deferential curtsies, with an air of aplomb that conveyed the message that they were used to entertaining titled ladies practically every day.
The lady stood there for a moment, looking them over, then abruptly flung her arms wide and headed straight for Cassandra.
‘Darling,’ she said, enveloping her in a highly scented hug. ‘I have found you at last!’
The aunts shot her looks of enquiry, which Cassandra had to return with a shrug. For she had absolutely no idea why this lady was hugging her and calling her darling.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, disentangling herself from the lady’s perfumed embrace. ‘But I think you must be mistaking me for someone else.’
The lady cocked her head to one side, and gave her what Cassandra could only think of as a twinkling look. ‘You are Miss Cassandra Furnival, are you not? Daughter of Julia Hasely, third daughter of the Earl of Sydenham?’
‘Er…yes, I am, but…’
The lady gave a rueful shake of her head and heaved a melodramatic sigh, making Cassandra suspect the lady never did anything without considering the effect it would have upon an audience. ‘I suppose I should have been prepared to find you had forgotten me. Because you were, after all, just the tiniest babe when last we were in the same room together.’ She drew off her gloves and held them out in mid-air. One of the footmen sprang forward just in time to catch them as she let them drop. ‘Which was at your christening,’ she finished saying, looking around as though searching for something. ‘Your mother was a great friend of mine,’ she said, making for one of the chairs reserved for customers. ‘A very great friend,’ she said, disposing herself upon it gracefully. ‘I,’ she announced, with a dazzling smile, ‘am your godmother.’
‘Your Grace,’ gasped Cassandra, collapsing on to her own chair as she finally realised that this lady had, indeed, come to visit her. The Duchess of Theakstone, her godmother, was the only person from her past life who still corresponded with her. Even though it was only ever in the form of a note at Christmas and her birthday—hastily dashed off, to judge from the handwriting—she had treasured each and every one. For it was more than anyone else had done.
The Duchess laughed at this expression of Cassandra’s shock at finally meeting her in person. ‘I can see that I have taken you by surprise.’
Surprise? That was putting it mildly.
‘You have never once asked me to help you, but I have often wished I could. While Theakstone was alive, of course, it was impossible.’ She twisted her mouth into what, on a less beautiful woman, would have been called a sneer.
This statement only served to puzzle Cassandra even further. For one thing, the Duke to whom her godmother had been married had died several years ago. For another…
‘Oh, my dear, how perplexed you look,’ said the Duchess of Theakstone, with a challenging sort of smile. ‘As though you never expected me to lift as much as a finger.’
‘Ah…’ Well, no, she hadn’t. But the Duchess was making it sound as though somehow that view offended her.
‘Well, no,’ stammered Cassandra, ‘I would never have presumed so far. How could I, when not even my own mother was prepared to acknowledge me after I committed my Fatal Error? But it wasn’t only that…’
‘Oh? Then what was it, precisely?’ asked the Duchess, rather frostily.
‘Only that you don’t look…that is… I suppose that my mother must be considerably older than you. Well, she looked older than you last time I saw her, which was more than half-a-dozen years ago. So I don’t see how you could have been such friends.’
‘Oh, my dear, how clever of you to say just the right thing,’ she crowed with delight. ‘I am sure we are going to get along famously,’ she said, untying and removing her bonnet to reveal a mass of gleaming golden curls, not one of which had been flattened by the cleverly constructed confection.
Aunt Eunice sprang forward to take the exquisite bonnet before either of the footmen could crush it in their meaty great paws, and carried it reverently over to a hatstand, currently occupied only by a swathe of sprig muslin.
‘Thank you,’ said the Duchess. ‘Not only for taking such great care of my hat, but also of my goddaughter. I am so glad she found a safe haven with two such compassionate ladies.’ She looked at each aunt in turn and then at Cassandra in a way that somehow made her aware that she hadn’t effected a proper introduction.
‘This is my Aunt Cordelia,’ she said. ‘Er… Miss Bramstock, I should have said,’ she added, blushing.
‘Ah, so you are the one who caused such a stir by spurning Hendon’s offer and running off to set up home with your schoolfriend,’ said the Duchess, before turning to examine Aunt Eunice, who lifted her chin to stare back with some belligerence.
‘And this is, well, I call her Aunt Eunice,’ Cassandra said, hoping that this was not going to turn into the sort of confrontation that would send her godmother flouncing out in a huff.
‘Because you are so fond of her,’ the Duchess concluded for her. ‘Which is not surprising, when she has clearly done far more for you than any of your blood relations.’
Aunt Eunice subsided at once, murmuring her thanks and protesting that it was nothing.
‘Is there somewhere that my boys,’ said the Duchess, waving a hand at the two enormous footmen, ‘may take refreshments?’
‘Of course,’ said Aunt Cordelia with a touch of chagrin at the reminder she was forgetting her duties as a hostess. Once she’d sent ‘the boys’ off to the kitchen with a message for Betty to not only look after them, but also to bring tea and cake to the parlour for their guest, Cassandra and both her aunts took to their chairs and gazed at their visitor in an expectant silence.
‘Now that we are alone,’ said the Duchess, ‘we may get to the point. As I said, I am sure nobody could deny that you ladies have done my goddaughter a sterling service, up to this point. But now she needs someone with social standing to bring her out, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Bring me out? That is not possible. Not when I am ruined. Socially, that is, if not in fact. For I’m sure that Stepfather must have made everyone aware he would not let me set foot in his house when I went back to try to explain…’
‘Yes. And that he cut you off without a penny to your name, as though it was something to be proud of,’ put in the Duchess grimly.
‘Yes. And I don’t suppose even my mother has ever said one word in my defence…’
‘The poor creature was so browbeaten by that bully she married I don’t suppose she dared,’ said the Duchess.
‘No, she wouldn’t,’ said Cassandra, marvelling at how clearly the Duchess saw what had happened back then. She wondered if perhaps her mother had written to her, explaining, and asking her to help her only daughter… No, no, that couldn’t be it. Stepfather would never allow any kind of missive to leave the house without scrutinising it carefully.
‘But if I,’ continued the Duchess, ‘were to spread a rumour that it was all a plot he made up to swindle you out of your inheritance, plenty of people would be ready to believe it nowadays. Because,
