Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption: Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

‘Oh, this is so sad, to think of the family driven out of their home.’

‘It was no more than they deserved, if they oppressed those dependent upon them.’

‘But you do not know that they did,’ she reasoned. ‘In England we heard many tales of innocent families being forced to flee for their lives.’

‘What else would you expect them to say? They would hardly admit that they lived in luxury while people were starving.’

‘No doubt you believe it was right to send so many men and women to the guillotine, merely because of their birth.’

‘Of course not. But I do not believe a man’s birth gives him the right to rule others. Aristocrats like yourself are brought up to believe you belong to a superior race and the English are the very worst!’

Cassie smiled. ‘You will not expect me to agree with you on that, monsieur.’ She looked around her once again. ‘But while I admit there are good and bad people in the world, I cannot believe that all France’s great families were bad landlords. Some will have fled because there was no reasoning with a powerful mob.’

‘But before that the king and his court were too powerful, and would not listen to reason,’ Raoul argued.

‘Perhaps.’ She walked to the centre of the room and turned around slowly, looking about her. ‘I grew up in rooms very like this. A large, cold mansion, far too big to be comfortable. I much prefer Grandmama’s house in Royal Crescent. That is in Bath,’ she explained.

‘I have heard of it,’ he said. ‘It has the hot baths, does it not?’

‘Yes. Many elderly and sick people go there to take the waters.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘And many wealthy people who think they are sick enjoy living there, too, and pay high prices for dubious treatments. The doctors of Bath have grown fat giving out pills and placebos to the rich and privileged. It is not as fashionable as it once was, but it is still very pleasant with its concerts, and balls and the theatre, and all one’s friends in such close proximity. I lived there very happily with Grandmama until...’

‘Until you met your husband?’

‘Yes. I have not seen Bath for nearly eighteen months.’

‘You must have had the very great love to elope with this man,’ he said. ‘To give up your family and friends, everything you knew.’

He saw a shadow flicker across her eyes before she turned away from him.

‘Yes.’

Cassie hurried across the room, giving Raoul no time to question her further. A very great love? It had been a very great foolishness. She had ignored Grandmama’s warnings and thrown her cap over the windmill. She had been in love with Gerald then. Or at least, she had thought herself in love, but the last few months had brought her nothing but pain and disillusion. She had learned that love could not make one happy, it was merely a device used by men to delude poor, foolish females. She had witnessed it often enough in Verdun, especially amongst Gerald’s friends. A gentleman would profess himself hopelessly in love, then as soon as he had seduced the object of his affection the passion would fade and he would move on to another lover. A salutary lesson and one she would never forget.

Pushing aside the unwelcome thoughts, Cassie grasped the handles of the double doors and threw them wide, drawing in a sharp breath at the sight of the once-magnificent ballroom before her. ‘Oh, how wonderful it must have been to dance in a room such as this!’

She wandered into the cavernous space. The walls were pale primrose with huge blocks of darker yellow where large paintings had once hung. Between the windows were gilded mirror frames, the glass shattered and glittering on the floor. At each end of the room four Italian-marble pillars rose up and supported a ceiling that was decorated with a glorious scene of cherubs playing hide-and-seek amongst white clouds.

‘Oh, how I loved to dance,’ she murmured wistfully. ‘Grandmama took me to so many assemblies in Bath and it is one of the things I have missed most since my marriage. Gerald never took me to balls.’

A wave of unhappiness washed over her, so suddenly that it took her by surprise. She pressed her clasped hands to her chest and was obliged to bite her lip to hold back a sob. It had been a shock to discover so recently that her husband had escorted plenty of other ladies to balls in Verdun. She was a fool to let it upset her now. Gerald could never resist a pretty woman. In the end that had been his downfall.

Raoul watched as sadness clouded her face and suddenly he was overwhelmed with the need to drive the unhappiness from her eyes. He stepped closer, saying recklessly,

‘Then let us dance now.’

She frowned at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I say we should dance.’

She laughed as he plucked the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it aside.

‘But we have no music, monsieur.’

‘I will sing for us.’ He took her hand. ‘What shall it be, the Allemande?’

He started to hum a lively tune and bowed. Cassie looked a little bemused, but she followed his lead, singing along quietly as she twisted beneath his arm and stretched up to let him turn beneath hers. By the time they performed the rosette, holding both hands and twirling at the same time, she was giggling too much to sing. Raoul persevered, leading her through the dance steps again. He felt inordinately pleased that he had put that troubled look to flight and as they skipped and stepped and twirled about his imagination took flight.

