Part 18 (1/2)
”If you find it entertaining.”
Watching him go, Ca.s.sie thought wryly that if he got himself killed in the streets, at least she wouldn't have to go to Summerhill.
Impatiently Grey changed into a nondescript coat provided by Mr. Powell, added an equally shapeless hat, and headed east. He wanted to stretch his legs, see more of London. Pull his cracked self together so he could be the son who was needed at Summerhill.
And somewhere along the way, he wanted to find a good fight.
Ca.s.sie had never visited Mackenzie's house, and it proved to be a handsome building right next door to his club, Damian's. As she waited for a footman to announce her to Kiri, she studied the furnis.h.i.+ngs, seeing attractive Indian accents that must have been added by the new mistress of the house.
”Ca.s.sie, what a pleasure!” Lady Kiri swept into the entry hall and hugged her guest. ”I was writing letters, very tedious. Much better to hear of your adventures!”
Ca.s.sie gave her bonnet and cloak to the footman and followed Kiri to the pleasant morning room, which included a desk with papers and pen. ”Adventures can come later,” Ca.s.sie said. ”First I must throw myself on your mercy, for I'm in dire need of your services.”
”Perfume? Of course.” Kiri settled gracefully into the chair by her desk and gestured for Ca.s.sie to sit opposite.
”Much more than perfume is required,” Ca.s.sie said grimly as she took the chair. ”Tomorrow I must accompany Wyndham to his family seat in the guise of his betrothed, and I need to be transformed into someone whom he might plausibly wed.”
Kiri's eyes widened. ”You are to be a false fiancee? Why?”
Ca.s.sie explained tersely. When she was done, Kiri said, ”This is a difficult mission for many reasons, yes? Because this time it is more than playacting.”
”You have put your finger on my uneasiness,” Ca.s.sie said slowly. ”I am too involved with Wyndham for this to be easy. Also ...” She looked down at her knotted fingers and realized she was feeling an anxiety very different from the straightforward fear of death or imprisonment that was a constant threat in France.
”Also ... ?” Kiri prompted gently.
”For the first time, I must enter the world I was born to, but lost,” Ca.s.sie said haltingly. ”I survived by accepting that that world was lost and moving forward, always forward. Now I must pretend to belong in that lost life, and the thought is ... terrifying.” Her throat closed.
”I'm trying to imagine myself in your situation, and I can't. But I see it would be deeply unnerving.” Kiri's eyes narrowed. ”Might this be easier if you look in the mirror and see a stranger instead of yourself? That would be more like playacting.”
”Perhaps.” Ca.s.sie bit her lip as she recognized another possibility. ”I don't want to lie to Grey's family since he'll have to live with them, so I should use my real name. That way if an old aunt asks about my family, I can give a real answer rather than make something up and possibly be caught out.”
Kiri noted her use of Grey's personal name without comment. ”I can have cards printed for you today so you'll have them to support your role.”
”You can get cards made in a day?” Ca.s.sie asked incredulously.
”There are many advantages to being daughter and sister to a duke,” Kiri explained. ”Here's pencil and paper. Write down what the cards should say.”
Ca.s.sie wrote out her birth name for the first time in almost twenty years. ”This feels strange. I am no longer Catherine St. Ives.”
”Part of you is, despite all that has happened. It may not be a bad thing to become better acquainted with Catherine.” Kiri's brows arched when she saw what Ca.s.sie had written. ”Next, appearance. Can that hair coloring you use be washed out? Not only is the color ugly, but it dulls your hair.”
”The color can be washed out with vinegar, but I don't want to go to my natural color.” Ca.s.sie made a face. ”It's a violent red that was the bane of my childhood. I was happy to have a reason to dye it brown. I haven't seen the original color since I was a child, and good riddance.”
The color had worn off when she was in prison. After her escape, she'd worn a head scarf and avoided mirrors until she could make and apply a batch of the coloring.
