Free The Conquest of Lady Cassandra by Madeline Hunter Page A

flower beds. Those plantings knew no restraintand possessed a lush, vivid beauty, much like Sophie herself.
    “Of course, not nearly as hot as that August that I spent in Naples. Goodness, I was naked the better part of most days, and all of the nights, back then, but still the heat was not to be borne. Although, perhaps it felt especially warm that month because of Leonardo.” She puzzled over it for a moment, then smiled to herself at the memory and returned to her book.
    Cassandra had never heard of Leonardo before. There had been other men who had made other months unseasonably warm for her aunt over the years, and Cassandra was enough aware of them to take mention of Leonardo in stride.
    She watched the pages of Sophie’s book turn with regularity beneath a few dangling curls of her aunt’s fashionably dressed, graying dark hair. Obviously her mind handled the content of that book perfectly. Nothing supported Gerald’s claim that Sophie’s faculties had become impaired. True, her aunt lived a peculiar, reclusive life now, but after all of the Leonardos, perhaps that was to be expected. A woman with such a colorful, energetic past might be tired by the time she reached sixty-four years in age.
    “Aunt Sophie, how much money do you have?”
    “Not enough to lend you any, dear.” Sophie did not even look up from her book. “That is what is meant when it is said one has a respectable income, as I do. There is enough for a decent, if modest, life, and even the occasional luxury, but never enough to make ill-advised loans.”
    “I do not want to borrow. I was thinking that if, between the two of us, we had enough, we might sail to the Continent before autumn sets in.”
    “There is a war on the Continent. Paris is out of the question, and I have no desire to visit Vienna now that Franz has married. It would be bad form for me to do so.”
    Franz was another Leonardo, a man from Sophie’s past. “Perhaps Naples then, or—”
    “I never thought I would say it, but I have had my fill of travel. Besides, I gave you most of my jewels, and there is little else to pawn.”
    “I believe it would be healthier if we went to the country, at least. Perhaps we can visit the lake district.”
    “I am touched by your concern for me, but you worry too much.” Aunt Sophie no longer read her book. Rather she peered over and read Cassandra. Her handsome face firmed while her eyes turned remarkably shrewd. “Your brother does not frighten
me,
Cassandra. He will never be so bold as to make a move. Should he find the courage to try, your mother will stop him.”
    Cassandra did not think they could depend on either of those assumptions. Gerald had developed an arrogance during the last few years that exceeded anything she ever expected to see. As for their mother—Aunt Sophie did not need to know how often Mama wrote letters scolding Cassandra for living under Sophie’s roof and influence.
    Cassandra patted her aunt’s hand, as if agreeing with her. The skin of that hand felt very thin and cool, and the hand itself frail. Sophie had aged rather suddenly, the way that women did sometimes when time caught up with them. The face under Sophie’s lace-edged cap still reflected the great beauty she had been, however, and her eyes, while paler now, often contained the sparks of wit and life that had made men by the score fall in love with her.
    Two years ago, Cassandra would have never doubted that Aunt Sophie could keep Gerald at bay with one withering joke. Today, however, that hand felt very small and her aunt seemed vulnerable, and indeed in need of care and protection.
    If the Continent was too risky, they would go to America. Cassandra thought she would not mind escaping England. The world was changing around her, and she felt herselfbeing nudged more and more to the edges of society. She tried not to mind that—she had all but asked for it, after all—but digging in her heels had become tiresome.
    Her aunt’s attention