A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season by Nicola Cornick, Elizabeth Rolls, JOANNA MAITLAND

lurch. He cursed himself for the lack of patience that had given Lady Margaret this opportunity.
    He started forward. ‘Cassie…’
    Lady Margaret gave Peter a knowing smile and drifted away. The rest of the party were clattering down the staircase, chatting loudly.
    ‘Cassie…’ Peter said again, reaching out to her desperately. Her face was blank with shock. It was as though she did not even see him. All her hopes and fears were there for him to see in that instant, and he knew Lady Margaret had shattered them all with her deliberate spite.
    The others milled around them. There was no opportunity to talk or get Cassie on her own. Peter felt desperation rise in him. Lyndhurst started to engage him in conversation and he responded automatically, watching Cassie all the while. The horses had already been brought to the door. Sarah Mardon swept Cassie down the steps with her and out into the courtyard. As though to make matters worse, William Lyndhurst-Flint fell in beside Peter and tried him sorely with his light attempts at man-to-man conversation. Peter could see Cassie riding up ahead, her back very firmly turned to him.
    He finally caught up with her when they reached the racecourse on the top of the Downs and dismounted to consider the view. Peter spared the rolling scenery a half-second glance, then caught Cassie’s arm and drew her into the shelter of the rubbing house.
    ‘I must speak with you,’ he said.
    Cassie was still pale, but at least she was seeing him now. His heart lifted a little with hope that she might at least listen to him.
    ‘Not here,’ she said, her mouth setting obstinately.
    ‘Yes, here,’ Peter said. He was as tense as a coiled spring. ‘I am not prepared to wait for some convenient moment.’ He could feel the stiffness in her. Her body was poised for flight. He held her tightly.
    ‘It is true that Lady Margaret came to my chamber last night,’ he said rapidly, knowing that nothing but the absolute truth would do now. He felt shock rip through Cassie like a flood tide; felt her tremble. So she had not quite believed it of him until now. It seemed cold comfort when she would think that he had just confirmed her worst fears.
    ‘I see,’ she said dully.
    ‘I doubt that you do,’ Peter said. ‘I sent her away. Nothing happened between us. I swear it.’
    Cassie’s eyes were smoky with doubt. ‘I see,’ she said again.
    ‘It is you that I want—’ Peter started to say, then stopped as he saw the cynicism in her eyes.
    ‘Of course,’ she said.
    He shook her slightly. ‘No! Not for the money. Damn it, Cassie, I would marry you without a penny! I love you! I just do not know how to prove it to you—’
    There was the crunch of gravel underfoot and William Lyndhurst-Flint came around the side of the building. Never had a man been more unwelcome.
    ‘Sorry to interrupt, old chap,’ Lyndhurst-Flint said with patent insincerity, ‘but there is a storm blowing up. We thought it better to return to the house and arrange some alternative entertainment for today. Didn’t want you to get left behind, you know.’
    Cassie freed herself from Peter’s grasp. She gave him a long, thoughtful look. ‘We may talk later, Lord Quinlan.’
    ‘Hope there’s nothing wrong, old fellow,’ Lyndhurst-Flint said, smirking slightly as he watched Cassie walk away. ‘Terrible shame for you if it were all to go awry—’
    Peter gave him such a hard stare that he stopped abruptly.
    ‘Your commiserations are received in the same spirit that they were given,’ he snapped, and followed Cassie back to where the horses were tethered.
     
    By the time that they were halfway back to the house, the thunderstorm was rolling across the hills at their back. The wind was rising and the first fat drops of rain were starting to fall from the edge of the cloud. Cassie urged her horse to a reckless speed as it plunged down the combe. She wanted to outrace her demons.
    Had Peter been telling her the truth? She