her mind was clear and sharp. She pivoted slowly, dimly noting the audience, Joshua striding toward her, but ignoring them all. She was a fierce falcon now, and her prey was a rodent with sly eyes. She was hardly aware her legs moved and, when she spoke, she did not know her own voice.
“You disgusting, despicable viper!” Cassandra hissed in Lady Bolderwood’s smirking face. “Have you become so grubby that you must sully everything else too?”
Lady Bolderwood tossed her head. “You are so naive, Mrs. DeWitt.”
“The games you and your husband play in your bedchamber have distorted your view, Lady Bolderwood, and now you cannot tell what is real and what is not.” She stepped closer. The viscountess stepped back, so Cassandra stepped closer again. “How dare you mock and judge, you malicious, vile asp? How dare you let your own corruption pollute someone else’s honor? How dare you insult my grandmother?”
Lady Bolderwood screwed up her face, as Harry stumbled up to them. A strong presence warmed her side: Joshua.
“How dare you speak to me like that?” Lady Bolderwood snarled. “I am a viscountess and your better.”
“My better?” Cassandra scoffed. “You are not the better of the lowliest, filthiest worm crawling on its belly through the muck.”
“Here, don’t speak to her like that,” Harry broke in. “DeWitt, control your wife.”
Joshua pressed a firm hand to her waist. “Not a chance,” he said cheerfully. “She’s splendid when she loses control.”
“Leave,” Cassandra said. “Both of you. Now.”
“You are nobody, Mrs. DeWitt,” sneered the viper. “You cannot make us leave.”
“But I can.”
The Duke of Sherbourne.
Her grandfather was not a tall man, but as one of the most senior men of the age, he did not need to be. Harry, at least, was smart enough to duck his head in deference.
Also joining them were Arabella and Lord Hardbury, the Duke of Dammerton, and…was that the Earl of Treyford? Heavens. Arabella caught her eye and winked. Behold the vanguard of the DeWitt army.
The duke looked down his nose at Harry. “You are not welcome here, Bolderwood. Years ago, I told my son he should have called you out for your treatment of Cassandra, but Charles said he wearied of bloodshed and was glad you had cleared the way for her to marry a good man. I did not understand what he meant until now. You disgust me.” He looked the younger man over coldly. “Do not think I am too old to call you out myself.”
“Nor I,” proclaimed Treyford, causing a dozen heads to swivel in surprise. “I used to love a good duel. Something about the smell of gunpowder in the morning.”
Cassandra was starting to wonder if she had hit her head and this was a dream.
“No duels, please,” drawled the Duke of Dammerton. “Much better sport will be watching Bolderwood’s face on Monday when the court hears the full story of how he stole Mr. DeWitt’s personal letters, bribed witnesses to provide false testimony, and prepared to perjure himself. All in a feeble plot to defraud Mr. DeWitt of money, because Bolderwood is too feckless to pay his own debts.”
Bolderwood looked around wildly like a cornered fox, edging closer to his wife, his sole remaining ally. He saw Joshua and prepared to attack—Joshua raised an eyebrow and he fell silent.
But the one thing an aristocrat always had was his composure, and Harry’s did not let him down.
“Come along, Phyllis,” he said. “I grow tired of this ball. Let us seek more diverting entertainment.”
With a sharp look at Cassandra, Lady Bolderwood took her husband’s arm and they swept out through the hostile crowd.
Cassandra could not applaud, but she did clap her hands together once as she turned to check on her grandmother. The duchess stood still and straight, her eyes locked with those of the duke, the couple engaged in the kind of silent conversation that was possible after a marriage of more than four decades. Then Her Grace inclined her head and swept out of the ballroom, two friends and her husband in her wake.
With the drama passed, the audience dispersed.
Joshua still had his arm around her waist. “Well done, Mrs. DeWitt! I am very impressed.”
Giggles bubbled up in her. “I think your father offered to fight a duel over my honor. What on earth is going on?”
“Don’t tell anyone, but I suspect your grandmother put something in the punch.”
“That would explain why everything tonight is topsy-turvy. This is the exact opposite of the first night we went out together.” She began to