Seducing the Ruthless Rogue (11 page)

“You are quite good at deducing, aren’t you?”

“But you are not referred to as a ‘lord’.”

“Indeed.”

“Why not?”

“I believe we have reached your house.”

Cassie watched him closely.
 
He moved as if he were escaping a burning building.
 
He helped her down then turned and walked to the door, beating on it until it opened.
 
“I am delivering your Miss Graham.
 
Keep her at home until I say otherwise,” Mack instructed to the little man that bowed his thanks profusely.

“You can’t do that!” Cassie exclaimed.
 
“I am a human being and have done nothing wrong.
 
I will not stay in my house as if I am a prisoner.”

“Someone believes you did something, and until I figure out what is going on, yes, you will be staying in your house.
 
Mr. Chang, if I stop by at any time, day or night, and find her missing, I am holding you personally responsible.
 
Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mr. McKenzie.
 
I take good care of Missy Cassie.”

“See that you do,” he said as he swung into the coach and shut the door.

“I despise you, you, you…”

“Come, Missy Cassie, before you get me in trouble,” Chang said, tugging on her arm.

“Oh!” She stomped her foot in anger before allowing the older man to pull her into the house.

Chapter 6

Cassie readied a bath for herself, refusing to allow Chang to help her.
 
She knew she should be thankful to the man for going to Director McKenzie for assistance, but she could not help feeling just a bit betrayed.
 
The last person she expected to see enter that cramped, dirty watchhouse was McKenzie.
 
She repeated her actions of yesterday morning, vigorously scrubbing her skin.
 
This time she soaped her hair as well, feeling as if her scalp crawled with vermin.
 

Her thoughts kept turning to poor Abby and Jemma.
 
They had both suffered so much.
 
Cassie’s anger grew by leaps and bounds as her thoughts turned towards the government and their lack of concern for the widows and orphans of their fallen soldiers, as well as the injured soldiers themselves.
 
She stood after scrubbing her scalp, and bent over, hefting one pail of clear, warm water.
 
Her anger was a living thing, coursing through her as the water sluiced over her body, washing away the suds.
 
Cassie replaced the pail on the ground, took up the second one and repeated the process.

Cassie twisted her long, blonde hair, squeezing out the excess water as much as possible.
 
She wrapped it in a towel so that it looked like a turban.
 
The other bath sheet she wrapped around her body.
 
She peeked around the screen and saw Chang sitting at the table, sipping his tea, and looking pensively out the window.
 
Her heart clenched because she knew she had hurt the old man’s feelings.
 
He is all you have right now,
she chastised herself.
 
If you push him away, then who do you have?
 

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and called out, “No peeking now, Chang.”
 
The older man said nothing, just continued sipping and staring.
 
Cassie slipped out of the kitchen, down the hall, and upstairs to her room where she quickly dried herself and changed into a soft, worn dress.
 
She removed the towel from her head, allowing her tangled hair to fall about her shoulders.
 
She took a comb and attacked the tangles, taking her frustrations on the knotted locks, grateful for the pain.
 
Cassie took a deep breath and knew that she needed to apologize to her companion.

Cassie entered the kitchen once more.
 
“Chang, I’m sorry.
 
You were only doing what you knew to do, and I appreciate that.
 
If you had not gotten Director McKenzie, Mrs. Thompson and I could very well be sitting in prison, and little Jemma would be in an orphanage.”

“Missy Cassie, I only wanted to help you.
 
This is big city, dangerous city.
 
I not know where to look for you.
 
I not know what ‘watchhouse’ is.
 
Director McKenzie smart man,” he said tapping a gnarled finger to his temple.
 
“I knew he could help.
 
I promised your mama I take care of you and Sir Graham if anything ever happen to her.
 
I only do half my job,” he bowed his head, defeated.
 
Sadness dripped from his every word.

“Oh, Chang,” Cassie crossed the room and knelt before the wizened little man.
 
“Chang, you are doing a wonderful job, and what has happened to Papa is not your fault.
 
I solely lay that blame at Director McKenzie’s door and no one else.”

“You too hard on Director McKenzie.
 
He good man.”

“He is aggravating beyond measure,” she argued.

“I think Missy Cassie like him,” Chang said slyly.

“I think Chang is crazy,” she retorted.
 
“I will forgive you a lot of things, but not that, Chang.
 
Director McKenzie is opinionated, short-tempered, and…”

“Handsome,” Chang helped, cheerfully.

“Loathsome,” she retorted.
 
“I am retiring to the study.”

“I bring you tray with food and drink,” the little man said, standing as she did.

“Thank you, Chang, for everything,” Cassie hugged him tightly.
 
“I don’t know what I would have done without you this past year.
 
And Papa and I would have been lost without you before that,” she avowed, her voice cracking.

“Now, Missy Cassie, you stop that,” Chang sniffed.
 
“You go work.
 
Now.”
 
He clapped his hands after her then made a shooing motion with them.

“Yes, sir,” Cassie retorted, a smile in her voice and on her lips.
 
Feeling much better, she made her way into the study and took her seat at the desk.
 
She picked up her journal and unwrapped the leather strap that kept it closed.
 
Her eyes scanned the pages, going over the notes she had jotted down from each protest she had attended yesterday.
 
