Chapter 21

"We need a change of plan."
Dumping the arm load of gowns she was carrying down on the nearest armchair, Cass strove to stop her hands from shaking, her voice too. Not with nerves. No. Nerves were things she had murdered long ago. With annoyance. Rage wasn't worth falling prey to, not when she had conspicuously failed again in her bid to do anything really. So now she was being forced to do this, move over to Barwych Hall itself because of that damned man. Oh, and this one. Gil.
She didn't want to. The circumstances didn't exist on the face of the earth in which she wanted to. Live beneath the same roof as Gil Gressingham, never mind anything else, when she loved the monk's cell? But the way Devorlane Hawley was sneaking about, the fact she had caught him in her bedroom, gave her no choice. It was that or have Gil there. Not in a year of Sundays. Sermons on every one of them too. What other choice did she have here?
If he hadn't insisted on the soiree, perhaps she might. What was it? A trade off? His silences for her presence. Or a moving of things to an entirely new level? Cass had no idea. But if he wanted to play this dirty game, without even possessing the common decency to wear kid gloves, he'd find her one whole move ahead. She wasn't London's premiere jewel thief for nothing. Did he really think she couldn't maintain the front here, the fa鏰de that she and Gil were man and wife--just not in the monk's cell?
She would, but she still wasn't going to that soiree. Not if Starkadder himself rose from the grave and stabbed a bony finger in that direction. When she was going to be sneered at again by fancy-pants Hawley? And this all slid further down the slope she was determined to keep a foothold on? Not bloody likely. Not even if she stood on the drop and it was her last request. Chance for a reprieve rather. So here was safer to operate from until she could prove who she really, truly was.And Gil? Well, she'd just have to handle Gil. It was a small price to pay.
She stooped down and snatched up the glove she'd dropped on the rug. "Yes. Devorlane Hawley is snooping. I just caught him in my bedroom."
She did have a duty to warn them after all. Weren't they all in this together?
"Bleedin' told yer I should of swung for him last night. The weaselly, soddin'-nosed snout." Last night was unfinished business. If that clang of cutlery was anything to go by, in the near future, Ruby's heels would happily dangle. "Startin' ter unravel a bit though, don't yer think, Saff? I mean yer bedroom ain't a place for that soddin' toff ter be."
"Oh, I dunno." Gil glanced up from his seat by the roaring fire. "Someone must have misdirected him."
"If they did, it was because someone else put their size twelve feet in it last night. Saying I was things I'm not." Cass threw the glove on the pile. "However, I think this time Lord Hawley knows he went too far. I caught him red handed. And he ... let's just say in some ways maybe the bedroom was the best place to catch him in that respect."
"Not for him. The soddin' all he'd get there. Eh, Rube? Don't you think? I mean, don't you think knowing our Saff here, as we all do know her, how, well-"
"You never let me finish."
"Don't see there's any need for me to go wastin' breath doing that, not when whot I got left me is whot you might call precious and the day will come soon enough when I ain't going to be fearin' no more the heat of the there them sun and all, 'cos see, six feet under's whot I am going to be. Well, don't you think? I mean it's not like we all don't know our Saff here's hardly in the market for giving him a ... Well ..."
Humiliation scorched to her hair roots. "Just because I'm not, doesn't mean I can't. All right? Do you honestly think me and Rube, there, haven't planned this?"
Well, did he? Which was why, that barb, now he sat, pallid as a specter on her chair-never mind her hopes and dreams-was another dent in her severely pranged armor?
"Your plannin' looks sort of less than square to me. In fact, it looks bent. Yeah. Now, I know there's them whot will say that's because I'm shortsighted, see? Always was. Which is why I'm going to say it for them. Save them the trouble. But are you tellin' me that this here place, this house, whot I do see and very nice it is too ... are you sayin' you own it? See? Whot I'm not gettin', if that is the case, is how come, you knew ole Nicodemus. Starkadder in other words? Cos, see, Nicodemus? he never owned no house like this. Women. Women were whot he owned. Ones that ... well ... had delusions of -what is the word again-grandeur. Yeah. Women that were delusional about themselves, about what they was from."
It was also a barb she'd bear. For the time being anyway. She needed Gil, as much as she needed to keep him at bay. Wondering what was in it for him would ensure that, for the time being too. Especially when so far she'd not found a concrete shred of proof. A gossamer one either. And her belief was founded solely on hidden memories.
Still she needed to secure it and she needed to secure Devorlane Hawley, without getting into bed with Gil to prove they were a couple. She jerked up her chin.
"Oh, I own it. It only requires proof which I will shortly have. But if you can't wait for that, the door is there. Be my guest."