by Regina Darcy
Cassandra, who was at this moment, awash with relief and gratitude, could only nod, hating that her eyes were filling with tears. She did not want to weep in front of him but this meant so very much to her that she could hardly prevent herself from sobbing aloud.
“Thank you, my lord” she managed to whisper, just as the door opened to admit the maids and the tea trays. “You are very kind.”
“I should be thanking you for your willingness and your dedication to my niece,” Lord Sherbrooke replied, with a warm smile. “I find that I am quite looking forward to returning home now. I feel a good deal more hopeful than before.”
Feeling almost the very same, Cassandra nodded and exchanged a small smile with Prudence. She had taken courage and spoken to Lord Sherbrooke and now it seemed her bravery had been rewarded. She would have time with the baby and time to work out what it was she could do next, once her short time with Lord Sherbrooke came to an end. It was more of a relief than she could express.
FOUR
One week later and Daniel found himself feeling quite reassured with his decision to take on Lady Packham as Josephine’s nurse. Since the very first moment they had arrived, the lady had doted on Josephine and spent almost every minute of the day with her – other than when she was sleeping.
Daniel had insisted that a maid should watch over the child during the night so that Lady Packham could rest. It would do no good, he had told her, if she were tired and exhausted during the day! Thankfully, Lady Packham had agreed without question, which brought him a good deal of relief.
Settling back into estate life had come rather easily – easier than he had expected, given the difficult circumstances that he had just experienced. His mind often went to his sister however, grieving over the loss of her and feeling his heart wrench whenever he saw the beautiful little baby she had left behind.
Even now, as he watched Lady Packham in the gardens with little Josephine on her knee, he felt a mixture of sadness and joy.
“Love,” he muttered darkly to himself, shoving one hand hard through his hair, as though the action might pull him from his misery. “What a foolish notion.”
He deeply regretted that he had been unable to help his sister realise that her feelings of affection and delight were nothing more than that – feelings. Emotions could not be relied upon, and certainly not when a gentleman was involved. Daniel knew all too well that gentlemen were prone to saying whatever they needed if it could secure them what they desired – that desire, when it came to Mr Pratchett, was his sister.
“My lord?”
Daniel blinked, realising that somehow he had made his way downstairs and outside into the gardens and was now walking directly towards Lady Packham and baby Josephine.
Now only a few steps away from her, he started violently, stumbling just a little. How had he managed to bring himself out here when he had no intention of doing so? Had his thoughts been so troubled that his feet had guided him without his knowledge?
“Lord Sherbrooke?” Lady Packham asked again, sounding a little cautious. “Are you quite all right, my lord?”
Clearing his throat, he looked at baby Josephine who was busy cooing over a flower Lady Packham held in her hand, just out of reach. “I do apologise, Lady Packham. I wanted to see how Josephine was doing today.”
Lady Packham smiled and Daniel was caught up in the delight on her visage.
Her eyes were warm and welcoming, her smile brightening her appearance entirely. He could not look away from her for a moment, finding her oval face and pink cheeks a little too alluring.
“Here, my lord.”
Lady Packham’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he found himself now holding baby Josephine. He looked down at her with a feeling of wariness. It was as if he was waiting for her to cry and wail, to break from her happy expression into one of sadness.
“You need not be so stiff,” Lady Packham said, gently, touching his arm. “Please, sit, my lord. Your niece knows who you are, I am quite sure. She may be only seven months of age but I think she is already very wise.”
He found himself laughing softly and, much to his delight, the baby smiled up at him – and his heart melted. Seating himself down carefully on the bench beside Lady Packham, he gently let the baby’s small fingers wrap around one of his own.
“She is so very precious,” he murmured, quite forgetting Lady Packham was there and speaking only to himself.
“How sad that she will never know her mother.”
“Indeed.” Lady Packham’s quiet voice caught his ears and Daniel immediately felt a flush of heat creep up his neck. He had not meant to speak aloud.
