Seduction on a Snowy Night Read online

  “Do forgive me, sir. I forgot . . . That is, I temporarily didn’t remember. . .” She dragged in a steadying breath. “Please accept my condolences on the recent death of your father.”

  “Thank you,” Heywood said, not sure what more to say. Though he hadn’t lived at home in years—hadn’t even been able to visit his family for more than brief stretches—he nonetheless felt the loss of his father like the ache of a phantom limb. The idea that Father was beyond his reach plagued him.

  Still, he’d seen a great deal of death since Father had bought him a commission in the Hussars at sixteen, so he’d learned how to shove his pain inside his box of memories so he could continue his missions.

  “In any case, if you wouldn’t mind finding your cousin—” he began.

  She colored. “Of course. She can’t have gone far. Shall I fetch my aunt as well?”

  “If you wish. But the message is primarily for your cousin.”

  “I see. Well then, I’ll just bring Kitty.” She cast him a rueful smile. “Aunt Virginia doesn’t like being pulled away from the whist table. She gets to play in company so rarely.” Miss Isles opened the French doors. “I’ll return shortly.”

  He peered inside, watching as the lady passed the massive hearth with its merrily burning Yule log and then disappeared through a door. Now he could only wait.

  There were no stars, and the air felt thick with the promise of snow. He hoped it held off until he spoke with Kitty Nickman and possibly her mother. He very much feared that the women might already have fallen prey to Malet’s sly flatteries.

  If that was the case, Heywood would lay out what he knew of the man and pray that they trusted his and Douglas’s judgment. He felt fairly certain he could at least convince Miss Isles. She seemed sensible enough to recognize, once the facts were presented to her, that Malet was the worst sort of scoundrel.

  A murmur of voices below the terrace caught his attention. “When you bring my rig around,” a man said, “park it here, below the terrace. The moment I come down these steps with Miss Nickman, you must be ready to leave.”

  Heywood scowled. Speak of the devil. That was Malet’s voice.

  “Yes, Captain,” said his coachman. “What about her mother and Miss Isles?”

  “Don’t worry about them. Just make sure you do your part. There’s some fellow sniffing around her here, and I’m not taking any chances. I’ve worked too hard and spent too much blunt trying to gain the chit’s affections, only to have some stranger whisk her away.”

  That confused Heywood. Had Malet seen him somehow? But then why talk as if he didn’t know who the “fellow” was?

  “Shall I assume we’re not returning to the Nickman estate, master?”

  “You’re correct,” Malet said. “But don’t worry. You’ll be paid amply for transporting me and my fiancée to Gretna Green in record time.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Fiancée? Gretna Green? Had it progressed as far as that?

  Heywood peered over the railing in time to see Malet stalk back into the house and a coachman hurry along the line of carriages parked along the drive until he came to the one that must be Malet’s.

  Damn it all to hell. Malet and Miss Nickman were eloping. Heywood may have arrived too late. Either that or he was arriving just in time.

  Regardless, Douglas would never forgive him if he did not find a way to keep Miss Nickman from marrying this blackguard. So that’s what Heywood must do.

  * * *

  It took Cass longer than she’d expected to find Kitty. First she looked for her in the card room. There Aunt Virginia was so intent on winning at whist that she merely waved her hand in a shooing motion when Cass approached her.

  Next Cass passed through the supper room, but neither Captain Malet nor Kitty was there, which alarmed her. If that dratted fellow had coaxed Kitty into being alone with him, Cass would have his head! The longer Cass peeked into the other rooms without finding Kitty, the more worried she got.

  Then she glimpsed the young woman marching down a hallway and muttering to herself, obviously in a temper—Kitty, who so rarely got angry at anything.

  “Are you all right?” Cass asked.

  Kitty blinked. “I’m fine. I was just . . . having an argument with a friend.”

  “Is it anyone I know?”

  A panicked expression crossed Kitty’s face. “Certainly not. Why would you? Know them, I mean.”

  Kitty was behaving oddly, to be sure. “Where did this argument take place?” Cass demanded.

  “In . . . um . . . the retiring room.”

