It was the duty of others to produce heirs to carry on the blood. Quentin’s time had come. And Quentin would be here tomorrow.
“This is such a grand room,” Cassidy said at his shoulder. “So many books. Are they all yours?” She moved away again. “I collect poetry, but I haven’t seen this one.” Pages ruffled.
“With thee conversing, I forget all time, All seasons, and their change; all please alike. Sweet is the breath of mom, her rising sweet, With charm—”
” Stop.”
The book thumped back into place on the shelf. “I’m sorry,” Cassidy said. “I shouldn’t have touched your books.”
Braden unclenched his fists and let out his breath. “They were my mother’s,” he said. “She died when I was a boy.”
“She must have been beautiful,” Cassidy said. “You must have loved her very much.”
All at once she’d gone from backward child to earnest comforter, as if she had a right to impose her assumptions and naive solace on him. He turned his back on her, letting the force of his will convey the displeasure he could not express in words.
She must have felt it; she was far too sensitive not to. But instead of retreating, she drew closer still.
“I don’t know much about my mother’s side of the family,” she said, very low. “I want to learn. About what you did when you were a boy, and what it was like to grow up—with people who understood.”
People who understood. He stepped away from her sharply. “You will learn,” he said. “You are a Forster now. The past is gone. Cousin. Remember that.”
“I will.” Her voice was humble but far from submissive, filled with an unfamiliar warmth. “All I’ve ever wanted is right here. You’ll never be sorry you took me in.”
No, he would never be sorry. But what he wanted or felt was irrelevant to the Cause. What any of them wanted or felt was irrelevant.
One of the maids came to the library then, sparing him further speculation.
“Cousin,” he said, “this maid will show you to your room. Let her know if there’s anything more you require.”
She didn’t move. “Don’t you think you could call me Cassidy?”
“Very well… Cassidy. You may retire.”
“And what should I call you?” she asked.
“You may call me Greyburn.”
“Greyburn,” she said in her American drawl. “It’s a different kind of name. Like mine.”
He was in no mood to explain his title, of which she plainly remained ignorant. Time enough for that in the morning, when his mind was clear. “Go to your room, Cassidy.”
“I’m grateful, Greyburn—truly I am. But first I have to talk to Isabelle.” Her voice grew serious. “She’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I can’t just leave her this way.”
So much for her assurances of obedience. But she never had promised that, had she?
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said. The warmth of her breath on his skin gave him an instant’s warning, and then her soft lips pressed his cheek. He flinched.
“Cassidy,” he said sharply.
But she was already out the door.
Three
The hansom driver didn’t so much as raise his eyebrows when Isabelle announced her destination. Perhaps he believed she lived in the haunts of the very rich, though few respectable women would travel alone at such a time of night. Or perhaps he had other, less savory theories.
Isabelle didn’t care. When she’d awakened well after midnight to find Cassidy gone from her bed in their hotel room, she could think of only one place to turn for help in finding the girl. The earl of Greyburn might reasonably be expected to use his influence to find Cassidy, once he realized that she was his cousin.
The sound of hoofbeats on cobblestones had an oddly soothing effect, but Isabelle didn’t allow herself to relax. Soon she would be among people far less honest than those she had dealt with in San Francisco.
Werewolf aristocrats. Surely a most dangerous combination.
It was difficult not to panic at the thought of taking them on—she, who had fallen so low.
She looked out the cab window and saw a woman alone under the light of a streetlamp, lingering in the chill as if she were waiting for someone. Her clothing was far from fine, though relatively clean, and it was obvious that she was not a resident of Belgravia.