by Regina Darcy
Table of Content
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
EPILOGUE
BONUS CHAPTER 1: A GAME OF CHANCE
KEEP IN TOUCH!
Copyright © Regina Darcy 2019
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher and writer except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a contemporary work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
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ONE
“Why can’t you give me children?”
Lady Cassandra Packham, the unfortunate second wife of Baron Edmund Packham, cringed as her husband thrust her hard against the wall.
“I need a son!” he roared in her face.
She shook her head, barely able to form a reply with her mouth. She was deathly afraid of her husband whenever he became like this.
“I – I am sorry, Edmund,” she whispered. “I do not know….” She trailed off when his eyes narrowed.
Her husband had been demanding that she give some explanation as to why she had yet to become pregnant five months after they had wed. She could find nothing to say. It was not as though she knew why, for, despite her husband’s continual attempts, no babe was in her belly. At the thought of what those attempts had recently cost her physically, her mind skidded away.
Steeling herself she focused on her enraged husband. He had recently started demanding to know the moment her courses started. She was growing more fearful with each passing month.
The Baron was unpredictable – Only the God Lord knew how he would react to finding out that his last attempt was unsuccessful yet again.
Staring into his enraged face Cassandra finally admitted to herself, what she had been denying for months, she terrified of her husband.
There’s was not a love match. She had not wanted to wed him. But given that her debut had produced no suitable match and that she was no incomparable beauty, she was left with limited choices. Three years on and she was becoming a burden to her brother and his family.
Truth be told she had longed for a family of her own. She had believed that once she‘d had children with the Baron, then her lack of affection for him would be of no consequence.
What she had not expected was for her husband to become so ugly in his frustration and anger. Did he not realise that she too ached with the agony of it all? That she too questioned why they had not, as yet, managed to conceive?
As she looked into her husband’s furious face, seeing it almost purple with rage, she realised that he cared for nothing but himself, for his own future and his own happiness. It was not as though he would love any child that came from her, not as though he would look upon it with affection and joy, but rather that he would see it as simply a continuation of his family line.
One child would not be good enough, either, but she would need to produce the ‘spare’ also, and heaven forbid she produced daughters instead of sons!
She felt herself quail as her husband continued to rail at her, spittle landing on her face as he raged on in anger and frustration. This was not the life she had planned, not the life she had ever thought she would be living. Whilst she had never expected affection, she had thought this would be a marriage of respect and understanding.
Apparently, the Baron was not the gentleman her brother had believed him to be. He did not care whether or not she longed for children herself, did not once consider whether or not she was finding her continued bareness to be a source of sadness.
“I am sorry, Edmund,” she whispered, soothingly, in an attempt to calm him. “I do not understand.”
His hand thumped the wall just beside her head, making her jump and squeeze her eyes tight shut, just waiting for the blow to fall.
“This is all your fault,” he hissed, his words shaking her to her very core. “I expected a young, fruitful wife. Now I am saddled with a barren, good for nothing woman who will not do her duty and give me the children I require!”
“It is not intentional,” she whispered, struggling to keep her composure. “Truly, my lord, I –”
Again, he slammed the wall with his fist, right next to her ear, and Cassandra felt herself shake.
“Next month,” he grated, darkly. “Next month, you will be with child, or it will be all the worse for you.”
He waited for one more moment, increasing her torment, before he stalked from the room, leaving her alone.
Cassandra slumped to the floor, her skirts pooling on the floor around her. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes filling with tears. Shaking, she brought one hand to her mouth to stifle her cries, knowing that if her husband was to hear it, he might then come back to her again. She did not want that.
Her whole body ached with agony. She longed for children of her own but now that longing was tinged with desperation. Her life would become more than she could bear if she did not conceive – but what could she do? They were doing all that was required, and yet nothing came of it.
Tears ran down her cheeks, and Cassandra made no attempt to wipe them away. She did not know whom to turn to. There was no-one she could ask for assistance.
Her brother did not want her in his house, not with his new wife, new title and new responsibilities. Without her husband, she had nothing. No money of her own, nowhere she might go, no-one she might turn to.
She was entirely alone and the reality of her situation terrified her to her very core.
“What am I to do?” she whispered to the empty room, as though it might have an answer for her. “Tell me, what am I to do?”
Two months later
“Miss Brighton?”
Cassandra looked up blindly, hearing someone refer to her by her maiden name. She had been walking through the streets of London without the slightest idea of where she was going or what she was to do, her mind scrambling for a way out of her misery. How could things have gotten so much worse, so quickly?
“Miss Brighton?” the voice said again. “It is you, Cassandra, is it not?”
A face came into view, bright and smiling in the midday sun. Cassandra’s heart lurched in her chest.