  “I was just in the retiring room,” Cass said. “You weren’t there.”

  Wrapping her arms about her waist, Kitty murmured, “I left there, and I . . . decided to see what the rest of the manor looked like.”

  When she followed that outrageous remark with a weak smile, Cass rolled her eyes heavenward. Kitty had always been terrible at lying. Normally, Cass would wait her cousin out until she admitted the truth, but after traipsing up and down Welbourne Place, Cass didn’t have the patience for that. And did it really matter who the friend was? Kitty had a number of casual female friends.

  “Well,” Cass said, “right now I need you to come with me.” Taking Kitty by the arm, Cass stalked toward the ballroom. “Colonel Lord Heywood Wolfe is here with an important message from Douglas, so I told him I’d bring you onto the terrace to talk to him.”

  “Why in heaven’s name is he outside?”

  While they headed for the terrace doors, Cass explained. But as they neared them, she pulled Kitty to a halt. “Promise me you won’t tell him that I too am an heiress.”

  “Why would that come up in a conversation about a message from Douglas? I mean, it’s not as if—” Kitty halted as the significance of Cass’s words apparently hit her. “Wait. I thought you liked the colonel! You’ve said it many times—that you think he’s as clever as a bear.”

  “Not a bear, dearest. A fox. Clever as a fox.”

  Kitty had a tendency to mangle well-known phrases. But she never took offense when anyone corrected her. It was one of her most endearing qualities. Because Kitty was corrected a lot.

  “ ‘Bear,’ ‘fox,’ ” Kitty said with a wave of her hand. “What difference does it make?”

  “Well, foxes are known for being crafty whereas bears—” Cass shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, it’s precisely because I like him that I don’t want you to tell him I’m an heiress.”

  “Ohhh. Because you want him to marry you for love.”

  “Exactly.” She colored when she realized what she’d said. “Not that he’s interested in marrying me. I mean, he barely knows me. I suppose you could say he knows me from the letters, but—”

  “Cass!” her cousin said. “I get the point.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Even she acknowledged she had a tendency to go on and on sometimes.

  “And you are far too prickly about your inheritance.” When Cass started to protest, Kitty held up her hand. “Not everyone is after you for your fortune, despite what that fellow you fancied in Bath told his friends.”

  “It’s not about him. I’m just not ready to marry yet.”

  “Hmm,” Kitty said, clearly not believing her protest.

  Time to change the subject. “By the way, Colonel Lord Heywood mentioned how much your letters entertained him. Apparently Douglas always read them to his friend.”

  “Of course he did. You write very amusing letters.”

  “You told me what to say,” Cass said. “They’re still your letters.”

  Kitty snorted. “You chose all the words and put them into sentences. My telling you to describe our visit to some assembly hardly makes what’s written in them mine. All the droll remarks and lovely turns of phrase are yours.” Kitty’s shoulders drooped. “I suppose we ought to tell the colonel the truth. That I’m stupid.”

  “Don’t say that. You aren’t stupid.”

  “If I weren’t, you
wouldn’t be writing my letters. I get words mixed up all the time, I hate reading, Captain Malet chides me for telling stories wrong, and—”

  “Don’t you dare listen to that scoundrel!” Cass looped an arm around her cousin’s waist. “He doesn’t know anything. You merely have different abilities.”

  “That’s what Mr. Adams always says.”

  Mr. Adams? Cass examined Kitty’s face. How odd that she would mention her mother’s solicitor. As a widower with two small children, he seemed like someone beneath Kitty’s notice. But he did have a kind heart, and his earnest features were quite handsome.

  Still, Kitty had to know that her mother would never countenance such a marriage to a man of trade.

  Cass smiled. “Mr. Adams is quite right. You draw well, you sing like an angel, and your needlework is exquisite. You have plenty of qualities men prize in a wife.”

  Looking glum, Kitty pulled away from her. “Like my fortune.”

  “And your beauty and kindness and sweet temper. Any man would want to marry you. So I doubt your future husband will be disappointed that you can’t pen entertaining missives or tell a good tale.”

