking for anything that needed adjustment. “Yes, but any man I chose to be my lover would be a gentleman.”
“There’s gentlemen, and then there’s gentlemen,” she said sagely, tugging at a sleeve. “Mr. St. John is a proper gentleman. He won’t see you hurt.”
“I am a grown woman, Annie. You are feeling vulnerable at the moment because of your situation, but I assure you that I will not allow myself to be so burdened unless I desire it.”
“You won’t?” She looked like she wanted to smile but didn’t dare.
“No. I have it on the best authority that there are ways to prevent such things. I will no doubt discuss the matter with Mr. St. John, and we will come to an understanding.”
A slight noise escaped her, something sounding remarkably like a titter. “I’m sure you will. That’s done, I think.”
I looked into the mirror and was pleased by the dress and Annie’s skill. I have no pretensions to any beauty, but the sapphire blue satin gown, with its accompanying midnight blue gauze tunic studded with crystals, set off my red hair well, and made my skin look paler than it really was.
Grimacing only slightly at my freckles, I took one last unsure look at the low neckline of the dress, gathered up my bag and velvet coat, thanked Annie for her work and ordered her to bed before departing for my aunt’s house.
Uncle Henry was in the sitting room when I arrived, and since he had the skill of making one feel specially chosen to receive his undivided attention, a conversation with him was always an enjoyable event.
“Cassandra, my dear,” he stood to greet me, his shock of white hair as unruly as ever. He held out his hands. “How lovely you look in that blue gown. Could it be that you’ve grown even prettier since we last met?”
“None of that, Uncle Henry,” I said, kissing him on his freshly-shaven cheek. “You are looking particularly handsome this evening. Tell me, how did you find Boston?”
He huffed into his mustache, as white as his hair. “Your hands are like ice, my dear. Sit here, next to the fire. Boston was the same as it always is—full of Americans. Speaking of visitors, when do you expect your sister and her family?”
“I had a letter from them yesterday—they were leaving Cape Town the following day, so I expect they should arrive at the end of the week.”
“Ah, good.”
“Uncle Henry, have you been invited to the St. Alban’s masquerade ball?”
He stood as my aunt came into the room, regal in rose velvet and lace. She touched the diamond dog collar at her throat and murmured, “My dear, the gown is lovely, but that neckline—are you sure it isn’t too low?”
I assured her it was the latest fashion, but remained very conscious of my exposed bosom for the rest of the evening. It was not an entirely unpleasant feeling.
“Yes, my dear, we have, but Caroline was not sure she wanted to attend.”
“Attend what, my dear? Oh, Consuelo’s costume ball. I thought we had quite decided against it. Why do you ask, Cassandra—have you been invited as well?”
“Yes,” I said slowly, not wanting my aunt to see my eagerness. “But without Mabel and Joshua, I have no one to act as escort. Freddy is…well, I would prefer not to attend with him. He would just propose every five minutes. I thought I would go with you, but if you do not plan to attend—”
“Nonsense. We’d be delighted to take you!” Henry took my arm. “I can’t think of anything we would enjoy more, can you Caroline?”
“Quite a few things, my dear, but I am content to escort Cassandra.”
“There, that’s all decided,” Henry said. “I warn you though, I shall embarrass you both by refusing to wear a costume.”
“A costume,” my aunt said dreamily. “I see something in lace…but three days doesn’t give me much time.”
Henry sighed in an exaggerated manner, winking at me as he did so. “Later, Caroline. First I must get you both to the opera on time, where I shall be the envy of all who see me with two such lovely belles on my arms.”
The opera house was dazzling with flashing jewels, the shiny silks and satins of the ladies’ gowns, and the brilliance of starched white against the black of the gentlemen’s evening clothes. I was halfway up the grand staircase, speaking with an old friend of my father’s, when my aunt jostled my arm. “Isn’t that Lord and Lady Sherringham by the door?”
I turned quickly and scanned the crowd. Just coming in the door, Lord Sherringham was laughing jovially with a white-haired man in a military uniform.
“Yes, I believe it is.” Watching out of the corner of my eye, my entire body felt electrified when I saw the entire family was present—Lady Sherringham in a horrible orange chiffon gown, Helena appearing worried in pale mauve, and Griffin looking devastatingly handsome in evening clothes.
Pressure from behind forced me to cont
inue the slow ascent to the top of the stairs. Fighting my way to my aunt’s side, I asked quietly, “Did you know they were attending tonight? Is that why you invited me?”
“My dear, of course not! Henry thought you would enjoy the opera since you are alone and Mabel is not due home for a few more days. I had no idea the Sherringhams would be in attendance.” Her eyes wandered over the crowd as she spoke. I could never detect my aunt in a lie, so I cannot say for certain that she was telling an untruth, but I suspected some duplicity in the matter.
My uncle’s box was situated next to the last on the left side of the theater, offering a good view of both the stage and audience. I turned my chair away slightly from the stage so as to have a view of the audience, pretending to read the program, all the while trying to calm myself so I felt less like I was being eaten alive by fire ants. Caroline ignored me as I continued my subtle scan of the people streaming in. Before long, the opening refrains of the overture quieted conversation somewhat, and resignedly I turned to face the stage.
Directly to my left were the Sherringhams. Helena sat closest to me, talking to someone over her left shoulder. Lady Sherringham sat next to her in the front, and I could see the stout form of Lord Sherringham behind her, in muffled conversation. Etiquette would not allow me to turn around and stare into their box, although I desperately wanted to.
The opera was lost on me; I spent the time in impure thoughts so scandalous that when the intermission brought the house lights up, I was left suddenly feeling exposed and turned toward my aunt for security.
Henry stood just outside of the box talking to two of his colleagues. Caroline patted my hand sympathetically, then leaned toward the other side of the box to speak with her neighbor on the right.
“My dear,” Henry said just as I was going to greet Helena, “I believe you know this gentleman. He was most desirous of having a few words with you.”
Griffin stepped forward and offered his hand. My body cheered in response.