“Lady Prudence,” she exclaimed, astonished that the lady should recall her from almost three years ago when they had first met. “How good to see you.”
Lady Prudence, her face always so kind, smiled warmly at her.
“I am very glad to see you again also. I was a little concerned when you had to leave London so swiftly when we first met.”
Cassandra managed a tight smile. “My father passed away.”
Lady Prudence’s face fell. “Oh, I see. My condolences.”
“Thank you.” There did not seem to be much more to say and Cassandra felt her throat constrict. It was almost shameful to have to admit what had occurred these last few months and yet she found herself almost desperate to have someone to talk to.
“Oh, but I see you are wed!” Lady Prudence exclaimed, sounding quite delighted as she gestured to Cassandra’s left hand which was, to her shame, without her gloves. “When did the happy event occur?”
Cassandra closed her eyes against the flood of tears that threatened her. “My husband is lately gone from this earth, Lady Prudence.”
Lady Prudence gasped, one hand on her heart. “Oh, my dear Cassandra! How truly awful for you.”
A harsh laugh escaped Cassandra’s lips despite herself. “It was worse to be wed to him, I’m afraid,” she admitted to her old friend. “I should be in mourning but I doubt anyone, in particular, notices my behaviour.” She pressed one hand to her chest, feeling the pendant beneath her gown. It was the only thing she had left that was worth anything, but she knew she would never sell it, not even if she was desperate. It had belonged to her dear mother and had been handed to Cassandra when she had come of age. By rights, it had become the property of her husband when she had married and now, to the new Baron Packham but she had never allowed him to either see it nor take it.
There was a short silence and Cassandra dropped her head, feeling embarrassment wash over her in waves. She ought not to have said a word. Somehow, she had let herself speak the truth without ever intending to. Perhaps it was simply because she was in the company of a lady she had once considered a friend, or perhaps it was simply because she was so desperate, that she could not help herself.
“Would you like to come for afternoon tea and a chat?” Lady Prudence asked, gently, putting one hand on Cassandra’s arm. “Shall we say, tomorrow afternoon?”
Cassandra nodded, never raising her eyes from the pavement underneath her feet.
“Perhaps a ride around Hyde Park first,” Lady Prudence continued, with a smile in her voice. “Where are you residing?”
Something died within her. She could not speak, her tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks.
“Cassandra?” Lady Prudence said, gravely, her voice filling with concern as she bent her head to try to look into Cassandra’s eyes. “Whatever is the matter?”
Cassandra shook her head, barely able to speak. “I have nowhere to go,” she admitted, eventually, shame filling her every pore. “My brother-in-law, the newly titled Baron, has thrown me from the house. I have nothing but the clothes I am wearing, that is why you see me without gloves or a bonnet.” Her cheeks burned but she continued on, unable to stop herself. “My own brother will not see me thanks to his new wife. I…. I am destitute.” The disgrace of it burned through her and she turned away from Lady Prudence, quite sure that her friend could not or would not wish to spend another moment with her. There was nothing quite so shaming as having fallen from title and wealth.
“Come with me.”
Lady Prudence’ hand was on her shoulder and Cassandra stopped in her attempts to walk away.
“There is a good deal on your mind, is there not?” Lady Prudence said, gently. “You have been treated terribly and I cannot let you go on alone. Come, you are to stay with me for as long as you need.”
Cassandra, overwhelmed by her friend’s kindness, cried all the more, sobs shaking her frame.
“Oh,” Lady Prudence continued, as she led Cassandra briskly towards her waiting carriage. “And I have wed also. My husband is the Duke of Essington.”
Stumbling to a stop, Cassandra looked up at her friend through tear-filled eyes, feeling all the more humbled. “You are a Duchess?”
Lady Prudence – The Duchess, as she was now – smiled gently. “But we are friends, as we not, and that transcends all supposed titles and the like. I will not let you alone, Cassandra. Please, come with me. I want to help you, truly.”
“I am grateful,” Cassandra whispered, pressing the Duchess’s hand. “I thank you, your grace.”
“Prudence,” the Duchess said, firmly, as the footman opened the carriage door for her. “And have no fear, Cassandra. You are no longer alone, I promise.”
No longer alone.
Those words finally brought a small flicker of hope into Cassandra’s heart as she climbed into the Duchess’s carriage, barely able to believe that this was occurring.
She had thought, only a few minutes ago, that she would be forced to go to the poorhouse where, no doubt, she would be treated with all contempt and scorn for being a lady of quality forced to go to begging for help. Now, she had been saved from such a terrible fate, thanks to her meeting with Prudence.
“You are very kind, Prudence,” she replied, as the carriage began to roll along the cobbled streets. “Thank you.”
TWO
“Whatever am I to do with you?”
