Helen Dickson - A Scoundrel of Consequence

Miss Greenwood was quite exquisite, William decided, with an air of fragility about her, but she reminded him of a rapier blade, a sliver of silver made of steel. He wanted to laugh out loud. So this was how she extracted donations for her precious institute.

Moving out of the shadows, completely impervious to the stir he was creating, since it was the first society event he’d attended since returning to London, William advanced towards her, the crowd parting as if he had ordered it.

Cassandra was in the process of deciding who to approach next when she saw him moving in her direction. He was tall, with an authoritative air of breeding and command and an unconscious swagger of arrogance, which spoke of generations of influence and superiority and advantage. With wide shoulders and a hard, stern face and iron jaw, his bright blue eyes beneath fine dark brows were disconcertingly amused as they gazed into hers. When he was close a strange, unfathomable smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he slowly inclined his head towards her.

‘Hello, Miss Greenwood,’ he said, in a deep, resonant and incredibly seductive voice.

His very nearness had her stiffening. The sensation unnerved her. His towering figure left her no avenue of escape. She wished she were nearly a foot taller so she could meet him eye to eye. He was too attractive and had too much charm for his own good. Some people were born like that. It was as if they had a magnet inside them.

‘Why, Captain Lampard. This is a surprise.’

A crooked smile accompanied his reply. ‘For me rather more than it is for you, Miss Greenwood. You look ravishing, by the way. That colour is 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.’