They were no longer dancing in a derelict house, but in a glittering ballroom with the most accomplished musicians playing for them. The music soared in his head and he imagined them both dressed in their finery. He could almost feel the shirt of finest linen against his skin, the starched folds of the neckcloth with a single diamond nestling at his throat. And instead of that poor yellow muslin, Cassie was wearing a ball gown of silk with diamonds glittering against her skin, although nothing could outshine the glow of her eyes as she looked up at him. When they performed the final rosette and ended, hands locked, she was laughing up at Raoul in a way that made his heart leap into his throat, stopping his breath.

Time stopped, too, as their eyes met. Raoul had felt this same connection between them before, but this time it was stronger, like a thread drawing them together. He watched the laughter die from those violet-blue eyes, replaced by a softer, warmer look that melted his heart and set his pulse racing even faster. His heart was pounding so hard that he felt light-headed and quite unsteady. His grip on her hands tightened. Those cherry-red lips were only inches away, inviting his kiss.

Cassie’s heart was beating so heavily that it was difficult to breathe. Raoul was standing before her, holding her hands, filling her senses. He was all she could see, his ragged breathing the only sound she heard. She was swathed in his powerful presence and it felt wonderful.

Kiss me.

She read it in his eyes. An order, a plea that went straight to her heart and filled her soul. She clung to his hands, trembling. She desperately wanted to close the gap between them and step into his arms, but above the excitement and exhilaration that filled her an alarm bell clamoured, faint but insistent. She knew there would be no going back if she gave in now. Raoul would take her, consume her, and she would be lost. It was a perilous situation; she was a widow, alone in an enemy country.

Strange, that this foolish, impromptu dance had so quickly driven all her troubles from her mind, but now that alarm bell could not be ignored. It was not just the physical perils that threatened her. She had thought Gerald had broken her heart, but now some instinct told her that if she gave herself to Raoul the parting would be much, much worse. That thought frightened her more than all the rest and made her fight for control.

She dragged up a laugh. ‘Well, that has surprised me.’

Clearly not a gentleman!

Those scornful words echoed in Raoul’s brain, reminding him of the gulf between them. He dropped her hands and moved away, allowing his indignation to turn into anger. It was necessary, if he was to combat this attraction that could only end in disaster. He should be pleased she was in no danger of falling in love with him. He had no room for a woman in his life and he would not want her broken heart on his conscience.

‘Yes, you considered me a savage, did you not?’ he threw at her. ‘Because I have not lived in your exalted circles. Whatever you might think of me, madame, my birth is respectable even if I was not born into the nobility. We moved amongst the first families of Brussels. My father was a doctor, a gentleman. It was I who let him down; I was determined to become a surgeon, despite the fact that many still regard them as mere tradesmen.’ He turned his finger, stabbing angrily into the air. ‘That is where the future lies, in a man’s skill and knowledge, not in his birth. But you and your kind do not recognise that yet. My father never recognised it, either. He was disappointed; he had such high hopes of me.’

Cassie saw the fire in his eyes and heard the bitterness behind his harsh words, but she knew his anger was not directed at her. He had misunderstood her, but in his present mood it would be useless to try and explain so she made no attempt to correct him.

She said carefully, ‘Parents are always ambitious for their children. At least, I believe that is the case. My own parents died when I was very young, but Grandmama always wanted the best for me. It must have grieved her most dreadfully when I eloped.’ She touched his arm, saying gently, ‘There must still be a little time before the farmer will bring our dinner. Shall we continue to explore?’

Raoul shrugged.

‘Why not?’ he said lightly. He scooped her shawl from the floor and laid it around her shoulders. She noted how carefully he avoided actually touching her. ‘Lead on, madame.’

The magical moment was broken, shattered like the ornate mirrors and tall windows. She felt the chill of disappointment and tried hard to be thankful that she had not weakened. A momentary lapse now would cost her dear.

The chateau had been stripped bare and they did not linger on the upper floors. Cassie pulled her shawl a little closer around her as the shadows lengthened and the chill of evening set in. She had been a child when the revolution in France had begun, only ten years old when King Louis had been murdered. It had been the talk of English drawing rooms and inevitably the news had reached the schoolroom, too. She had listened to the stories, but only now, standing in this sad shell of a house, did she have any conception of the hate and fear that must have been rife in France. She could only be thankful that such a bloody revolution had not occurred in England.

‘It grows dark,’ said Raoul. ‘We should go down and look out for our host.’

Cassie readily agreed. The stairs were in semi-darkness and when Raoul reached for her hand she did not pull away. She told herself it was merely a precaution, lest she trip in the dim light, but there was no mistaking the comfort she gained from his warm grasp. They heard the farmer’s deep voice bellowing from somewhere in the lower regions of the house and as they reached the hall he emerged from the basement stairs.

‘So there you are,’ he greeted them. ‘We’ve put your dinner in the kitchen and my boy is lighting a fire there now. You’ll find ’tis the most comfortable room, the windows are intact and there’s a table, too.’

