Page 3 of Impetuous

She looked up at him, color still staining her cheeks. She was embarrassed, but Cassandra Verrere was not one to flinch from the truth. “What happened? Here, tonight, I mean. I—I feel so strange. I dreamed, well, bizarre things, things that I— Were they real? What did you—what did I do?”

Sir Philip hesitated, then he leaned over and took her hand gently. “You did nothing. I assure you. I entered your room, thinking you were another. You were in the midst of a fevered dream. I—you were tossing and turning. Thinking you were Joanna, I came over and, ah, took your arms. I tried to wake you, but you were very heavily asleep. I…kissed you. And you woke up. That is when I realized that you were not Miss Moulton.”

“And that is all?”

His eyebrows rose lazily. “Yes. Of course. What else could there be?”

Cassandra let out a sigh of relief. “Nothing. It was just peculiar. I felt as if I were not quite asleep, yet I could not seem to pull myself out of my slumber.”

“No doubt you had a tiring day.”

“Mmm.” Cassandra knew it had not been at all tiring physically. But the social interaction that a large house party involved was rather wearying. Still… “I think you had better leave now.”

“Yes. You’re right.” He slid off the bed and walked toward the door. Cassandra followed him. He paused and turned toward her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she responded automatically, then added, “What are you thanking me for?”

“For being a most calm and reasonable young woman. There are not many who would have reacted as you did.”

“Oh.” Cassandra nodded matter-of-factly. “I am afraid I haven’t much sensibility.”

He reached for the doorknob, but Cassandra laid a restraining hand on his arm. “No. You had better let me see if anyone happens to be out in the hall first.”

“Of course.” He nodded and stepped back.

Cassandra eased the door open a crack and put her eye to it. She gasped and jerked back, closing the door hastily. She turned to Sir Philip, her eyes huge.

“What is it?” He made a move toward the door, but she raised her hand.

“Don’t!” she cautioned. “Shh. It’s my aunt!”

Almost without thinking, she reached down and turned the key in the lock. The last thing she wanted was for Aunt Ardis to barge into her room.

“What is she doing here?” he whispered.

“I have no idea. Could she have seen you enter my room? If she knocks on the door, you will have to hide.” She looked speculatively toward the window. “I wonder if you could escape out the window.”

“We are on the second floor,” he reminded her.

“There might be a trellis or a tree.”

He raised one brow sardonically. “You seem awfully familiar with this sort of predicament.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

Their discussion was interrupted at that moment by heavy pounding on a door, not Cassandra’s, but the one next door. Cassandra jumped at the sound, then relaxed with a heartfelt sigh. “Thank God. She’s at Joanna’s room.”

“Joanna!” Aunt Ardis bellowed, her voice carrying clearly through the walls. “Open this door. This is your mother! Open this door at once, I say!”

“Is your aunt in the habit of waking everyone up in the middle of the night this way?”

Cassandra shook her head, puzzled. “No. I cannot imagine what has possessed her. She is always in bed by ten.”

“Joanna!”

Cassandra stealthily unlocked her door and opened it a fraction, peering out at the spectacle of her aunt. Aunt Ardis was a sizable woman, with a large bosom that thrust out like the prow of a ship when she was corseted. It did so now, despite the fact that Aunt Ardis wore a red velvet dressing gown and bedroom slippers. Cassandra noticed, too, that her hair was still coiled up into its usual flat braided bun, not hanging loose down her back. Cassandra frowned, wondering what could have happened to put her aunt into such a state.

“Joanna! Open up I say. Who’s in there with you? I heard voices.”