A Flight of Fancy by Laurie Alice Eakes Page A

genuinely involved with men who had already demonstrated they would not hesitate to kill. And if he got in the way of a pistol ball or a knife, his uncle would inherit title and lands.
    “Have you not considered that people will recognize me in Lancashire?” He tried to dissuade them at one point with utter logic.
    “How often have you been there since you were eight years old?” Bainbridge returned.
    A direct hit. He had been sent to school at eight years, then went to university, then was either in London or in the Dale or, for a few weeks before he learned of his brother’s death, in Devonshire. Yes, he resembled his mother, but that could be disguised easily for men who were not necessarily Lancashire men, or even locals who saw what they expected to see.
    What they would expect to see would be the earl dressed like a gentleman, clean-shaven and young. A dusting of powder in the hair, a few days’ growth of beard, and rough garments, and even he admitted it was unlikely for anyone to know him.
    Once the men finished giving him his instructions, they too slipped out of the taproom—the two soldiers, then Lord Bainbridge. Whittaker remained staring into the untouched glass before him until the candle guttered on its chipped saucer of a holder and the barkeep began to give him glances of annoyance. Then he rose and walked into the damp and chilly September night and paused beneath the gallery, allowing the mist to wash away some of the smoke stench from his clothes and hair. Nothing would wash the stain of family dishonor from his heart.
    Above him, someone paced along the boards, a hesitant,dragging step accompanied by a thud. An old person with rheumatic joints keeping them awake, or someone with an injured—
    His head jerked back. “Cassandra?”
    He headed for the steps. She was outside. She was alone. If he could talk to her when she was by herself, look into her beautiful eyes—
    A hand landed on his arm, an elegantly gloved hand with a firm grip. “You are not going up there,” Lord Bainbridge said.
    “Unhand me.” Whittaker pulled his arm free but held his ground. “I should call you out for what you said about my mother, but you are more than twice my age.”
    And it was most certainly not the Christian action to take.
    Bainbridge chuckled. “I would not take the challenge.”
    Above, the footfalls had ceased. Because Cassandra had gone into her room at the sound of voices, or because she was listening? He prayed for the latter. To know she still cared enough to listen helped ease the pain of losing her.
    “I will be rather good with pistol and rapier if I continue to practice,” Whittaker pointed out. “Father saw me well-taught in the event I chose the military life.”
    Above, a footfall dragged. A door opened and closed. Cassandra gone inside beyond earshot.
    Whittaker turned on the older man. Though his voice remained low, his tone held savagery. “How dare you blackmail me into risking my life? If I thought I did any good in the spring, I’d have gone willingly without you fouling my mother’s good name.”
    “Not such a good name, is it? And you have done worse than that to my daughter. She is practically a cripple and in constant pain because of your actions.”
    She hadn’t been protesting his advances in the carriage. Onthe contrary. But he would not blame her. He would take full responsibility.
    “I am still willing—” He stopped, realizing how bad that sounded. “I still want to marry her.”
    “And a fine dowry your estate and mills will need if you do not stop the Luddites from assaulting your property and destroying it further.”
    “Keep the dowry if that’s what it takes to prove to both of you I want her beyond anything else.” Whittaker swallowed. “Or is it my mother’s past that stops you from wanting the marriage now?”
    “Not at all. I’ve always known. I was with your father on that mission as an extremely junior attaché about your age. I know how