She cursed vividly and fluently to herself as she was ordered out of the card room again one miserably rainy day toward the week’s end. The women were sipping tea and doing needlework and busily cutting into ribbons friends and neighbors unfortunate enough not to be present.
Cassandra neither knew nor cared about the morals or finances of these subjects for gossip. She had come no closer to her goal than before, and things were looking decidedly grim. She was almost positive that the letter Aunt Matilda received today was a summons from Duncan to bring her home. She knew what that meant, and she dreaded it with every fiber of her being. She could not imagine anything worse than being Rupert’s wife.
Passing by the library door, Cass heard her name mentioned and could not resist hesitating to see who was speaking. If she could only find Wyatt alone, perhaps she could make him understand the desperation of her plight. She was more than certain he had no love for Catherine, or she for him. More than once she had heard Cat speak of the changes she would make in Merrick when she was wedded. Cassandra didn’t think Wyatt would approve of his betrothed’s intentions.
She listened as the first speaker laughed.
“She’s a rare handful, I agree. I’ve heard it said she accompanies Eddings to the worst hells in town. Have you made a pitch for her bed yet?”
“Good Lord, no. Maggie would have my eyelashes out. The Howards never were ones for discretion, and word would be out faster than I could get between her legs. Besides, I hear she’s promised to Rupert, and he would take the balls off any man daring to encroach on his territory.”
“I heard him bragging about his latest conquest, but I hadn’t put the two together. He’s really getting leg-shackled, then? She’s a pretty piece, but she’ll have horns on his head before the wedding bells quit chiming. Did you see that gown she had on the other night? It was all I could do to keep from dragging her into the bushes right there and then.”
“She’s a gauche little devil, admittedly, but what do you expect? I bet in bed...”
Cheeks flaming, tears burning at her eyes, Cassandra hurried on. Those who eavesdropped never heard good of themselves, she reminded herself, but the pain of those insults could not be dismissed as easily. Gauche! It was bad enough that they thought her free with her favors, but gauche!
That’s what came of never having a proper debut. Or teacher. She had done nothing right. It had been a mistake to come. She didn’t belong here. They had made that plain enough all week. They were all laughing behind her back.
That made her angry. So Rupert had bragged of his conquests, had he? Did they all think the daughter of the Marquess of Eddings was so desperate as to settle for a dissipated baronet with the tongue of an adder? She would have his scalp first. She would thrust him through with his own sword. She would carve him into little pieces of bloodied meat not fitting for chicken feed.
She had to marry Merrick. That vow arrived in a blinding flash that burned through Cassandra and brought a sheen of perspiration to her brow. Wyatt would never allow others to speak of her so. He would cut out their tongues first. They would have to respect her if she were the Earl of Merrick’s wife.
Her feet fairly flew up the stairs. She had no time left. Desperate times called for desperate measures. It had become more than obvious that Wyatt would never do the dishonorable thing and jilt his fiancée for a wanton hoyden. It was just a matter of planning. She had been in worse predicaments and managed to wiggle out of them.
It took an hour’s worth of pacing before she had the details complete. It would work with the right timing. Wyatt would be furious, but she would deal with that later.
Excitement replaced the shame and anger of earlier. She had always wondered about the secrets of the marital bed. Perhaps she would find out. Surely Wyatt thought her as attractive as those two toads in the study did. That was all that mattered in a marriage anyway.
If Merrick could marry a plain-looking shrew like Catherine, he should be grateful for the opportunity of someone who would cater to his every whim. The chance of having a real home and family was worth crawling on bended knees for, if necessary. In the long run, he’d be far better off with her.
As she sat down at the narrow desk in her chamber and scribbled out the missives that would bring her plan to fruition, Cassandra painted mental pictures of her dreams. In a real home, there would be no drinking and gambling and whoring. There would be no screaming fights or slamming doors or violent curses. There would be no wondering where the coins would come from to buy the evening’s dinner or worrying which bill collector should be paid first with the prior night’s winnings.
In a real home, her mother wouldn’t have to hide behind closed doors and doses of laudanum. She could come out and be her friend again, as they had been before they moved to London, before they had to live with her father and brother. They would have lady’s maids, and the men of the family would look upon them with respect. No one would curse them ever again, or strike them. She felt certain in Wyatt’s home they would be safe.
It was worth whatever she had to do to accomplish it. Her reputation could scarcely suffer any more than it had. Wyatt would be angry, but he wouldn’t beat her. He would do the honorable thing, and then she could explain why she had done it and offer her eternal gratitude. When he understood, he wouldn’t mind so much. Surely he wouldn’t.
Sealing the two notes, Cassandra summoned a maid. It would be better if she had Lotta with her. Lotta would understand and carry out her instructions to perfection. She would have to make do with this stranger and pray that things worked out as planned.
Once the maid left, Cassandra dithered with uncertainty. It was already dark. Dinner was over and the company would be gathering in the salon. She doubted if anyone had even missed her. What should she do if he didn’t come?
She must think positively. She must think how to greet him when he arrived.
