“Not necessarily in that order,” Grey said. Now that he’d reached his destination, he looked ready to collapse. Even with Cassie’s help, he stumbled crossing the threshold.

“That is one of the less impressive dogs I’ve met,” Lady Agnes said as Régine trotted by her.

“But she has a sterling heart,” Cassie said. “Grey rescued her in France.”

“Don’t worry, I’d never dream of separating a boy and his dog.” Lady Agnes’s brow furrowed as she studied Cassie. “We’ve met, but I’m having trouble placing you.”

“We were introduced briefly at the wedding of Lady Kiri Lawford and Damian Mackenzie,” Cassie said. “No reason you’d remember me.”

“Miss Cassie Fox,” Lady Agnes said as she pulled the bell rope to summon a servant. “One of Kirkland’s dubious associates.”

“Very dubious indeed,” Cassie agreed as she steered Grey to a chair set in a corner of the small vestibule. Wearily she deposited their saddlebags on the floor.

“Sorry, I meant no insult,” the headmistress said, her gaze sharpening. “Kirkland’s associates tend to have exceptional abilities, which is surely why Wyndham is here. Thank you, Miss Fox, from the bottom of my heart.”

“He was imprisoned in a private dungeon in France,” Cassie said succinctly, thinking that was sufficient explanation for now. “I’ll be out of your way soon, but for now, add a surgeon to the list of Lord Wyndham’s needs. He was grazed by two bullets and needs treatment before the wounds turn septic. And send a message to Lord Kirkland. He’s been waiting for this news for a very long time.”

Lady Agnes nodded. “I’ll notify Wyndham’s family as well. They’ll be overjoyed.”

“Not … my family.” Grey’s head was tilted back against the wall and his eyes were closed. “They would come thundering down here and be horrified by my present condition. The news of my miraculous survival can wait until I’m more restored.”

“As you wish,” Lady Agnes said with reluctance. “Can you manage the steps up to a guest room?”

He thought a moment. “With a strong railing and Cassie’s help, yes.”

A capable-looking housekeeper arrived in the vestibule. By the time Lady Agnes gave orders for food, drink, and hot water to be sent to the blue bedroom, Grey was halfway up the stairs, doggedly hauling himself up by the railing one step at a time.

Cassie shadowed him in case he stumbled, but he made it to the top without help. Lady Agnes followed two steps behind, a lamp in her hand.

“To the left,” the headmistress said, moving ahead to light their way to a room down the corridor. She opened the door. “Note the richly patterned coverlet on the bed, designed not to show blood or mud stains.”

If Cassie had been less exhausted, she would have laughed. “Obviously Lord Wyndham is not the first wounded prodigal to arrive on your doorstep. But even so, you might want to put a dark blanket over the coverlet.”

“I’ve had other students return from the dead, but miracles never grow old.” Lady Agnes pulled a navy blue blanket from a chest and spread it over the bed. “But you’re right that Wyndham is quite exceptionally filthy. He never did things by halves.”

Grey was the next thing to unconscious when Cassie guided him onto the bed. As Régine jumped up beside him, Cassie squeezed his hand. “You’re safe now, my lord. It’s been quite an adventure, hasn’t it?”

He tightened his grip when she tried to pull away. “You aren’t leaving now, Cassie. You can’t.”

“Of course she isn’t leaving now,” Lady Agnes said briskly. “She looks almost as close to collapse as you, so she’ll be staying here also. There will be plenty of time for a proper good-bye when you’ve both recovered from your journey.”

Several servants bustled into the room with steaming canisters and trays. Leading them was an older man of military bearing and a woman about Lady Agnes’s age, but shorter and softer in appearance. Cassie guessed that these were General Rawlings and Miss Emily Cantwell, Lady Agnes’s colleagues in running the school.

Face working, the general clasped Grey’s other hand. “By God, boy, you’ve taken your time getting out of whatever trouble you found!”

Grey gave a breath of laughter. “I should have listened better to your lectures, sir. I had to be rescued by this lady here, Cassie Fox.”

The general turned to Cassie, his eyes gimlet gray. “Rather more than a lady, I think. You’re one of Kirkland’s lot, aren’t you? I look forward to hearing the tale.”

“Later,” Miss Emily said firmly. “These young people need rest and a good wash first. I also want to see what’s under those bandages.” She made a shooing motion at Lady Agnes. “Show Miss Fox to her room. We’ll take care of Lord Wyndham.”