  “But I do so wish I was clever like you.” A heavy sigh escaped Kitty. “That’s why I’d prefer that Douglas not find out I can’t even write him a decent letter.” She lifted her gaze to Cass. “Do you think you might promise not to tell the colonel about that? Because he’ll surely tell Douglas.”

  How could Cass resist that sweet, anxious face? “I promise. You keep my secret and I’ll keep yours.”

  It wasn’t as if she was likely to see the colonel after tonight, anyway. His family lived all the way over in Lincolnshire, almost forty miles off, and she lived here. Besides, he was only on a leave of absence. He’d be gone back to Portugal by the time she and Kitty even had their season. Then it wouldn’t matter what he thought of her letters.

  “Now, dearest,” Cass told Kitty, “let’s go find out what message was so important that Douglas sent his friend to deliver it personally.”

  But when they went out to the terrace, it was to see the first snowflakes drifting down . . . and no sign of Colonel Lord Heywood.

  “Oh, no!” Cass cried. “It’s snowing!” And apparently he was gone.

  Then his voice came out of the gloom. “It’s about time you two showed up. You can both shelter under this.” He stripped off his greatcoat, which he handed to Cass, and she draped it over the two of them. “But we can’t stay out here,” he went on, “or you’ll be wet through. My coachman is bringing my carriage around now. We can traverse the drive while we talk.”

  He led them down the steps and around to where a carriage with a ducal crest pulled up in front of them. The crest reassured Cass that they were safe with him. He would hardly be riding in a ducal carriage, probably his brother’s, if he were some fortune-hunting scoundrel.

  After they got in, Kitty handed him his greatcoat. “Your equipage is lovely,” she said, as soon as they were headed off down the drive. “Ours isn’t nearly so roomy.” She pointed to the carriage lamps shining through the windows. “And we don’t have bright lanterns like these, to be sure.”

  “I can’t take credit for it, I’m afraid. The rig belongs to my brother Sheridan.” He uttered a self-deprecating chuckle. “I mean, His Grace, the newly minted Duke of Armitage. I can’t get used to Sheridan’s being a duke. I don’t think he can either.”

  “Well, tell your brother that I think it’s very fine,” Kitty said. “I wouldn’t mind traveling anywhere in a coach like this.”

  “Forgive me, sir,” Cass interrupted, “but we must discuss—”

  “Right.” He pulled a letter out of his pocket. “This is from Douglas.”

  Cass lifted an eyebrow. “You couldn’t just have given it to me to give Kitty?”

  “No,” he said flatly. “Douglas wanted me to put it into her hands personally so I could explain the contents in more detail as well as answer any questions. Since I was returning to England anyway, I was happy to undertake that mission.”

  “How intriguing,” Cass said as Kitty took it from him. “I’m dying to know what’s so important that it constitutes a ‘mission.’ ”

  She and Cass read the letter together by the light of the carriage lamps:

  Dearest Sister,

  My sincerest hope is that this finds you well, and that you have not yet met Mr. Lionel Malet—or succumbed to his false blandishments. He is—

  “I thought it was Captain Malet,” Kitty whispered to Cass. “And what does ‘blandishments’ mean?”

  Cass said, “It means ‘flatteries’ or ‘smooth talk.’” Cass shot His Lordship a furtive glance. “And there’s no point to whispering. I’m sure Colonel Lord Heywood can hear you perfectly well.”

  The man smiled faintly. “Please call me Heywood. I feel as if I know you both already through Douglas. And through Miss Nickman’s entertaining letters, of course.”

  Cass winced. It was harder than she’d expected not to be able to acknowledge her authorship of the letters.

  “Then you must call us Kitty and Cass,” Kitty said with a knowing smile for Cass.

  “Kitty!” Cass protested.

  “Why not? We know him already through letters, too.”

  Heywood tipped his hat to Kitty. “To answer your question, Malet was indeed a captain until he was cashiered for ‘conduct unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman.’ ”

  Kitty leaned up to whisper in Cass’s ear, “Even I know that’s very bad.”