Wyatt had seen all the gowns she owned, but not her nightshift. Would the sight of her in dishabille shock him so thoroughly as to make the rest of her plan simple? Or would it warn him away? She would wear a robe. That was it. The robe might make him wary, but surely he would be just a little bit curious. Merrick was too honest to expect anyone else to be devious, particularly not the innocent he obviously thought her. Well, he was about to be disabused of that notion.
Hastily Cassandra unfastened her gown and let it drop to the floor. It seemed shameless to greet a gentleman with nothing covering her nakedness but the thin lawn of her nightshift, but she didn’t think really wanton women wore chemises beneath them. She had to be really wanton to lure Merrick into this trap.
The chemise joined her gown on the floor. Opening a drawer, she removed a freshly washed and ironed shift. The ribbon lacing seemed girlish, but it was her best gown. It was a little tight across the bosom. Perhaps if she laced it loosely enough...
A knock came at the door, and flustered, Cassandra kicked the crumpled pile of clothing beneath the bed and grabbed for the satin robe in the wardrobe. In a few minutes she would be a fallen woman, and she hadn’t even let her hair down.
Belting her robe beneath her breasts, Cass took a deep breath to steady her nerves. The knock came again. It had to be him. No one else would sound so authoritative but discreet. Without another thought, she opened the door and stood aside.
~*~
The room’s darkness left Merrick momentarily nonplussed. Only a single candle burned on the far desk. The lamp in the hall spilled his shadow across the uncarpeted floor, and he realized that Lady Cassandra had been assigned one of the lesser rooms despite her rank. He finally located her huddled uncertainly beside the door. Blinking against the gloom, Merrick stepped inside.
“Cassie? What happened to the lamps? What is this urgent matter you must speak of privately? Can you not come down to the study or somewhere proper? Are you ill?”
Her muffled cry brought him further into the room. She had no one to turn to but him, the message had said, and Merrick re
alized the truth of that. Whatever gossip said, he knew her to be little more than a frightened, proud girl cast into a harsh world without guidance. Perhaps the gossip had reached her ears, and she did not dare face the guests below.
The door closed behind him. Merrick turned to correct that impropriety, but Cassandra fell against him, and he was forced to catch her up in his arms.
“Cassie? For pity’s sake, Cassie, what is wrong? Where is your aunt? Let me fetch her.”
She clung to him, and Merrick felt her slightness in his arms. She was more slender than any reed, and she smelled of some heavenly scent that clouded his thoughts. He was aware of her silken hair tickling his cheek, her breasts pressing against his waistcoat, and he tried to remember another woman feeling so comfortable in his arms.
She was tall, taller than most, but there was nothing boyish about her figure. She had the slender curves of a woman full grown but not yet ripe. Wyatt had the sudden nonsensical desire to see her ripen and become the sensuous woman every man dreams of.
“Cassie, answer me. You are giving me the fright of my life. What is wrong?”
She pushed back from his embrace then, her face glowing up at him through the darkness. She had such lovely, liquid skin, he wished to stroke it, but he settled for catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Speak, Cassandra, or I will choke it out of you.”
She smiled then, an easy smile of friendship. “I am trusting you not to strangle me, my lord. You may wish to shortly, but I have put all my confidence in your integrity. Duncan will almost certainly beat me, but you will not, will you?”
The confidence in her glittering blue eyes stirred uneasiness. His desire to protect her had astonished him from the first, but now he had reason to remember her mischievousness. It would be better did he look to protect himself.
He grasped her hair in a firm hold so he could keep her gaze on his. “What are you plotting, Medusa? I’ll not hand you over to be beaten by your brother, but I am not averse to spanking some sense into you.”
The smile disappeared and she grimaced. “I had hoped you were one who would not lift a hand in anger, but I suppose that really was too much to ask. I deserve whatever you mete out, I daresay, and I will not complain of it, but you will find me much more compliant should you show me gentleness.”
“What the deuce are you talking about?” Merrick practically yelled, although he had a sudden suspicion. Dropping his hold on her, he reached for the door.
Cassandra raced to the opposite end of the room, to the window opened to a cool evening. As Wyatt discovered the locked portal, she dropped the key into the shrubbery below.
Chapter 5
Wyatt swung around in time to catch her treachery. With a hissing intake of breath, he strode across the room. Catching Cassandra by the waist, he glanced out the window to study the distance to the ground. They were on the third floor.
He turned a furious gaze to the conniving brat. Briefly, he contemplated shaking her until her teeth rattled, but that was obviously what she expected. Her air of patience and resignation quelled his impulse. She had to be desperate to do this.
Wyatt flung his hands from the temptation of Cassandra’s tempting curves. He found a lamp and lit it with the candle. Unless he thought quickly they would be caught in a scandal of enormous magnitude, and he could be looking at his future wife.
“Why, Cass? Why me? I’m nearly old enough to be your father. I cut no dash about town. I harbor no misconceptions about my looks. Except for the title, I am little more than a staid old country squire. And I cannot think the daughter of a marquess is much impressed by titles.”