“And yet, Lord Sherbrooke, she has you and that will fill her life with all the love she will require – and more,” Lady Packham continued, gently. “To have such a doting uncle is a gift in itself.”
His heart squeezed almost painfully. Lady Packham was speaking kindness to his wounded heart, binding up the tears that had been there for so many years, ever since his dear sister had gone missing.
“Claudia would have been a wonderful mother, I am quite sure,” he said, hoarsely, feeling his emotions begin to rise within him. “I do so wish she had come to me earlier. I would not have turned her away.” His eyes flickered to Lady Packham and he saw no judgement in her expression, but rather one of consideration and understanding. He realised that he had never spoken to Lady Packham of the difficulties he had endured with his sister and found, much to his surprise, that he wanted to explain how he had ended up with Josephine, delving into the pain that already burned through him.
“You loved her very much, I think,” Lady Packham murmured, quietly, turning her face away as though to give him the freedom he required to let the agony show in his expression. “I am quite sure your sister knew that, my lord.”
Sucking in a breath, Daniel faced the wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm him, seeing it loom high and wide.
If he closed his eyes, he could still see her now, white-faced with eyes that burned with fever. He could still feel the touch of her hand on his, hating the moment that her fingers went limp in his.
“My sister ran from me,” he said, thickly, as Josephine cooed in his arms. “I told her that she was not to go to the man she loved, that she would never be allowed to wed him and, in defiance, she did precisely that.”
Lady Packham looked at him, her eyes swimming in sadness.
“I see. I am sorry for that, my lord. Did her husband treat her kindly?”
A harsh laugh erupted from his throat.
“Her husband did not, no. He left her alone and penniless, lying on a dirty bed in nothing better than a shack.” His voice trembled as he spoke but still he continued, unable to prevent himself from speaking of what he had seen.
“She was ashamed to write to me, to ask for my help. If she had only done so a few weeks earlier, then she might now be alive!” He bit back the groan that would have otherwise escaped his throat. Lady Packham held his hand tightly.
Without intending to do so, he grasped her fingers hard, battling against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Baby Josephine, now asleep in the crook of his arm, brought joy and pain to his already broken heart.
“I am quite sure that your sister knew you cared for her, my Lord Sherbrooke,” Lady Packham said gently, her voice filled with tenderness. “She wrote to you in the end and gave you the most precious thing she had, safe in the knowledge that you would care for her child. I am truly sorry that she was treated so terribly.”
There was something in her voice that told him that she somehow knew some of the agonies of being treated in such an appalling manner and yet Daniel could not find it in himself to ask her what she had endured. He had already said more than enough, surprised that he had spoken so openly about his sister’s passing.
“And what of the gentleman, my lord? Has he passed also?”
Closing his eyes, Daniel gritted his teeth as a wave of fury burst through him. That was his o
ne great regret. He had a name, yes, but he had not pursued the fellow in order to bring him to justice. As much as he wanted to, he had been forced to look after Josephine. She had been his first and only priority.
“I know the man’s name,” he grated. “Mr Pratchett. He has no title. The second son of a baronet, who squandered all that he had and used my sister for the money and jewels she managed to scurry out of the house when he came to take her away to Scotland. My sister thought she loved the man and that he loved her in return, but she was quite wrong on that count. I cannot express, Lady Packham just how furious that knowledge has made me. If I could, I would find him and tear him limb from limb for what he has done and yet….” His gaze shifted to baby Josephine, his anger slowly cooling. “And yet I cannot do so, not when I have this child to care for. I am doing all I can to ensure that she is my ward – legally, you understand. Even if her father was to make an appearance – which I do not think he will do since my sister assured that he was entirely unaware of her birth – I would have him thrown from the grounds without question, if not more.” His eyes glinted as he looked at Lady Packham, his jaw set. “That man is not worth the ground he walks on.”
“And yet he claimed to love your sister,” Lady Packham replied, hoarsely. “How could someone do something so cruel?”