Then her eyes took in Abby and Jemma’s story.
 
Several other people in the watchhouse had added their own story, giving her more information than just one article.
 
Three different article possibilities stared up at her.
 
How could she determine which was more important?
 
All of them focused on the plight of humanity and society and the government’s lack of consciousness.

Cassie pulled stationary to her and began composing a letter to the owner of the newspaper, outlining her plan for a series of articles.
 
She promised him the first one would be ready for publication in two days’ time.
 
The letter was ready to be delivered when Chang entered carrying a tray loaded with food.

“Chang, I was only gone overnight,” she argued.

“Long time, no food.
 
You eat.”
 
He pushed the tray towards her.

“All right, if you will see this is delivered for me,” Cassie countered.
 
She watched him take the sealed letter and bow repeatedly as he left the room.
 
No matter how many times she and her parents had told him he was a member of the family, he still acted as if they were royalty or some outrageous thing like that.
 
Cassie nibbled at the food, her mind wandering.
 
She stood and crossed the room, pulling a worn familiar book off the shelf.
 
Settling once more in her chair, she began flipping through pages, searching for names.
 
“Aha!” she exclaimed.

Under her finger in
Debrett’s Peerage
lay the information she wanted:

Drummond, 2
^nd
viscount, created earl of
Roth
, 20 November 1735…
she continued reading until she came to the name she wanted.
 
It seemed she had found Abby’s parents--Edward and Beatrice Drummond, the Earl and Countess of Roth.
 
Cassie made notations in her journal before idly turning to the section on Scotland.
 
It took her longer this time, but among the fine notations, she found the information she desired.
 
Stuart McKenzie’s father’s name is Duncan McKenzie, Laird of Banff.
 
She scribbled down the information on a separate sheet of paper, and found herself wondering why a laird’s firstborn son was running a government office rather than being trained to care for the family’s estate and people.
 
And why did he have a brother who was a duke, with an entirely different last name?
 
Cassie closed the book and set it aside.
 

She read the notes of the first demonstration she had attended once more.
 
She sat there, staring at nothing.
 
If anyone were to pass, they would think she were in some sort of trance, and perhaps they were correct.
 
When she wrote, the words came to her like a puzzle in her mind, and she sorted them as best she could before putting them to paper.
 
Satisfied with how to attack this particular article, Cassie dipped her quill and began scribbling.
 
She was so engrossed with her writing, she never noticed when Chang came in and lit the lamps around the room.
 
Finally, after rereading the article and making minuscule changes, she stood and stretched, pleased with her work.

Cassie took a portfolio, placed the article inside and then wrapped a ribbon around it.
 
She set it aside so that Chang could take it first thing in the morning.
 
Standing and stretching, she moved about the room to get her blood flowing to her stiff limbs once more.
 
Cassie crossed to the window and pulled back the curtain.
 
“Where has the day gone?” she asked, baffled.
 
Her stomach growled indelicately in answer.
 
She leisurely strolled back to the plate of food, took it, and curled up on the divan in the room.
 
She munched on the cheeses and meats that Chang had brought for her, knowing that she hated to sit down to meals when she worked, much preferring to be able to snack.
 

When her hunger had been satisfied, Cassie set the plate on the floor, relaxing against the side of the settee.
 
She found her mind drifting to her novel.
 
She had been stuck on an aspect of the plot for several days and was frustrated that she could not work it out.
 
The heroine in the book is sold into marriage to a man surrounded by intrigue by a despicable uncle.
 
When she tries to run away, the dark and brooding groom, captures her.
 
Cassie’s eyes drift closed as she imagines the scene.

I stand at the post station impatiently awaiting my chance at freedom.
 
My dear maid, Cecily, gave me her clothing so that I could escape undetected.
 
All I carry with me is a small bag with my mother’s jewelry and what is left of my pin money.
 
A heaviness enters my chest as I think of my parents, lost to me forever.
 
I have no idea where I will go, I just know I have to escape London and
him
.

I look up and it is as if thinking about him has conjured the dark devil himself.
 
My heart is racing, and I know that he has spied me.
 
I look around quickly for an escape.
 
Then I see it.
 
A wagon laden with objects is barreling towards the platform.
 
I look behind me and see my betrothed coming toward me, stalking me as if I were the prey and he the hunter.
 
I say a quick prayer asking for forgiveness and understanding before I throw myself into the path of the conveyance.
 

I expect pain, but instead I feel as if I am floating in the air.
 
My back hits something firm and solid, and it is only then I realize my enemy has saved me.

“No,” I whimper, defeated.

“You will not get away from me that easily,” he sneers.

“I would rather die than marry you,” I avow.

“We will marry first, and then I will see if I can’t see your request is fulfilled,” he whispers in my ear so that I am the only one that hears the threat and the promise in his words.

I turn and look at him, my eyes wide with fear, and my breath catches in my throat.
 

Cassie’s heart raced as she sat up.
 
What was wrong with her?
 
As she worked the scene out, the characters somehow morphed from what she had originally envisioned into her and Director McKenzie playing the parts.
 
His eyes were silver, glinting like diamonds.
 
His face showed the years of abuse it had taken, but beneath all that had been a passion he could not hide.