Cassandra clasped her robe as if prepared for fury or worse. She obviously had not expected his reaction, and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
“I shall be nineteen in a month and you cannot have become thirty yet. You would have had to have been an extremely precocious child to be my father. I didn’t mean it to be like this, Wyatt, but you are too proper to break your betrothal with Catherine, and I could not see any other way to it.”
Wyatt contemplated flinging the little heathen to the bed and giving her the scare of her life, but his long-denied body warned that he was very capable of doing more than scaring her. His gaze strayed to the creamy curves rising above the flimsy fabric of her robe.
He seldom indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, and he could not remember ever indulging himself with anyone remotely attaining this girl’s magical beauty. He very definitely wanted her, but that wasn’t the point.
“This is ridiculous, Cassandra. There must be another key to that door. Why don’t you fetch it, and we’ll forget any of this happened. I am marrying Catherine because she will run my home with little interruption of my present life, because I need an heir and she will give me one, and because our estates are joined. I do not wish to break my betrothal. Before you create any further scandal, why don’t you let me quietly leave?”
Cassandra shrugged and boldly climbed upon the step to perch on the edge of the high, canopied bed. Releasing her death grip on her robe, she let the satin fell loose from her thin shift.
“I am not the one who would wish to make changes in your life, Wyatt. Catherine is. She is tired of Kent and wishes to celebrate becoming a countess by entertaining all of London. I have no such desire. She is practically on the shelf, my lord, and will soon be too old to bear children safely, I heard Aunt Matilda say. If that is so, you would have much more chance of success at heirs with me. And you know where my lands lie.”
Her brother’s lands, not hers, but Wyatt did not mention that small point. Despite the fact that she was artfully leaning forward to reveal more of her lovely curves, she still appeared a confused child to him. He doubted if she even knew what she would be expected to do to produce heirs.
Fisting his fingers, he advanced threateningly, leering at the bare flesh revealed by her open robe. “Is that so, my lady? And what are you willing to do to give me those heirs, Cassandra?”
Putting on a bold front, she leaned beckoningly toward him. “Kiss me, Wyatt, and I will show you.”
Amused as she closed her eyes and pressed her lips primly together for his kiss, Wyatt waited. “What else, Cass? Show me how you will give me heirs.”
Cassandra opened her eyes and gazed at him in puzzlement, before sitting up cross-legged in the bed’s center and glaring at him. “You’re the one who wants heirs, my lord. I should think the matter was up to you. In any case, it does not matter. They will come looking for us soon enough, and you will have no choice but to do the honorable thing. Will you be dreadfully unhappy to lose Catherine?”
Merrick wondered what would happen if he answered in the affirmative. Would she set him free from this trap out of guilt? He rather suspected not.
He really didn’t think he would suffer any great pains of anguish from replacing Catherine with this treacherous but lovely little witch.
His mother would undoubtedly have the vapors. The servants would probably all quit after a day of Cass’s improper escapades. His reputation would be ruined. But he didn’t think any of that would disturb him greatly.
But there was one thing he would insist on, and he doubted that Cassandra had given it any consideration.
“You are asking to be tied to a man who prefers the solitude of the country and the fidelity of a proper wife, Lady Cassandra. I don’t drink, I don’t gamble, I don’t entertain lavishly, and I don’t exchange my wife for the beds of others. You would find it an exceedingly tedious life compared to the fast one you are accustomed to. Why don’t you just unlock the door and end this charade, Cassie? If you have a problem, I’m certain we can come to some more satisfactory conclusion than this.”
A horrifying thought occurred, and he blurted out, “You are not pregnant, are you?”
“Of course not!” she answered so innocently that he feared she had very little concept of what the word meant. Then she lifted a hand wistfully in a gesture that very nearly broke his hea
rt, had he believed a word she said. “I do not mind being bored, Wyatt, really I don’t. I’d much rather live in the country. You would let me have a dog and a horse, wouldn’t you? I can learn to be very proper.”
“We are talking marriage, Cassandra, not a romp in the country,” he said angrily. “We are talking of spending the rest of our lives in each other’s pockets, sharing meals and beds. Have you given any thought at all about what it would be like to wake up to my face every morning?”
Cassandra smiled and caressed his jaw. “Much better yours than Rupert’s. Marriage is a gamble anyway you look at it, isn’t it? But I think I prefer the cards you hold to Rupert’s. I’m just sorry you think Catherine’s is the better hand. I’m willing to wager my life that you’re wrong.”
Wyatt closed his eyes in exasperation and against the temptations of her loveliness. The sunset glow of her hair burned against his lids, and the enticingly fresh scent that was all Cassandra’s own lured him even without vision. He leaned closer, wanting to know the taste of full strawberry-tinted lips, wanting the sweet brush of her breath against his mouth. Any more of this, and he would wonder why he was fighting her.
As if sensing his capitulation, Cassandra swayed closer. The warmth of her breath brushed his cheek. He turned his head until her lips seared across his.
There was nothing for it but to pull her closer before he lost his balance. He couldn’t release the ripeness of her innocent mouth. He pulled her to her knees, and she came without hesitation, her fingers curling against his chest as he pressed for more, demanding a parting of the soft temptation of her lips.
Dash of Enchantment Page 5