They followed him down to the servants’ quarters and through a maze of dark corridors until they reached the kitchen. It was a large chamber, but a cheerful fire burned in the huge fireplace and numerous candles had been placed about the room to provide light. A plump woman with a spotless apron tied over her cambric gown was setting out their dinner on the scrubbed wooden table and the farmer introduced her as his wife. She looked up and fixed her sharp black eyes upon Raoul and Cassie. It was a blatantly curious stare and not a little scornful. Cassie’s head lifted and haughty words rose to her lips, but she fought them down. She had no wish to antagonise the woman, so she smiled and tried to speak pleasantly.

‘It is very good of you to let us stay here tonight.’

The woman relaxed slightly.

‘Eh bien, your money’s good and I suppose you will prefer this to sharing a bedchamber with the animals. The boy’ll be over with a couple of sacks of straw later and he’ll collect the dishes, too.’ She pointed to a small door in the corner of the room. ‘There’s a water pump in the scullery. It still works, if you need it.’

‘Thank you.’

The woman moved towards the door.

‘We will leave you, then.’ She gave a reluctant curtsy and followed her husband out into the dusk.

‘We should eat.’ Raoul indicated the bench.

They sat together and Cassie was relieved that there would be no awkward glances across the table. In fact, there was no need to look at him at all. They were facing the fireplace, where the fire crackled merrily and they could eat their meal in companionable silence. But it was not companionable, it pressed around her, pricking at her conscience and making her uneasy. At last she was unable to bear it any longer and had to speak, however inane her conversation.

‘This is where they would have cooked the food,’ she said at last, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames.

‘Yes.’ Raoul reached across to pick up the wine flask and poured more into their glasses. ‘The turning-spit mechanism and all the cooking irons have been plundered. No doubt they have found a home elsewhere, or been melted down and turned into farm tools.’

Cassie picked up her wine glass and turned it this way and that, so that the crystal glinted and sparkled in the candlelight.

‘These are very fine, perhaps the owners of this house used to drink from them.’

‘And now they are being used by their tenants,’ remarked Raoul coolly. ‘It is merely a redistribution of wealth.’

Her chin went up a little and she turned to regard him. ‘Something you heartily approve.’

Raoul met her eyes steadily. ‘I have never approved of violence, Lady Cassandra. It is my calling to save lives, not take them.’

She turned her gaze back to the fireplace, knowing she did not wish to fight him tonight.

‘So they cooked on an open fire. How old-fashioned,’ she murmured, thinking of the closed range in Grandmama’s house in Bath.

‘There might well have been a dozen or more servants in here,’ Raoul replied. ‘Slaving to provide meals for their masters.’

‘Not necessarily slaving,’ Cassie demurred. ‘In Bath my grandmother was at pains to provide the very best equipment for her cook. She said he is a positive tyrant.’

‘Yet she has the power to dismiss him on a whim.’

Cassie shook her head, smiling a little. ‘You are wrong, sir. The man is very aware of his own worth and paid well for his skills, I assure you. He also is the one with the power to hire or dismiss his staff as he wishes.’ Her smile grew. ‘And before you berate me again for the inequality of English society, I would tell you, monsieur, that the cook is a Frenchman.’

He grinned, acknowledging the hit.

‘Very well, I will admit that it is in most men’s nature to be a tyrant if they are not checked.’ He turned slightly and raised his glass to her. ‘A truce, Lady Cassandra?’

She returned his salute. ‘A truce, Monsieur Doulevant.’

They returned their attention to the food, but the atmosphere had changed. Cassie no longer felt at odds with her companion and she was a great deal happier.

A basket of logs had been placed near the fireplace, but the size of the hearth was such that it was soon emptied and by the time the farmer’s boy brought over their bedding and carried away the empty dishes the room was growing chilly.

‘We should get some sleep,’ said Raoul. ‘We will have another busy day tomorrow.’

There were two sacks of straw. Raoul placed one on either side of the kitchen table and handed Cassie one of the two blankets that had been provided.

‘Your bed awaits, my lady.’

She tried to make herself comfortable, but the sack was not well filled and the straw flattened quickly beneath her. She could not help a sigh that sounded very loud in the quiet, echoing kitchen.

‘Is it not luxurious enough for you, my lady?’

Tiredness made her irritable and she snapped back.

‘This is not what I expected when I left Verdun.’

‘I am surprised your husband agreed to your travelling alone.’

‘He did not agree. He’s—’

She bit off the words.

‘He what?’ Raoul asked suspiciously. ‘He does not know?’

‘That is true.’

It was not exactly a lie. Cassie knew it would sink her even further in his estimation, yet she was unwilling to admit she was a widow. She clung to the belief that there was some small protection in having a husband.

‘But of course. You told me yourself that you grew bored at Verdun. Tiens, I feel even more sympathy for your spouse, madame. You have quite literally abandoned him, have you not?’