Daniel’s lip curled. “Because love is nothing more than folly, Lady Packham. My sister claimed to love Mr Pratchett and look where it left her. No, love is nothing but a weapon that can be used to manipulate and defeat. I will never allow it into my own life, not after what has occurred with my sister.”
His passionate words became a dark cloud that sat heavily over them both in the silence that ensued. Lady Packham seemed to slump just a little, her expression morose. Her eyes were filled with grief and pain, her fingers pulling away from his.
Daniel felt the loss of her touch immediately, astonished to feel it rifle through him.
“I should take Josephine back inside,” she murmured, reaching for the child. “She will need to sleep for a time and the wind is a little chilly. May I?”
Unable to think of anything to say, Daniel handed the sleeping baby to Lady Packham, watching the smile on her face as she gently touched the girl’s soft cheek. His heart lurched and he found himself battling with some great, unwanted emotion that washed all through him.
“Good afternoon, my lord,” Lady Packham murmured, letting her eyes linger on his for just a moment before wandering back towards the house with baby Josephine in her arms.
FIVE
“The master would like you to dine with him.”
Cassandra looked up at the maid with astonishment, surprise rippling through her. “What did you say?”
Bessie, the maid twinkled her eyes at her. “The master wants you to dine with him, Lady Packham.”
“Oh, but I cannot!” Cassandra exclaimed at once, a flush blossoming on her cheeks. “It would not be proper.”
She had been taking dinner in her rooms on a tray ever since the day they had arrived, making sure to keep out of Lord Sherbrooke’s way. It had been a pleasure to spend time with baby Josephine and Cassandra had thoroughly enjoyed each and every day at the Sherbrooke estate but now to be asked to join Lord Sherbrooke for dinner seemed quite inappropriate.
The maid shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Lord Sherbrooke is having Lord Falconer for dinner, as well as Miss Lufton, his daughter. I believe you are requested simply to make up the numbers, my lady, that is all.”
Cassandra let out a breath. “Oh. I see.”
“Shall I lay out your gown for this evening, then?”
Cassandra nodded numbly as Bessie, her lady’s maid, began to do just that, humming as she went.
It had been a week since Lord Sherbrooke had come out to the gardens where she and Josephine had been sitting, a week since she had first heard the truth about Lord Sherbrooke’s sister, Claudia. Since then, Lord Sherbrooke seemed to have avoided her as much as he could and even when they did have a few minutes to converse, she would find his gaze darting here and there instead of looking at her directly, making her a little anxious that something was terribly wrong. She now worried that he regretted speaking to her so openly and, whilst she could understand that, she did not wish him to take back a single word. It had been obvious that he had needed to speak of the pain and grief in his heart and whilst she knew it had been difficult for him, Cassandra hoped that it had brought him a little relief.
What had saddened her was to hear just how he would not consider love, not for a moment. She understood why, for having lost a sister, the grief of that would be tearing into it – but to lay the blame at the feet of love was not, in her opinion, particularly wise. Love was wonderful, surely?
She had seen it between Prudence and the Duke and felt her heart long for such an affection. Yes, Miss Claudia had lost her heart to the wrong man and, from what Lord Sherbrooke had said, it appeared that Mr Pratchett had used his wife’s affections for his own ends, but that did not mean that all and every appearance of love could not be trusted, surely? She could not turn her back on the hope in her own heart that, one day, she might be able to find a man who would love her with everything he had, as foolish as that hope might be.
She so often forgot that she had nothing to offer the world, given that she had no home, no wealth, no dowry and not even her own clothes. It had been thanks to Prudence that she had been given these beautiful gowns which she now wore in Lord Sherbrooke’s home. Whilst Lord Sherbrooke insisted on paying her for the time she spent with Josephine, it would not be enough money with which to start life over again. To rely on her friend’s kindness for the rest of her days was more than Cassandra could bear. She would have to find some kind of work when her time with Lord Sherbrooke and baby Josephine was over. Mayhap she would have to become a governess.
