Seducing an Angel

"You did right, Mary," he said. "Lady Paget needs someone to look after her, and it appears to me as if you do that very well indeed. And she needs friends. She needs love."

"/I/ love her," she said. "But I am the one who caused her all the trouble in the end. It was all my fault."

She threw her apron over her face, and Belinda stopped rocking her doll and looked up.

"No, this has been my fault," he said. "I ought not to have come in to pester you with questions. How is Beth today, Belinda? Is she sleeping?"

"She is being naughty," she said. "She wants to play."

"Does she?" he said. "Perhaps you ought to play with her for a little while, then, or tell her a story. Stories often put babies to sleep."

"I'll tell her one, then," she said. "I know one. She has just eaten, and if I play with her she may be sick."

"I can see," he said, "that you are a very good and wise mother. She is fortunate."

He turned his attention back to Mary, who was smoothing her apron down over her skirt again.

"I have kept you long enough from your work – or perhaps from your leisure hour," he said. "And I am sorry about the questions I asked. I am not usually so inquisitive about other people's business."

"Do you care for her?" she asked.

"Yes." He raised his eyebrows. "I am afraid I do."

"Then I forgive you," she said, and blushed hotly. "Will you be offended," he asked her, "if I leave you money to take Belinda to Gunter's for an ice when you have free time one afternoon? No child should go through life without that experience. No adult either."

"I got money," she said.

"I know." He smiled. "But it would give me pleasure to treat Belinda – and you."

"Very well, then," she said. "Thank you, my lord."

He took his leave after setting down some coins on the table – just enough for two ices – and hurried from the house. He made his way homeward even though there was still plenty of the afternoon left. He was in no mood for any of his usual pursuits. He did not even consider going to the races after all, though he would not have missed very much.

He tried to think of all the young ladies with whom he usually liked to dance and converse, even flirt in a mild sort of way.

He could scarcely bring one face to mind.

If memory served him correctly, he had not yet reserved even one set with anyone for tomorrow's ball. /She/ had been to blame for what had happened at the end, Mary had just said. For Paget's death, he had taken her to mean. And she had been quite adamant that Cassandra had not done it.

Immediately after saying so, of course, she had said she worshipped Cassandra. It was easy to lie for a loved one.

The dog had been maimed while taking a whipping intended for his mistress. His leg had been crushed with a shovel – also intended for Cassandra? Would she be dead now instead of her husband if Roger had not intervened on that occasion? And would the official story have been that she was another victim of a fall from horseback?

He had a headache, Stephen discovered when he arrived home.

He /never/ suffered from headaches.

"Go away, Philbin," he told his man when he found him in his dressing room, putting away some freshly ironed shirts. "I'll just be barking at you if you open your mouth, and I'll be damned before I'll be apologizing to you every second day of my life."

"The new boots pinching, are they, m'lord?" Philbin asked cheerfully. "I told you when you got them that – "

"Philbin," Stephen said, grasping his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand, "go. Now."

Philbin went.

Cassandra had looked through the paper Alice had bought a few days ago and had written down the names and addresses of three lawyers she hoped might be able to help her. Alice, when she knew what Cassandra was going to do, advised that she talk with Mr. Golding or even the Earl of Merton. Both would surely know the best lawyers for such a case.

But Cassandra was tired of leaning upon men. They were rarely reliable, and even if that was probably an unfair judgment of Mr. Golding and undoubtedly of Stephen, then she was tired of having no real control over her own life. Less than a week ago she had thought to get that control by acquiring a wealthy protector. Now she was going to do what she ought to have done at the start.

It was not easy, though, as she discovered when she called upon the three lawyers one by one, Alice at her side. Alice had insisted upon accompanying her. Nobody would take a lady seriously, she explained, if she was alone.

Nobody took her seriously anyway.

The first lawyer was not taking new clients, as he was far too busy with the ones he already had – even though he had advertised his services in the paper. The next lawyer was far more blatant about recognizing her name, and sent out the message that he was not a criminal lawyer and would not represent ruthless murderers even if he were.

Alice wanted to go home after that. She was very upset. So was Cassandra, but the effect of the man's rudeness to her – which, by the way, he had not had the courage to deliver in person – was to make her lift her chin and square her shoulders and march onward with an almost militant stride.

The third lawyer admitted them to his i

Cassandra offered what she had. If her claim was an easy one and if he could get her money with little delay, then she would be able to pay him in full very soon. But while her money was being withheld from her, she explained, she really had quite limited means.

It seemed that it had not occurred to him that someone with the title /Lady/ Paget might also be virtually pe

He could not possibly proceed on so small a retainer.

He had a wife and six children…

He regretted having wasted his precious time…

There was, of course, his consultation fee…

And there would be a great deal of work involved in…

Lady Paget could not possibly expect him…

Cassandra did not even listen. She got to her feet and swept from the office and the building, Alice scurrying along behind her.

"Perhaps," Alice said when they were outside and striding along the pavement, "the Earl of Merton would – "

Cassandra rounded on her, her eyes blazing.

"Just a few days ago," she said, "the Earl of Merton was the devil incarnate in your eyes because he was paying me a generous salary for the use of my body. And yet now, Alice, you think it perfectly unexceptionable to beg a small fortune from him though he is no longer making use of my body?"

"Oh, shush, Cassie," Alice said, looking around in an agony of embarrassment.

Fortunately there were not many pedestrians on the street, and none were within earshot.

"I was merely thinking of a /loan/," Alice said. "If that man is right, you would soon be able to pay it back."

"I would not pay that man a /farthing/," Cassandra said, "if he could get me my money with the crown jewels thrown in /tomorrow/."

And then her shoulders slumped.

"I am sorry, Allie," she said. "I had no right to snap at you of all people. But tell me I am right. Tell me all men are rotten to the core."