  Cass nodded. If she remembered correctly, cashiering was when a soldier or officer was stripped of his rank so that he couldn’t sell his commission and then was discharged from the army or navy. Thank heaven for Douglas and his sense of responsibility. Kitty might actually heed her brother’s warnings about Mr. Malet.

  Kitty and Cass continued reading, but the rest merely confirmed what the colonel—Heywood—had said:

  I am sworn to secrecy on the matter that has destroyed Malet’s reputation among those who know him, but I assure you it is a serious charge. He is not the gentleman he appears to be. So avoid him or you may find your own reputation ruined. At the very least, you may be forced to marry a man who will treat you ill.

  My friend Heywood will answer your questions and make sure that Malet does you no harm. Please show Heywood the utmost courtesy as my emissary.

  With much affection,

  Douglas

  “Well!” Cass sat back. “That is quite a letter. Not that it surprises me one whit. I didn’t like Mr. Malet from the first moment I met him.”

  Kitty gazed out the window. “It seems to me that Douglas is being overly cautious. I mean, why would Mr. Malet fix on me to ruin? Or to marry, for that matter? Why not Cass, for example?”

  “He’s a fortune hunter, Kitty.” Cass suppressed a sigh. She should have known Kitty would have trouble keeping her secret. “He doesn’t fix on ladies like me, who have no dowries. Just ladies like you who do.”

  Heywood frowned. “It’s more than that. Douglas and I are the ones who discovered his perfidy and brought charges against him. In return, he threatened to get back at us by stealing away one of our sisters, both of whom are heiresses.”

  Cass’s stomach sank. How horrible!

  “Mr. Malet really said such a thing?” Kitty said, clearly as shocked as Cass.

  “He did.” Heywood rubbed his jaw. “I’m not worried about my sister, Gwyn—she and my brothers can hold their own against a regiment of Malets. But Douglas feared that you weren’t so well protected.”

  Kitty was no longer paying attention to him. “Where are we going?”

  When she leaned forward to gaze out the window, Cass did the same. She saw nothing but dustings of white over dark shapes of bushes and trees—no lights from the house, no flat contours of the lawn.

  They were decidedly not making the circuit of the drive at Welbourne Place. What was more, the coach had picked up speed now that it had reached the main
road.

  Cass stared hard at Heywood. “What are you about, sir? We are leaving Welbourne Place entirely!”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Forgive me, ladies, but I felt it best to whisk Miss Nickman away from Lionel Malet as quickly as possible and by any means at hand. The man is dangerous.”

  Kitty just sat there incredulous, but Cass couldn’t stay silent in the face of such blatant male arrogance. “You’re abducting us? Now? In the middle of a ball?”

  “Not ‘abducting.’ Rescuing. Malet was planning to carry Kitty off to Gretna Green just as soon as he could get her into his waiting carriage. Tell me, Cass—under the circumstances, what would you have done?”

  Chapter 3

  Heywood figured he was about to get an earful, judging from how Cass was curling her hands into fists in her lap.

  “I wouldn’t have abducted a couple of ladies, to be sure,” Cass bit out.

  “I’m not abducting you!” he practically shouted. “I am intervening. Malet gave me no other choice. The conversation I overheard between him and his coachman made it clear that Malet planned on leaving with Kitty as soon as he found her inside and could lure her into his coach. Indeed, Malet’s plan was only foiled because I got my equipage into position sooner than he did.”

  That seemed to stun both ladies into silence. The fact that Kitty in particular said nothing made Heywood even more cautious. Kitty might actually fancy herself in love with Malet. And though the woman might not know much about Malet’s true character, it had not escaped Heywood’s notice that she hadn’t sensed the man’s perfidy the way Cass seemed to have.

  Then again, Kitty seemed nothing like Cass. Hard to believe they were cousins. In appearance, Kitty reminded Heywood of every debutante he’d ever met—cut from the same cloth as their mothers. With her honey hair and perfect posture, she had that porcelain-doll fragility that most men wanted . . . as if she might shatter if someone so much as touched her. In his youth, he’d been certain he wanted that sort of woman: the kind he could protect, the kind that made him feel like a man.