Free Return of the Runaway by Sarah Mallory

Cassandra begged Raoul to wait for her downstairs and twenty minutes later she joined him in the dining room dressed in her new yellow muslin. She saw his eyes widen with appreciation and was woman enough to feel pleased about it. They were alone in the room at that moment and as Raoul held the chair for her Cassie murmured her thanks again.
    â€˜The gown fits very well, monsieur , and the maid has promised to have my riding habit brushed and packed by the time we are ready to leave.’
    â€˜Good.’ He took his seat opposite and cast an appraising eye over her. ‘The woman in the shop was correct, that colour is perfect for you.’
    Cassie looked up, intrigued. ‘How then did you describe me to her?’
    â€˜A petite brunette with the most unusual violet eyes.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Cassie blushed. ‘Th-thank you, monsieur .’
    * * *
    Raoul berated himself silently. She thought he was complimenting her, but it had not been his intention. It was true he thought her beautiful, but he did not wish her to know that. Confound it, he did not want to admit the fact to himself. He gave his attention to his breakfast. He had told the truth, nothing more.
    While she was busy pouring herself a cup of coffee he took another quick glance. There was no denying it, she was beautiful. The lemon gown enhanced her creamy skin and set off the dusky curls that she had brushed until they shone. She had pinned up her hair, accentuating the slender column of her throat and her bare shoulders that rose from the low-cut corsage. His pulse leapt and he quickly returned his gaze to his plate. Strange how the sight should affect him. After all, he had seen her shoulders before, and more, when she had been bathing in the lake. But something was different. He looked up again. Yes, there was a thin gold chain around her neck from which was suspended an oval locket set with a single ruby. But it was not the jewel that held his attention, it was the fact that the ornament rested low on her neck, directing the eye to the shadowed valley of her breasts.
    â€˜You are staring at me, monsieur . Is something wrong?’
    Raoul cleared his throat.
    â€˜I have not seen that trinket before.’
    â€˜The locket?’ She put one hand up to her breast. ‘Until today I have worn it beneath my riding shirt. It is the last of my jewellery. I sold the rest to pay for my journey.’
    â€˜It holds special memories for you, perhaps.’
    Her hand closed over it.
    â€˜A portrait of my husband.’
    â€˜Ah. I understand.’
    * * *
    Cassie did not reply, but gave her attention to finishing her breakfast. It was better that he thought she loved her husband. She was now sure enough of his character to know he would not wish to seduce another man’s wife.
    * * *
    They left Reims looking every inch a respectable couple. The trunk was packed and strapped on to the hired chaise, Cassie made herself comfortable inside, and Raoul rode as escort on the long-tailed bay. Their journey continued without incident. Cassie had given Raoul sufficient funds to pay for their board and lodgings, they were civil to one another when they stopped to dine on the road, and Raoul made no demur about sleeping in a dressing room at the wayside inn that provided their lodgings for the night. Their fear of discovery receded, too, for whereas the soldiers at the bridges and gendarmes at the town gates might question a pair of ragged travellers, a wealthy gentleman and his wife roused no suspicions and they were waved through without question. However, she agreed with Raoul that they should take a more circuitous route and avoid the main highway, which was constantly busy with soldiers. Their journey was going well. Raoul was very different from Merimon, her first, rascally escort, and she knew she was fortunate that he was such an honourable man.
    Cassie wondered why, then, she should feel so discontented. Her eyes moved to the window and to