Page 37 of Memories Made At Midnight

That didn’t come as a surprise.

Cassius suspected the earl wasn’t as flush in the pockets as he pretended, and that was worth investigating. In truth, Cassius had already written to his brother Lucius, requesting he do just that. He believed the earl had been plotting to get his greedy hands on her funds, or at least a portion of them, one way or another, for some time.

Though how, given the former countess’ provisions, Cassius couldn’t imagine. Moreover, why had Highbury waited until now?

Likely, the earl had come up with the scheme to see Beatrice wed because he’d lied to her about the age she could inherit, and he’d hoped the guise of a forced marriage would keep that little detail hidden.

His lordship hadn’t counted on Beatrice’s resourcefulness or tenacity.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, her gold-tipped lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks.

When she opened them, resolution had replaced her earlier shock, though she still appeared a trifle piqued. No doubt due to the strain of worrying about her sick companion, fretting about the earl’s motives, and the discomfit of having to deal with the likes of Mr. Dungworth.

Lord, how Cassius admired her pluck.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, b-but will you take me to London to m-meet with the solicitor?” Her expression held such hope. “I can p-pay you for your trouble after I receive my inheritance.”

“I don’t want your money, Beatrice.”

In fact, her offer insulted him, though he knew she hadn’t intended for it to.

“I meant n-no offense, Cassius.” A flush stole up her face, but she persisted. “Will you take me to London? Please?”

Cassius should refuse—not even consider helping her for half a second.

I shall regret getting involved.

Too bloody bad.

I’m already involved.

He’d become involved the minute he accepted the commission to paint her likeness.

No, he became captivated the instant he saw her running across the lawn at Highbury House.

Two entirely different things.

“I shan’t take you to London, but I shall take you to Hefferwickshire House, the ducal estate, and with my father, we can all journey to the city.” Not only would her uncle expect them to head straight for London, but Cassius wanted the protection his father could provide if they encountered Highbury in the city.

Cassius cupped her face, her soft lips mere inches away. “But we must leave now.”

“Now?” she choked, going pale as chalk again. “I c-cannot. What about M-Millborn? My other animals?”

“I’m positive the solicitors have written your uncle regarding Father’s inquiries.” In point of fact, that might be the reason Highbury demanded Beatrice return earlier today—to confront her. “If we don’t go now, you might not find another opportunity, and I believe you are no longer safe in your uncle’s care. I’ll have my doctor friend look in on Millborn.”

Cassius glanced out the window.

Even now, did someone watch his establishment, spying on Beatrice?

“Do you ride?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “Uncle wouldn’t permit me to learn.”

She sneezed, then sneezed again before retrieving a plain square from her reticule and, half-turning away, blew her nose.

Cassius stifled his curse.

That meant they must travel by coach, which was much slower progress and easier for Highbury to catch up, as they must take the typical routes, rather than shortcuts only a horse could manage.