Chapter 201

Lionel eventually broke free of those restraining him and lunged at Edmund, managing to land several more punches before he was seized and restrained once again.

***

Their vantage point in the upper gallery offered a splendid view of the ballroom below, its broad balustrade overlooking the dancers and clusters of guests gathered beneath the glittering chandeliers.

Lady Sinclair had remained by Cassandra’s side for much of the evening, and whenever she was not keeping her company, the young Viscountess was occupied with ensuring that her first ball as a married woman went off without a hitch.

At just twenty, she was still young, and her enthusiasm for hosting such an occasion was apparent. As the daughter of a colonel, she had not grown up among the titled aristocracy, and the world she now found herself in was vastly different from the one she had known. Marriage had introduced her to a society whose customs, expectations, and unwritten rules she was still learning to navigate.

Nevertheless, she had managed to secure the affections of a Viscount, and tonight she was determined to establish herself in her new position. Eager to prove that she was worthy of her place among the nobility, eager to please.

Cassandra noticed how Lady Sinclair’s face brightened whenever they spoke. The young woman was anxious to leave a favourable impression, perhaps hoping to cultivate a friendship with a duchess. The knowledge that Draven and Cassandra had accepted her invitation made the evening all the more gratifying.

"I must congratulate you, Lady Sinclair," Cassandra said, turning towards her with a pleasant smile. All night, she had been very free with her compliments, especially to lady Sinclair. "Your first ball has been a great success. You have arranged everything beautifully."

The younger woman’s face brightened. "You are exceedingly kind, Your Grace. I confess I was rather anxious about the arrangements, but I am delighted that you have enjoyed yourself. Your praise means a great deal to me."

"I can imagine how much preparation it must have required. You have every reason to be pleased with the result." If the viscountess was truly longing to form a friendship, Cassandra would not discourage her efforts.

Lady Sinclair’s smile widened, and her gaze soon fell on the necklace resting around Cassandra’s throat.

"What a lovely necklace, Your Grace. It complements you beautifully."

Cassandra’s fingers rose to touch the necklace, unable to help herself. "Thank you. It was a gift from His Grace."

"How thoughtful of him. His Grace certainly has an excellent eye for lovely things."

"He does," Cassandra replied, her smile lingering.

It was not difficult to understand why the young woman was so keen to make a favourable impression.

Cassandra knew this world well enough to recognise how unforgiving it could be towards anyone who did not quite fit its harsh expectations. A woman might marry into a noble family and acquire a title, but that did not mean everyone would readily accept her as one of their own.

Some would welcome her, others would humour her attempts to fit in, and a few would seize upon every little misstep as an opportunity to remind her of the family into which she had been born as evidence that she would never belong among the upper class.

Lady Sinclair was young and inexperienced. Such qualities did not make her incapable, but they did leave her susceptible to the influence of those whose approval she valued. Cassandra did not doubt that there were people who might try to exploit her for their own gain.

She offered her another polite smile, keeping her observations to herself. There was no reason to make the girl self-conscious when she seemed so happy.

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion rising from the lower level.

At first, it was hard to make out the noise from the music, but the raised voices soon grew loud enough to draw the attention of those along the gallery. Lady Sinclair turned towards the balustrade, her pleasant expression giving way to concern. She stepped closer and leaned over the edge, attempting to see what was happening below.

Cassandra followed her gaze.

Several guests had begun gathering near the terrace doors, while others stood back, watching the disturbance like curious spectators. A commotion of this nature was unusual at a formal ball, and the growing crowd suggested that whatever had happened was no minor disagreement.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes, searching the thick cluster of guests for the source of the disturbance. Through the shifting figures, she caught sight of a familiar face. Edmund was struggling against the men attempting to restrain him. His evening coat was dishevelled and his attention fixed on another gentleman who was equally being restrained.