“Here,” Bessie said, catching Cassandra’s attention. “This should do it, I think.”
Turning around, Cassandra took in what Bessie had laid out, thinking to herself that she might, in fact, look a little pretty this evening. “I thank you,” she replied, with a smile. “That will do quite wonderfully, although I will not be wearing any other necklace than my own pendant. Let us hope that Lord Sherbrooke approves!”
Something flickered in Bessie’s gaze. “Oh, I think he will do more than approve, my lady. I think he will consider you quite lovely.”
Blushing, Cassandra turned her head away and went to sit at the dressing table so that her hair could be dressed. She did not want to consider Lord Sherbrooke in such a light, aware that she was growing slowly closer to the gentleman with every moment they spent together. The way he had opened his heart to her, allowing her to see inside the pain and the grief had meant a good deal to her – and yet, she knew she ought not to feel anything for him. It was foolishness indeed to let her heart flicker even just a little with affection and tenderness. She ought not to care what he would think of her gown and yet, deep within her, she felt herself growing a little nervous with anticipation of what this evening might bring.
***
Some hours later and Cassandra regretted having ever felt any kind of excitement. This evening’s dinner had been nothing but an attempt by Lord Falconer to push his daughter, Miss Lufton, into Lord Sherbrooke’s affections. Lord Sherbrooke did not appear in any way inclined, however, barely giving the girl more than the occasional glance, although Miss Lufton smiled prettily and batted her eyelashes whenever he did so.
She was not much involved in the conversation, however, which was something of a relief. Lord Sherbrooke introduced her as ‘a friend of the Duchess of Essington’, quickly explaining that he was due to welcome the Duke and his wife to his estate very soon. Cassandra had felt herself blush at this, aware that there was a little awkwardness about her presence here but Lord Falconer said nothing. In fact, he did not seem to notice. The only thing the gentleman had asked her was if she was wed and, when she had said nothing, he had eyed her with a trifle m
ore interest than before. For whatever reason, that had unsettled her greatly, finding the dark-eyed, grey-haired gentleman to be more than a little disconcerting in his manner. Lord Sherbrooke had noticed this, however, and had immediately drawn the conversation to an entirely different topic, which Cassandra had been grateful for.
And now, she found herself longing for the time where she might be able to excuse herself. Lord Sherbrooke and Lord Falconer were still talking, with Miss Lufton perched on a chair next to Lord Sherbrooke, whereas she remained a good distance away, settled and hidden in an overstuffed armchair. No-one looked at her. No-one said a single word to her. It was as though she were invisible.
It did allow her, however, to study Lord Sherbrooke a little more carefully than she had permitted herself to do before. He was smiling at something Lord Falconer had said and yet the smile did not reach his eyes. There was something hidden in his expression, something she did not quite manage to make out. Was he not enjoying his time with Lord Falconer and Miss Lufton?
He is handsome.
The thought came to her mind, unbidden, and still, she could not shake it from herself. He was handsome, with his sea blue eyes and shock of dark brown hair that cascaded over his forehead. With his firm jaw, broad shoulders and a strong back, he had every appearance of strength and fortitude – and yet Cassandra knew one could never go on appearance alone. Baron Packham had not been unhandsome and she had found herself hoping for even a modicum of affection and yet he had turned into the very devil himself.
A shudder racked her frame for a moment and she suddenly felt rather faint, remembering how her husband had tormented her, threatening her with violence as though she, somehow, could find the reason for her inability to bear a child.
She pressed one hand to her stomach, lost in a whirlwind of fear as memories began to assail her. Was she never to have a child of her own? Was that dream gone for good? Being with baby Josephine had taken away some of the ache, some of the pain, but she would have to part from her soon and then would be adrift in the world, all over again. Her own husband had thought her useless, her brother refusing to so much as look at her when she had gone to him for help. Was that all she was? Useless and broken?