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She was dressed in a concoction in varying shades of blue, a veritable vision of eccentric loveliness.

Still she managed to carry a degree of the outrageous for which she was, no doubt, well known.

As Rolfe looked at her, he thought to himself that Cordelia was not what one would deem a great court beauty.

In fact, her features were somewhat plain, which, he surmised, was most probably the reason for her outlandish choice in dress.

It was a way to stand out among the other fair flowers in Whitehall’s gardens.

It took Cordelia but a brief moment to recover. “Lord Ravenscroft, I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you this evening. Surely it wasn’t this dreadful masque that brought you all the way to the palace. And I don’t see Cassia. Is she not with you as well?”

“No. When last I left her, Lady Cassia was abed, safe in the arms of Morpheus, dreaming, I’m sure, of finding new and clever ways to outwit me and make me look the fool.

Scheming does tend to tire one, I would think.

I am curious though, Lady Haslit. Pray, tell me, why is it that you are not participating in this evening’s masque?

After seeing firsthand your innate acting skills this morning, I would think your presence would definitely enhance this evening’s performance. ”

Cordelia smiled at him, patting back a stray dark curl.

“Why thank you for noticing my talents, Lord Ravenscroft. Somehow I do not think you deserted your duty to the king in guarding Cassia to come here this evening and discuss my missed calling for treading the boards. Cassia tells me that your dedication to duty is most important to you.”

“You are correct in that, so I need not tell you it must have been a matter of great import for me to have come here at all, leaving Cassia at Seagrave House. To cut right to the point, I was hoping for a private exchange with you. About your friend.”

Cordelia looked at him. She was clearly trying to decide whether he was being sincere. After a moment, she motioned for him to follow her.

Together they slipped from the Banqueting House through a small side door employed more for the use of servants than for guests.

Rolfe followed the lady along several hallways, past an inebriated courtier lying face-down in a puddle of his own vomit, to a small alcove set off from the main walkway in the Privy Garden.

They were alone.

“Lord Ravenscroft, I do hope you realize I am risking my unsullied reputation in being here with you. I am a married lady, you know.”

Rolfe grinned. “Somehow I think you might like a little scandal attached to your name, Lady Haslit. Had you been so concerned for your—what did you call it?— unsullied reputation, I should think you very easily could have taken us to a more public place for our discussion.”

“Touché, milord,” she replied. “Although, somehow I don’t believe you brought me here for the purpose of exchanging witty retorts.”

“You are correct.” He looked at her. “I was hoping you might answer some questions for me,” he paused, “about Lady Cassia.”

The instant he said her name, he could see Cordelia’s defenses come to the fore. Her voice stiffened and her eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to know about Cassia?”

He tried a direct tactic. “It would be safe to assume that you do not believe she killed her father, do you?”

Cordelia scoffed. “Of course she didn’t. Although, if she had, I certainly wouldn’t fault her.”

Rolfe found himself curious. “Pray, why is that, my lady?”

Cordelia regarded him a moment, as if trying to decide what, if anything, she should reveal to him. “I just don’t know ...”

“I promise you I only seek to help her,” Rolfe said.

Cordelia hesitated another moment, then came to her decision. “Before I tell you anything about Cassia, you must look me straight in the eye and tell me why you want to know.”

Rolfe looked at her, his gaze unwavering. “Because I do not believe she is guilty of killing her father either. And I plan to help prove it. But, in order to do so, I must know more about her, things about who she is, such as why she is so reluctant to show her feelings.”

Cordelia studied him. “All right. I do believe you are only trying to help her so I will tell you what I can.”

She took a seat on a small stone bench in the shadows, motioning for Rolfe to sit beside her.

“You must understand, Lord Ravenscroft, Cassia’s manner of withdrawing into herself is a means of protection that she has spent her life perfecting”

“Protection? From what?”

“From her life, of course.” Cordelia sighed. “You see, Cassia left England at a very early age with her mother, following the English court into exile. That is where I first met her. Her mother was a lady-in-waiting to King Charles’s mother, Queen Henrietta, before the wars broke out.”

“Well you certainly do not seem to have been forced into this same behavior, Lady Haslit. Weren’t you taken off to France as well?”

“Yes, but my situation was entirely different. You see, I come from parents who had been given the privilege of marrying because they had fallen in love with each other. Cassia’s parents came together as an alliance, a business deal.

Two families, and a monetary transaction arranged and settled upon even before her mother had left the schoolroom.

Unfortunately, when Cassia’s parents did finally meet, shortly before they were to wed, they did not suit.

Far worse than that, I believe Cassia’s mother actually hated Lord Seagrave. ”

“But that is not uncommon among society marriages.”

The young woman inclined her head in agreement.

“Normally, you are right. Marriages are arranged over tea in the country most every day—look at my marriage to Percival, for example—but this one was different. You see, Cassia’s mother was in love with another man.

She detested Lord Seagrave for ruining any chance of that match.

I have heard it said that on their wedding night, she even tried to deny him his marital rights. ”

Rolfe looked at her, sensing there was more. “And?”

“And Lord Seagrave forced himself upon her. As was his right. She was his property and how dare his property refuse? It has been remarked that at the bridal breakfast the following morning, in front of both of their families, she wore a gown cut purposefully low so as to show everyone the bruises on her body given her by her bridegroom.”

“I was already told of Seagrave’s alleged abuse of his wife. I was not aware that he had raped her.”

Cordelia looked at Rolfe, her expression mildly surprised. “I am encouraged to hear you call it rape, Lord Ravenscroft. Many men wouldn’t consider it so.”

Rolfe frowned. “Anytime a man forces himself upon a woman unwillingly, it is rape, Lady Haslit.”

Cordelia nodded, seeing him more openly.

“I assure you that was not the only occasion of it, either. Lord Seagrave was determined to beget an heir to carry on the Seagrave line, and his wife was just as determined that he should not. His assaults on his wife continued until he was assured she was well with child. He expected a son. The Monteforts were quite adept at siring sons, just not adept at keeping them alive. Lord Seagrave did not hide his disappointment well when the child born to him was a daughter.”

She went on. “After Cassia was born, as a means of punishing her husband, Lady Seagrave embarked on a new career—that of occupying whichever bed would help her to rise at court. And so he would never know whether any child she might have was truly his. That is how much she hated him.”

“And what did Seagrave do in the meantime?”

At this, Cordelia shook her head. “Sadly, I believe that Lord Seagrave actually loved his wife, at least as much as he knew what love was, but somehow that love translated itself into abuse when he found he could not control her. Meanwhile, during our years in France, Cassia’s head was filled with her mother’s hatred for her father so that when we returned to England with the new king, she honestly thought a horned demon with forked tail would be waiting on the shores to meet them.

When her mother died, after making her husband a laughingstock in the worst of all possible ways, it seemed as if Cassia’s fears about her father proved true.

Lord Seagrave took to the bottle. When he did, he would rant at Cassia, talking to her as if she were her mother, even going so far as to call her by his late wife’s name.

It was then Cassia became the one who had to bear his abuse, at least in the physical sense.

” Cordelia looked at him. “I know this to be true, Lord Ravenscroft, for I, myself, have been witness to the bruises.”