A Scoundrel of Consequence. Helen Dickson

A Scoundrel of Consequence - Helen Dickson


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far more flattering to your colouring than the diabolical grey dress you were wearing on the day we met.’

      Resentment coursed through Cassandra’s veins. It dawned on her as his gaze dropped to her breasts in a leisurely perusal that he was far more interested in what was beneath the gown than the gown itself. He raised his eyes to her face where they captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks.

      ‘What are you doing here, Captain Lampard?’ she asked, her smile deliberately cold and ungracious.

      ‘Your aunt invited me.’

      ‘So, you are aware that Lady Monkton is my aunt. Really she is my mother’s cousin, but she has always been known as aunt to me and my sister. How long have you known?’

      ‘About ten minutes.’ If she had suspected his presence at her aunt’s ball had been staged with her specifically in mind, then she was mistaken—disappointed, too, he hoped. ‘I grew bored watching the world go by in my town house so I came to see if the sights were any better here at Monkton House.’ He spoke with slow deliberation and the corners of his lips twitched with amusement. His eyes gleamed into hers as he added softly, ‘I am happy to report they far exceed my expectations and I’m glad I came.’

      Cassandra turned aside, tossing him a cool glance askance. ‘Have you nothing better to do than ogle the ladies, Captain Lampard?’

      ‘It might look like that, but in truth I was watching just one.’

      Cassandra ignored the remark, but she could not ignore the seductive lowering of his eyelids or the quickening of her heart. ‘The gaming tables seem to attract a good many gentlemen. Why don’t you try that?’

      ‘Because I find talking to you more enjoyable than anything else I could come up with.’

      ‘Your shoulder is healing well, I trust?’

      ‘Apart from the occasional twinge it is almost back to normal. Your Dr Brookes did a fine job. I am in your debt, Miss Greenwood.’

      ‘Yes, you are, Captain Lampard,’ she replied coldly, not having forgiven him for not having sent her the promised donation.

      As though reading her mind, he said, ‘You received the bank draft I sent to the institute?’

      ‘I cannot recall having done so.’

      William frowned, averting his eyes in angry disgust. He would have a few choice words to say to his secretary. Damn the man and his incompetence. ‘Then I can only assume there has been a mix up somewhere. I gave it to my secretary to deliver in person. I apologise most sincerely that you have not received it. Rest assured that I shall look into the matter first thing in the morning.’

      ‘Thank you. It will be appreciated,’ she said coolly. ‘Following that unfortunate experience, perhaps you will think twice before you fight a duel to settle a score—be it a difference of opinion, cheating at cards, or a case of adultery—which, if what I have heard about you is to be believed, was more than likely the reason that took you to Green Park that day.’

      ‘You are mistaken, and it is clear to me that you know nothing about the rules of duelling.’

      ‘I don’t?’

      ‘No. For one thing, the normal practice when a duel is arranged is for witnesses—seconds—to be in attendance, and possibly a physician. Do you recall seeing any?’

      ‘Why—I—no, I do not.’

      ‘And for another, I do not hold with the practice. Perhaps you would care to take a walk outside in Lady Monkton’s exquisite gardens and allow me to enlighten you on the finer points of the art of duelling.’

      Cassandra drew back. ‘Certainly not. I refuse to go anywhere with you, sir.’

      A mildly tolerant smile touched his handsome visage, but the glint in his blue eyes was as hard as steel. ‘Very well, Miss Greenwood, but I would appreciate a word with you in private.’ Placing his hand firmly on her elbow, he led her to a small recess and looked down at her, his expression hard. ‘You are under a misconception as to what occurred when you came upon me in the park. There was no duel. I was there to enjoy the exercise and solitude of an early morning ride, nothing more sinister than that. In short, someone tried to kill me.’

      Oddly enough, Cassandra’s first fleeting thought was that he was joking, but, when she saw the firm set of his jaw, she was inclined to believe he was deadly serious. ‘To kill you,’ she repeated quietly, unable to entirely absorb such a macabre event taking place so close to herself, yet been unaware of it. ‘But why would anyone want to kill you?’

      ‘At the moment, the reason is unclear, but I will find out, that I promise you. Someone tried to bring my life to a premature end and I damned well intend finding out who and why. Did you happen to see anyone acting suspiciously that morning?’

      ‘Why, yes. Now I come to think of it, a man rode out of the trees close to where we found you. I didn’t see his face. He was wearing a hat pulled well down over his face, and a cloak.’

      ‘His horse? What colour was it—brown, black, grey?’ William demanded, sounding sharper than he intended, but he was impatient to discover any clue that would lead him to the culprit.

      ‘Dark brown—but on hearing the shot, I was more concerned about what had occurred than to take note of what the man and his horse looked like.’ She paused, becoming trapped in his blue gaze. ‘Do you think whoever it was will try again?’

      Expression grim, William nodded. ‘When I’m in London, I frequently ride in the park at that time. He must have been waiting for me—he didn’t try to rob me, so I can only assume he had murder in mind. There was no warning. Nothing. If he was prepared to try once, he’ll not let it alone. The question is, when.’

      ‘Then you will have to look to your safety and take all due care.’

      ‘I intend to. I am not the sort who jumps at shadows, and nor do I run from threats. As a soldier on campaign I learned to watch my back—I didn’t realise I would have to continue doing so in London.’

      ‘It would seem you have an enemy, Captain Lampard, one who hates you enough to want you dead.’

      ‘It looks like it.’

      ‘So, you are the innocent party and didn’t provoke a fight.’

      His eyes glowed in the warm light as he gave her a lazy smile, his mood reverting back to what it had been a moment before. ‘I cannot claim to be innocent, Miss Greenwood, but neither am I the black-hearted scoundrel I have been painted.’

      ‘I would hardly expect you to admit it if you were,’ Cassandra retorted crisply. ‘However, I’ve heard stories to convince me that you are.’

      The tantalising smile grew wider in the face of her derisive stare. Folding his arms, William leaned his back nonchalantly against a pillar. ‘I am deeply curious about you, Miss Greenwood. Tell me, have you always rebelled against the fashionable world?’

      ‘I suppose I have. I attend these affairs not because I enjoy them particularly, but because they are a means to bring about that which is closest to my heart.’

      ‘I’m aware of that. When you told me how you collect donations for your cause, I was ready to question your methods, but now I can see that with a flash of your eyes and a few chosen words you have them reaching into their pockets.’

      ‘That is my intention.’

      He gazed at her for a long moment, his devilish, sensual mouth turning upward in the faintest of cynical smiles. ‘You are an extremely forward, quite outrageous and outspoken young woman, Miss Greenwood.’

      ‘If you got to know me, you would have to become used to my manner and the way in which I deal with people.’ She met his gaze candidly. ‘You don’t approve of what I do, do you, Captain Lampard?’

      ‘It is not for me to approve or disapprove


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