”If you wish to create a role that is not you, what better place to start than with Catherine St. Ives's hair? It will have darkened over the years so it will be a less alarming shade of red now.” Kiri made a note on her list. ”Clothing. You will need at least two good day dresses, another for evening wear, and a riding habit. Plus the undergarments and shoes and cloaks and other accessories.”
Ca.s.sie sighed. ”Which will be impossible to obtain by tomorrow. At least, not clothing of the quality the role requires. Even more middling garments will be difficult on such short notice.”
”Nonsense. My sister, Lucia, is close to you in size. I shall ask her to send over several gowns she can spare that will suit your coloring. I shall also summon the splendid Madame Helier, modiste for all the women in my family. She may have partially completed garments that would suit you, and she has seamstresses who can do quick alterations.” Kiri grinned. ”This will be such fun!”
”I'll wager you liked playing with dolls when you were a girl,” Ca.s.sie said dryly.
”Indeed I did. I turned them into beautiful warrior queens.”
Ca.s.sie had no trouble imagining that. ”Like you? But I am neither beautiful nor a warrior queen.”
Kiri's eyes gleamed. ”You will be when I'm finished with you.”
Ca.s.sie rolled her eyes. ”I'm beginning to think coming here was a mistake.”
”I promise you'll thank me for it later.” Kiri's eyes narrowed. ”Might you be ready to wear the perfume I created for you?”
Ca.s.sie's heart clutched as she thought of roses and frankincense, lost dreams and darkest night. Was she ready for that much truth? Haltingly she said, ”Perhaps ... I am.”
”Truly you will not regret it,” her friend said quietly. ”Now let me send off these notes to summon my troops, and then we'll go to work on that hair!”
Chapter 31.
Grey headed east across London at a ground-eating pace. He needed to burn off the seething anxiety induced by his imminent return to his family home.
After years of captivity and weeks of travel by horse, boat, and carriage, it felt good to stretch his legs. He also discovered a new kind of freedom in having no one know where he was.
To his surprise, it even felt good to be alone. After ten years of solitary confinement, he'd been hungry for human contact only to find that crowds sent him into a flat panic. Only with Ca.s.sie was he truly comfortable, though he could manage a few friends like Pere Laurent or Lady Agnes or Kirkland.
He hoped he'd be able to retrieve Regine soon. He'd need her company because soon he wouldn't have Ca.s.sie. The thought of living without her was a pain so deep he didn't have words to describe it. But even her superb kindness couldn't hide her impatience to be free of her nursemaid duties so she could return to her real work.
He was a little ashamed of invoking her promise to stay with him as long as she was needed so that she'd come with him to Summerhill. Though not ashamed enough to wish he hadn't done it.
With his father critically ill, of course he must return home. The prospect had been paralyzing even before he'd learned of his father's illness. Now it was worse.
He didn't doubt that they'd welcome him. The problem was facing them. Even more than his lifelong friends, his family had expectations and memories of him. They were the people he'd hurt the most. He couldn't bear the thought of hurting them more by being so different from what they remembered.
The situation was made much more difficult by his father's critical illness. If Lord Costain died ...
Grey shuddered, not wanting to think of it.
He suspected that once his family's initial shock was over and all the explanations had been made, he'd be able to manage, with Ca.s.sie's help. Then he'd prepare himself for the even more devastating challenge of saying good-bye to her.
He set aside his worries about returning home and concentrated on London. He'd reached the busy stretch of the Thames called the Pool of London, which stretched east from London Bridge. There was a forest of masts from the sailing s.h.i.+ps moored two and three deep at the public quays. Sailors of many nations walked the streets and exotic scents and accents overlaid the usual smells of London.
He found that the crowds didn't bother him much as long as he stayed on the edges. Apparently his fear of crowds was diminis.h.i.+ng.
He paced along the quays, studying the s.h.i.+ps. Once he'd dreamed of boarding such a vessel and sailing to distant lands. France had been his first venture from England's sh.o.r.es. It had not turned out well.
He wondered if he'd ever regain that desire to travel. At the moment, the idea of never setting foot out of Great Britain was immensely appealing.