“They won’t draw attention to your absence.”

“Let go. I don’t like this.”

They grappled briefly, and he pinned her against the wall. “Another minute or two,” he said, panting with excitement. “I deserve it after the flowers and gifts I sent.”

Deserve?

“Did you think you were buying me with those?” she asked in disbelief.

“You want this, no matter what you pretend. With a body like yours … everyone knows it, just by looking at you.”

A nasty shock went through her.

He was groping at her breasts now, tugging hard at her neckline and shoving his hand inside her bodice. She felt a rude, rough squeeze over her breast.

“Don’t, that hurts!”

“We’re going to marry. What does it matter if I have a taste of it now?” There was a pinch at one of her nipples, sharp enough to bruise the tender flesh.

“Stop.” Fear and outrage jolted through her. Reflexively she grabbed his fingers and bent them back hard. He let go of her with a grunt of pain.

Their sharp breathing cut the darkness into rags. After jerking up her bodice, Cassandra lunged for the door, but froze as she heard his composed voice.

“Before you flounce off, give a thought to your reputation. A scandal, even one not of your making, would ruin you.”

Which was horridly unfair. But true. Incredibly, her entire future depended on leaving this room calmly, with him, and giving no hint about what had just happened.

Her outstretched hand curled into a fist and lowered to her side. She forced herself to wait, dimly able to perceive that he was straightening his clothes, doing something with the front of his trousers. Her lips were dry and sore. The tip of her breast throbbed painfully. She felt shamed and sweaty and utterly miserable.

Lord Lambert spoke in a light, casual tone. It chilled her that he’d switched moods like the flip of a coin. “There’s something you should learn, darling. When you tease a man into a state and leave him frustrated, we don’t take it well.”

The accusation bewildered her. “What have I done to tease you?”

“You smile and flirt, and sway your hips when you walk—”

“I do not!”

“—and you wear those tight dresses with your breasts pushed up beneath your chin. You advertise your assets, and then complain when I give you what you were asking for.”

Unable to bear any more, Cassandra fumbled for the doorknob. The door swung open gently, and she took a deep, desperate gasp of air as she left the room.

Lord Lambert fell into step beside her. Out of the periphery of her vision, she saw that he’d offered his arm. She didn’t take it. The thought of touching him made her ill.

As they headed back to the public rooms, she spoke without looking at him, her voice trembling only slightly. “You’re mad if you think I’d want anything to do with you after this.”

By the time they reappeared, Kathleen was discreetly searching for them. At first she looked relieved to see Cassandra. As they drew closer, however, she saw the signs of strain in Cassandra’s expression, and her face turned carefully blank. “Dear,” Kathleen said lightly, “there’s a sunrise landscape I’m thinking of bidding on—I must have your opinion.” Kathleen glanced at Lord Lambert as she added, “My lord, I’m afraid I have to reclaim my charge, or people will say my chaperoning skills are woefully lax.”

He smiled. “I yield her to your care.”

Kathleen linked arms with Cassandra as they walked away. “What happened?” she asked softly. “Did you have a quarrel?”

“Yes,” Cassandra replied with difficulty. “I want to leave early. Not early enough to cause gossip, but as soon as possible.”

“I’ll come up with an excuse.”

“And … don’t let him come near me.”

Kathleen’s voice was excessively calm, while her hand came to press tightly over Cassandra’s. “He won’t.”

They made their way to Lady Delaval, the evening’s hostess, and Kathleen relayed regretfully they would have to leave early, as the baby had colic and she wanted to go home to him.

Cassandra was only distantly aware of the murmured conversation around her. She felt dazed, a little off balance, the way she did when she’d gotten out of bed before she’d quite awakened. Her mind combed ceaselessly through everything Lord Lambert had said and done.

… everyone knows what you want … you advertise your assets …

Those words had made her feel even worse than the groping, if that were possible. Did other men look at her that way? Was that what they thought? She wanted to shrink and hide somewhere. Her temples throbbed as if there were too much blood in her head. Her breast ached in the places he’d gripped and pinched.

Now Kathleen was talking to Devon, asking him to send for the carriage.

He didn’t bother with a pleasant social mask. His face went taut, his blue eyes narrowing. “Is there something I should know right now?” he asked softly, looking from his wife’s face to Cassandra’s.

Cassandra responded with a quick little shake of her head. Above all, she couldn’t risk making a scene. If Devon knew how Lord Lambert had insulted her … and Lambert was in the vicinity … the results might be disastrous.

Devon gave her a hard stare, obviously not happy about departing without knowing exactly what had happened. To her relief, however, he relented. “You’ll tell me on the way home?”

“Yes, Cousin Devon.”

Once they were bundled in the carriage and headed back to Ravenel House, Cassandra was able to breathe more easily. Kathleen sat beside her, holding her hand.

Devon, who occupied the seat opposite them, regarded Cassandra with a frown. “Let’s have it,” he said brusquely.

Cassandra told them everything that had happened, including how Lambert had groped her. Although it was humiliating to recount the details, she felt they needed to understand exactly how offensive and insulting he’d been. As they listened carefully, Devon’s expression went from thunderstruck to furious, while Kathleen’s face turned white and set.

“It was my fault for not objecting more strongly at the beginning,” Cassandra said miserably. “And this dress—it’s too tight—not ladylike enough, and—”

“God help me.” Although Devon’s voice was quiet, it had the intensity of a shout. “You caused none of what he did. Nothing you said or did, nothing you wore.”

“Do you think I would let you go out wearing something inappropriate?” Kathleen asked curtly. “You happen to be well-endowed—which is a blessing, not a crime. I’d like to go back and horsewhip that bastard for suggesting this was somehow your fault.”

Unused to hearing such language from Kathleen, Cassandra stared at her in round-eyed amazement.

“Make no mistake,” Kathleen continued heatedly, “this is a taste of how he would treat you after the wedding. Except it would be a thousand times worse, because as his wife, you would be at his mercy. Men like that never take responsibility—they lash out, and then say someone else provoked them into doing it. ‘See what you made me do.’ But the choice is always theirs. They hurt and frighten others to make themselves feel powerful.”