The darkness was filled with his disapproval. It cut her and she responded by saying sharply, ‘That is not your concern.’

‘No indeed. Mon Dieu, but you are a heartless woman!’

‘You know nothing about me!’

Tell him, Cassie. Explain how you remained with your husband, endured the pain and humiliation of knowing he only wanted your fortune.

Pride kept her silent. Better Raoul should think her heartless than a fool. She turned on her side and pulled the thin blanket a little closer around her. ‘Oh, how I pray there will be a ship in Rouen that will carry me all the way to England,’ she muttered angrily. ‘The sooner we can say goodbye to one another the better.’

He gave a bark of bitter laughter.

‘Amen to that, my lady!’

Chapter Five

It took the best part of the morning to repair the chaise. Discussions with the farmer elicited the information that their meandering route, chosen to minimise the chances of encountering soldiers on the road or passing an army garrison, meant that they were a good half-day’s drive away from Rouen and he doubted they would reach the city before nightfall, but Cassie was as anxious as Raoul to press on and echoed his refusal to remain another night.

She climbed into the chaise and watched Raoul scramble up on to the long-tailed bay. She was thankful he was not in the carriage with her, she did not enjoy travelling in the company of one who disapproved of her so blatantly. He saw her as a rich and spoiled lady who had run away from her marriage when the novelty had begun to pall. It would be useless to explain, because she knew that men saw these things differently. A wife was a mere chattel, was she not?

Cassie looked up as the chaise slowed. The road was winding its way between dilapidated cottages at the edge of a village. Through the window she watched Raoul exchange a few words with the postilion before bringing his horse alongside the carriage. Cassie let down the glass.

‘This is Flagey, it is very small and the post boy tells me there is a much better inn about an hour from here where we may change horses and dine,’ he informed her. ‘If we do not tarry he thinks we may still make Rouen tonight.’

‘Very well, let us push on. I—’ Cassie broke off as a loud rumble, like thunder, filled the air. It shook the ground and the carriage jolted as the horses sidled nervously. ‘What on earth was that?’

Raoul was already looking towards the cluster of buildings ahead of them. Above the roofs a cloud of dust was rising, grey as smoke. The bay threw up its head as the church bell began to toll.

‘An accident of some sort,’ he said, kicking his horse on. Cantering around the bend, he saw that a large building had collapsed on the far side of the village square. People were already congregating at the scene. Some of the women were wailing, a few holding crying babies, but most were helping the men to drag away the stones and rubble.

Raoul threw the horse’s reins to a woman with a babe in her arms and immediately ran forward to help, casting his jacket aside as he went.

‘How many men are in there?’ he demanded as he joined the rescuers.

One of the men stopped to drag a grimy sleeve across his brow.

‘Eight, ten, perhaps more. ’Tis the tithe barn. They were working to secure the roof before the winter when the timbers collapsed.’

Raoul joined the group, scrabbling at the wreckage. The dust was still rising from the debris, making everyone cough. It was clear that the roof had collapsed inwards, bringing down parts of the old walls. Muffled shouts and screams could be heard, so there were survivors, but Raoul knew they must reach them and quickly.

The first man they pulled out had a broken arm, but the next was badly crushed and groaning pitifully. An old woman standing beside Raoul crossed herself before trying to drag away another rotted timber. There would be more crushed bodies, more broken limbs.

‘You will need a doctor. Or better still, a surgeon.’

‘Dr Bonnaire is ten miles away, monsieur.’ The old woman took a moment to straighten up, pressing her hand to her back. She nodded to a group of young men working frantically to pull away more stones. ‘Jean can go, he is the fastest runner.’

‘Take the horse.’

Raoul heard Cassandra’s voice and turned to see her leading the bay forward.

She said again, ‘Take the horse. It will be much quicker to ride.’

‘Then let me go,’ said an older man, stepping up. ‘I can handle a horse and Jean’s strength would be better used getting those poor fellows out.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Raoul.

He watched the man mount up and gallop away, calculating how long it would take the doctor to get there.

‘What can I do?’ asked Cassandra.

‘Where is the carriage?’

‘I have told the post boy to drive to the auberge at the far end of the village. What may I do to help you?’

He regarded her as she stood before him. She was too petite to be of help moving the rubble; her hands were unused to any type of work at all. He was also afraid that they would be bringing bodies out soon and he did not want her to witness the carnage. He looked towards a group of women and children crying noisily as they watched the proceedings.

‘Get them away,’ he muttered. ‘They are doing no good here.’

‘Of course.’

She nodded and Raoul went back to the laborious process of dragging away the rubble stone by stone.

As word of the disaster spread more people turned up to help with the rescue. Raoul left them to finish digging out the survivors while he attended those they had already pulled out of the building. He had not wanted to reveal that he was a medical man, but there was no sign of the doctor and these people needed his help.