Cassandra wasn’t sure what had provoked the confrontation, but she recognised a physical altercation when she saw one. Edmund’s movements, the men restraining him, and the angry commotion surrounding the pair left little room for another interpretation.

A brawl at a ball, with her brother at its very centre.

Their mother, who was a stickler for propriety and the preservation of the family’s reputation, would be positively apoplectic if she could see what her golden boy was currently up to. The thought brought Cassandra a peculiar sense of delight, a surge of glee bubbling up inside her until the corners of her mouth twitched upwards in amusement.

The impropriety of his actions was inexcusable. Whatever led Edmund to exchange blows with another gentleman, he chose one of the worst possible places to lose his temper.

A public gathering hosted by a Viscountess was not a tavern or a private gaming establishment where such behaviour might be dismissed easily. It was an insult to the hostess and a disgraceful spectacle before everyone present.

After witnessing the hole her brother had dug for himself, Cassandra could only gloat. She was already entertaining several ideas for making an exceedingly bad situation considerably worse for him.

Beside her, Lady Sinclair was distressed and did not share Cassandra’s amusement. Her perfect ball was being disrupted by uncultured brutes.

Her fingers tightened around the balustrade.

"Oh, dear," she murmured. "What on earth is happening?"

"Shall we go down and see what has happened?" Cassandra asked innocently. Her companion must not have gotten a proper look at those involved, and so Cassandra took it upon herself to gently steer her towards the heart of the commotion.

Lady Sinclair straightened and nodded. "Yes. We must."

They left the gallery and descended to the lower level.

The closer they came to the disturbance, the angrier Lady Sinclair became.

Before they reached the tense gathering, Lady Sinclair stopped a gentleman who appeared to have witnessed the incident.

"Would you kindly tell me what has happened?"

"Two gentlemen got into a physical altercation, my lady," he explained. "It was quite a scene."

"Who are they?"

The gentleman glanced towards the terrace. "Edmund Ashford and another man, I can’t recall his name."

Cassandra stood beside Lady Sinclair, listening gleefully. At the mention of her brother’s name, the faintest smile touched her lips. She quickly concealed it, lowering her gaze as though this was new information.

Lady Sinclair dismissed the man and was silent for a moment, considering what to do. There was no list of instructions to guide her in a situation like this.

Finally, she glanced at Cassandra, still very conflicted.

Had this been any other situation, Lady Sinclair would have known exactly how to handle it: have the offenders escorted out of her home. But Edmund Ashford was no ordinary guest. He was Cassandra’s brother, and Cassandra happened to be the very woman Lady Sinclair wanted to befriend. The Duchess was a woman of considerable influence, admired and well-established within the aristocratic circles Lady Sinclair was so keen to enter. Offending her would hardly serve her interests.

Having her brother thrown out of the ball would certainly do little to endear Lady Sinclair to the Duchess. If anything, it risked undoing whatever favourable impression Cassandra might have formed of her.

Yet, as hostess, she could hardly stand by and do nothing.

Perhaps the simplest solution would be to have the other gentleman shown out while allowing Lord Ashford to remain. It was entirely possible that he had merely been defending himself, after all.

What Lady Sinclair failed to realise, however, was that Cassandra would have much preferred to see her brother thrown out.

Cassandra noticed Lady Sinclair’s hesitation. She could guess the direction of the woman’s thoughts.

She moved a little closer and took Lady Sinclair’s hand in a reassuring gesture, and like a devil perched on the woman’s shoulder, she said, "Such behaviour should not be permitted to stand. You must understand that there will always be people who mistake kindness for weakness, particularly when they believe someone is too inexperienced to challenge them. If you allow such insolence to pass without consequence, they will only become more comfortable repeating it."

Lady Sinclair turned towards her, listening attentively.

"You must establish the sort of authority you expect others to respect," Cassandra continued. "And there is no better time to begin than now. This is your home, Lady Sinclair. You are the hostess, and your guests ought to understand that you will not tolerate such disruptions."