Daniel, the Earl of Sherbrooke, looked down at the sleeping child he held in his arms. He had very little idea of what to do with the baby girl and yet could not draw his eyes away from her. His heart was struggling between grief and overwhelming affection for the babe he had only met two days prior when he had gone to the aid of his sister.
A sister who had died, leaving Daniel to deal with the child she had left behind. A sister who had married a gentleman of meagre means because she claimed to love him.
That pained him still.
Having spent the last two years having very little idea of where she was or what had become of her, his heart had ached incessantly, fearing the worst. He had promised his parents that he would always protect Claudia, given that there was only two of them in the world, and yet she had run from him into the arms of a man who had proven untrue.
He still had the letter on his person. Putting his hand to his breast pocket for a moment, he heard it crinkle beneath his fingers, his heart breaking all over again. How desperate Claudia had sounded, alone and afraid. She had begged him for help and he had gone at once, unable to turn from her when she needed him the most – but it had been too late.
Alone, ill and penniless, in an old decrepit tenement, his sister had cried out to him and he had made it to her side in time just in time to watch her pass from this world. With her last few breaths, she had made him promise to take care of her daughter, only a few months old, and he had done so without hesitation. With only a grubby piece of parchment to tell him the child’s name and birth date, he had swept the babe up in his arms and held her close, tears burning in his eyes.
His sister had been buried the very same day, in a small church graveyard with only a small marker to remember her by.
He would arrange for a gravestone once he had returned home, but he did not think he would ever go back to that place, not after what he had seen there. Not after the dark memories that would haunt him.
And now he was returning to his estate with no knowledge of what he was to do next. He would need a nurse, of course, but where did one find a respectable nurse with the gentleness and tenderness he would require for his niece? For heaven’s sake, he did not know what it was he was meant to feed the child, given that he had managed to give her but a few bits of bread and the like during their travel to London.
“Thank goodness for the Duke,” he muttered, praying that his friend, the Duke of Essington, would be able to provide him with some kind of insight into what he was to do. The gentleman had married only a few months, he had heard, which meant that perhaps the good lady of the house could help him take care of the child whilst he made the necessary preparations for his return home.
“Here we are, my lord.”
One of the footmen opened the door and set down the steps. Taking the greatest care, Daniel made his way carefully down to the pavement before looking up at the house in front of him. Finally, he was here. Finally, he would be able to receive advice and help as to how to care for this precious, precious child. That filled him with so much relief that he felt like weeping, the grief and pain of the last two days overwhelming him.
“Come then, little Josephine,” he crooned, looking down at the sleeping girl’s face. “Let us go and see what we can do for you.”
Making his way up the steps, Daniel stepped into the grand house and was immediately greeted by the butler. The man looked perplexed.
Daniel realised that it would be rather difficult to take off his coat and gloves whilst he still held the baby. He was not quite sure how to d
eal with this problem, stammering a little as the butler cleared his throat, looking quite confused.
Then, the door opened behind him to admit a beautiful young lady who was talking to another young lady following just behind her. A little nonplussed and feeling rather awkward, Daniel stepped to one side and saw the first young lady catch his eye, her smile fading for a moment before she realised who he was.
“Ah, Lord Sherbrooke, I presume,” she said brightly, handing the butler her bonnet and gloves. “I am the Duchess of Essington. How do you do?”
He inclined his head. “Well. Very good to meet you, your grace. Thank you very much for your hospitality.” The baby stirred in his arms and a slight fear curled in his belly as she let out a small cry. “As you can see, I am a little at a loss as to what to do in my present circumstance.”
The Duchess’s expression softened. “Yes, I can quite understand. I –”
The baby began to cry again and Daniel tried rocking her gently, his desperation growing. He was entirely useless when it came to caring for his niece, having been unable to even remove his gloves with her in his arms. A footman made to step forward but, before a word could be said, the second young lady drew closer.
“May I, my lord?”
Daniel looked at her, seeing large brown eyes that were a little red-rimmed, a tumble of gorgeous chestnut brown hair that was only just held back. She appeared almost sorrowful, a weight about her shoulders as she drew near. He did not know what it was about her that instantly gave him a sense of confidence in handing the baby over to her, but he found himself drawing closer to her almost immediately. The lady was not looking at him but rather at the whimpering babe in his arms, her expression tender and soft.
“I do apologise,” the Duchess said at once. “Lord Sherbrooke, this is my dear friend Lady Packham.”
“A pleasure,” Daniel murmured, as he carefully placed the baby into Lady Packham’s waiting arms. He stepped back, feeling both relieved and a little uneasy as baby Josephine was held gently against Lady Packham’s shoulder. He grew astonished when the baby stopped crying almost at once.