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Rolfe had had just about enough of her evasiveness.

“The King feels strongly that the city is no longer a safe place for you. Now, I would dearly enjoy spending the rest of the day getting acquainted, but we will have ample time for that once we are in Cambridgeshire. I do not think it will serve to help matters to do so now. It is only delaying the inevitable, my lady. So I would suggest that you find your maid—Lynette, I believe you said was her name—and set her to the task of packing your things for we will be leaving first thing on the morrow. I have taken the liberty already of sending a missive to your family seat in Cambridgeshire, alerting the staff that we will be arriving within the week.”

Her expression darkened further. “You presume too much, Lord Ravenscroft. You have no authority to give instruction to my staff.”

“On the contrary, Lady Cassia, I have been duly empowered by His Majesty King Charles.”

Cassia stared at him. She did not attempt any further argument.

Her face was expressionless, but her eyes gave slight indication of the anger she was practiced at suppressing.

They narrowed coldly. She was obviously unaccustomed to having a man refuse her.

And, judging from her irritation, she was also unaccustomed to being told what to do.

Well, she had better get used to it.

Lady Cassia still had not moved to summon her maid. She remained where she stood for several moments, as if quietly allowing Rolfe time to reconsider. It was something he had no intention of doing.

When she finally spoke, her voice was markedly softer. “Do you not wish to know if I did it, my lord, if I am truly guilty of murdering my father?”

Rolfe studied her. What game did she play now?

“Whether you are responsible for the death of your father or not is of no matter to me. I have not been sent here to judge you. I have only been sent here to take you to the country and to protect you from those who have already passed judgement upon you and who want to see you swinging from a gibbet.”

Lady Cassia's face paled at this last statement, her lips pressing into a firm line. “I will not hie away to the country like some frightened fool. Can you not see that it would only be like proclaiming my guilt?”

Rolfe conceded, “Your conviction is commendable, my lady, but I am afraid you have little choice in the matter. I stand by my duty to take you to Cambridgeshire. His Majesty has deemed it so and I mean to see his orders through. So, you see, your continuing attempts at changing the subject and skirting my intentions are futile.”

“We shall see about that, Lord Ravenscroft.”

With that, she turned, black silk skirts rustling on the floor.

“Lynette,” he heard her call once in the hallway.

“Yes, milady?”

Rolfe smiled, pleased that she was finally coming to see reason. His pleasure, however, was short-lived.

“Please have Quigman call a hackney coach for me at once. I haven’t the time for him to hitch up the team.”

Rolfe moved to the doorway, watching while the lady took her cloak from the waiting hands of her maid and fastened it under her chin. She then turned, picking up a small, cloth-covered object set on a table before heading for the door.

“I shall return shortly, Lord Ravenscroft,” she called without looking back.

“Since you take your orders so seriously, you may retire to the parlor to wait if you wish.

Lynette will bring you some refreshment.

My father's wine cellar is reputed to be one of the finest in London, stocked with only the best burgundies and clarets. You may have your pick.”

She was polite, he'd give her that.

“That won't be necessary, my lady.”

“As you wish.”

Dismissing him, Lady Cassia headed out the door. She had nearly made it to the open door of the hackney coach now waiting for her at the curb when she noticed Rolfe following behind her. She hesitated.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I intend to escort you.”

She held up one kid-gloved hand, placed it against his chest and pushed. It was not overly firm, but enough to get her point across.

“Excuse me, Lord Ravenscroft, but let me assure you that I have been traveling around London by myself for some time. I did not have need of your protection before and I am not of the opinion that I need it now. I am an adult, not a child. I am quite capable of riding in a coach unescorted.”

Rolfe returned a shrug. “King’s orders, Lady Cassia.”

“I do not care about your orders, Lord Ravenscroft. I have tried to be polite, but like all men, you do not seem capable of taking a hint. Now I am forced to be blunt. Please take heed when I say that I will not suffer your presence any longer. You are boorish. You are far too forward. And you are rude. I find it increasingly difficult to believe you call yourself a gentleman.” She glanced behind him.

“Quigman, ah, there you are. Do kindly remove this man from the area at once, please.”

The groom, who was of impressive size but still not quite proportionate enough to give Rolfe pause, stepped forward.

Rolfe looked at him. “Quigman, my good man, I am sure you are quite used to heeding her ladyship's wishes. Let me assure you that if you value anything in life, you will think twice before acting any further.”

Rolfe lowered his hand to the hilt of the rapier that rested at his hip.

Quigman paused. He glanced at his mistress, uncertain as to what he should do next.

Rolfe turned to Cassia. “My lady, Quigman here seems a nice enough fellow. I should hate to have to run him through. And besides, you wouldn't want to be called responsible for the deaths of two men now, would you?”

She ignored him. “Quigman, would you please summon Freddy from the house?”

“My lady, I assure you that calling another manservant to try and somehow prevent me from going with you will only serve to complicate matters all the more.”

At this, Lady Cassia spun about. “ Winifred is my abigail, Lord Ravenscroft. Though she does tend to be a bit overprotective, I do not think she could do you any serious damage, particularly as you feel it necessary to threaten everybody with your—” she looked at his waist—” sword .

Why is it men feel they must bend the world to their will whenever they get a weapon in their hands?

I am not daft, Lord Ravenscroft. Since you are armed and you outsize me, and since you will not attend my request that you remain here, I have no other choice but to suffer your presence.

If it is all the same to you, Winifred will be riding with us.

There is still a modicum of propriety that must be followed.

Or would you have me driving about town in the company of a gentleman unchaperoned so that tongues can only further wag? ”

Rolfe fell mute, stunned. Here she stood, Lady Cassia Montefort, mistress to the king, publicly accused murderess, and she was concerned about the appearance of going about the city with a man unchaperoned? It was not to be believed.

Dante had been right on one account. The woman certainly was an enigma.

“By all means, my lady,” Rolfe said, holding out his hand to assist her into the coach.

It came as no surprise to him when she ignored his hand and climbed inside unassisted.

Minutes later, they were on their way, with the maid, Winifred, a stout older woman of seemingly German stock who glared at Rolfe from the corner of her eye, situated safely between them.

“Where ye be going?” the hackney driver asked. Having been witness to the earlier exchange, he seemed not at all certain to whom he should address the question.

Rolfe looked at Lady Cassia. “Well, my lady?”

She frowned at him before nodding to the driver. “To Whitehall Palace, if you please. And hurry.”