Cassie was happy to transfer responsibility to these capable hands, but she felt oddly empty as she followed Lady Agnes into the room across the corridor. Two of the servants followed with hot water and a tray of food and drink.

Lady Agnes said, “I could order a tub, but my guess is that you prefer a quick wash, an even quicker bite to eat, and a very long rest. You’ll find a nightgown in that wardrobe. If you leave what you’re wearing outside the door, I’ll have the garments cleaned and pressed.”

“Most excellent.” Cassie buried her face in her hands for a few moments as she tried to collect her scattered thoughts. “The dye on Lord Wyndham’s hair will wash out with vinegar. The injuries are less than a day old. He says he heals well, but he was a little feverish on the channel crossing. The wounds need cleaning.”

“Anything else can wait till tomorrow. Rest now, child,” Lady Agnes said softly. “Your job is done.” Briefly she rested a hand on Cassie’s shoulder before leaving.

As Cassie stripped off her filthy clothing, she understood better why Lady Agnes’s lost lords loved her so much. No doubt Wyndham’s family loved him deeply, but that kind of love came with hopes, fears, and expectations. Lady Agnes offered love, warmth, and acceptance. And it even extended to dogs.

Limbs leaden and mind numb, Cassie folded her bedraggled clothing and set it outside the door, did a quick but much appreciated wash at the basin, then pulled on a soft cotton nightgown. After eating a piece of cheese on bread, followed by a few sips of wine, she crawled under the covers.

The mattress was soft and comfortable, but the bed was far too empty. She thought, with a sharp pang, that holding Grey in the fishing boat as they crossed the channel would be her last night with him. Viscount Wyndham, heir to the Earl of Costain, had been returned to his rightful rank. There was no place in his life for a spy with no name or reputation.

She must be grateful for what they’d shared. For Cassie the Fox, there was more work to be done.

Suffocating, falling into endless night …

Grey jerked awake, heart pounding. “Cassie, Cassie? Where are you?”

A wet tongue slurped his face. Shaking, he reminded himself that he was safely back at Westerfield. He’d been well taken care of and left to sleep, but now he wanted Cassie. She wasn’t far away, but he wasn’t sure where, and he was too exhausted to wander till he found her.

Besides, she deserved her rest, too. She’d practically carried him most of the last stretch of their journey. He must settle for Régine, who was burrowed under his right arm.

He forced himself to relax, not easy when he was craving Cassie. He’d known she was his shield and defender as he adapted to the world outside of prison, but he hadn’t realized just how much he needed her strength and calm intelligence.

He was weak and wrong to need her so much. But that didn’t stop him from wanting her.


Chapter 23

Grey was jarred awake by screaming. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, and to recognize the cries as boys shouting while playing some game outside.

He relaxed, remembering when he’d shouted on those same playing fields. Lady Agnes and General Rawlings were firm believers in young males burning off their energy in sports. There was a place for everyone on the teams, even the least athletic, and no bullying was allowed, ever, which made it better than any other school in Britain. Those had been good days.

He ached all over and the bullet wounds in his head and side throbbed painfully, but that was mitigated by the comfort of a soft bed and safety. He allowed himself to luxuriate even though the warm weight against his side was Régine, not Cassie. Ideally, they’d both be here; the bed was large enough.

He’d missed animals for so long that he’d almost forgotten the pleasure of their company. Perhaps he’d buy a small cottage like the one Cassie wanted and live there with numerous animals. And her.

He sighed, knowing the dream was impossible. Eventually he’d have heavy responsibilities that couldn’t be ignored. Worse, someday all too soon she’d vanish back into her mysterious, dangerous world. But not quite yet.

Régine made a small canine noise that made it clear that she needed to go outside and then eat and no shilly-shallying. “Soon, my furry little queen,” he said as he ruffled her ears. He was so tired that he could barely move. Partly relief at the end of his long journey, he supposed. Not to mention the amount of blood he’d lost. It would take time to recover from that. He’d have to eat plenty of beef.

Like Régine, he required both bodily relief and food, so he swung out of the bed. The long mirror on the wardrobe reflected a complete savage.

He vaguely remembered arriving at the manor, struggling to this room, then sliding into unconsciousness. Efficient hands had cleaned him up and dressed his wounds, and damned painful it had been, too. After the superficial blood and dirt were gone, they’d managed to get clean drawers on him.