“We are in this together, Cass. I will find Rupert for you, but in return, you must promise never to leave me without telling me to my face. No more disappearing acts, no notes on my pillow. I want you to come to me and tell me why you are leaving so I have some chance of presenting my case.”
He knew her too well already. Cassandra rested in his arms and wondered how she could ever explain that she could never marry him because her brother would in all likelihood attempt to have him killed in order to obtain his estate. Failing that, he would drain Wyatt dry. Even Wyatt wouldn’t believe that.
It didn’t matter. Just living as they had been, they would be found out sooner or later. Duncan would blackmail him blind. Wyatt’s gifts would disappear to feed her brother’s rapacious habits, and she would be left to explain their disappearances. Sooner or later Wyatt would be forced to call Duncan out, and it would start all over again. She didn’t know how she had allowed herself to be fooled into complacency for this long. Happiness wasn’t meant for the likes of her.
“You won’t be able to argue me out of it, my love. Our time is limited, we both know that. I had so hoped...” Cassandra shook her head, unable to voice her dreams. This was a good-bye of sorts. There might be a few days or weeks left to them, but the dreams were gone.
Wyatt heard the tears in Cassandra’s voice and lifted his face to the sun in an effort to scald away the threat of moisture in his own eyes. He wouldn’t let her go. He refused to believe that what they shared was just lust. It would be easier if he were more like his peers who could take up mistresses and discard them as they would a rumpled cravat. He had known from the first that Cass had the power to make his life hell. He’d rather live in hell than without her.
“I won’t give up, Cass. I’ll find Rupert, but I won’t let you go back to him. You deserve better than that. There may come a time when you realize there is more to life than a dull farmer such as myself, but I would see you happy before I let you go.”
She nodded against his coat sleeve. “You may rest easy on that account, my lord. I will never return to Rupert. I only wish to speak with him.”
Merrick wasn’t fooled, but he sent a messenger to his solicitor later that day anyway. It had been over a month since he had requested that Rupert be found. Surely they must have word by now.
Chapter 21
A week later, as he approached the cottage door, Wyatt crunched the damnable letter in his pocket. The past days had worn his patience and his nerves to ragged ends. He didn’t know why Cassandra had resolved to see her husband again, but he knew Duncan had to be the source of her decision.
Standing before the wooden door that separated him from the welcoming home of his dreams, Wyatt forced himself to raise the knocker. His dreams were built on ashes. He knew that, and so did Cassandra.
While they stayed behind these four walls, they could pretend he was the husband come home to his wife after a hard day’s work, but the pretense was wearing thin. He was tired of the lies and the excuses and the pretense when he wanted to give her a gift, dress her in the clothes she deserved, take her about to dinners and routs, or even share their musical evenings together. She belonged in his home, in his bed, his wife for all the world to see.
The world could scorn him for his choice in brides, but he didn’t give a fig. She was young in years, but old in the ways of the world, perhaps older than he in that respect. She was beautiful and he was plain. She was dashing and he was dull. She was an untamed spirit and he had succumbed to rigid routine long ago. But all that disappeared the instant they were together. The air trembled and the earth moved and all their differences melded into one whole. He had no desire to live without her ever again.
So why did he carry this letter in his pocket that would tear their world asunder? He was tired of pretense, true, but wasn’t pretense better than nothing at all? And he greatly feared he would be left with nothing at all once he imparted this information to Cassandra.
That was the reason he was standing here with his solicitor’s letter in his pocket. No matter how he felt, Cassandra was Rupert’s wife. If she chose to return to her husband, Wyatt could not stop her, no matter how he longed to do so.
As the door opened and a burst of red-gold exploded into his arms, Wyatt knew the anguish of loss even in this moment of happiness. He wrapped his arms around her, but it was like holding the wind. What insanity had led him to believe she could ever be his?
Wyatt gave her the letter with Rupert’s address that night, before they went to bed. Cassandra went white. Not opening the letter, she laid it carefully on the mantel. With her back to him, she repeated the phrases she had probably rehearsed all week.
“You made me promise to warn you when I decided to leave. I’m leaving you now, Wyatt. It would be better for both of us if you would let me go alone.”
Her words pierced him like bullets, and Wyatt felt his soul ripping from his body as he stared at her slender back. “We’ve had this discussion before. Will you give me an explanation for your change of mind, Cass? Do I not deserve that much?”
“How can I say what you must already know?” she asked. “You are better off without me. You need a proper wife and I cannot be it. I think it would be better if you left now.”
That was nonsense and they both knew it. Wyatt wanted to put his hands on her shoulders and turn her around and kiss her until she regained her senses. But that wasn’t the way to logic. He hated emotional scenes, and she would hate him for causing one. If she were determined to be cold about this, so would he.
“I’ll leave if that is what you want, Cass, but don’t expect me to believe a word you say. You’ve taught me too much to believe you’re indifferent to my caresses or unhappy with my company. I’ll go, but I’ll be back.”
He walked away, every footstep tearing another hole in his heart.
Chapter 22
By morning Cassandra had a single bag packed and her small store of coins tucked safely in several different places. The letter with Rupert’s address was in Jacob’s coat. She had sworn and cursed and tried to persuade the two servants that they must stay behind, but both refused to obey. Resignedly she watched as Jacob lugged two more satchels down to the growing stack of luggage in the hall.
With luck, Merrick wouldn’t be back before she escaped. She had felt the nails pounded into her coffin when he’d walked out, but better hers than his. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and with the servants outside, she succumbed to weakness, clinging to the mantel while shudders shook her.
She had never done anything so hard in her life. Why did doing the right thing have to feel so bad?
Swallowing her sobs, she wiped her eyes, lifted her chin, and marched down the stairs as if she were the treacherous witch everyone would call her.
“I trust there will be room for all this in the mail coach,” Cass grumbled as Lotta brought still another small case.
Jacob ignored the complaint and swung open the front door. “This is the most shatter-brained scheme you’ve dreamt up yet. Rupert ain’t worth the time nor the money, and I can’t see why you’re in such a hurry to find that out.”
Cassandra had heard this all before. She picked up her bag without his help. After Wyatt had left last night and she had explained her intentions, Jacob had been particularly mutinous. At one point she had thought him about to read her a lecture, but she had explained about Duncan and why she couldn’t ever marry Wyatt, and he had grown quiet, if somewhat sulky.
As she stepped into the muted light of a gray day, she uttered a cry of frustration. Up the lane cantered Wyatt, the capes of his greatcoat billowing, followed directly behind by a coach and four.
He didn’t look the least friendly as he doffed his beaver hat and bowed. With a few curt orders he had their bags stored in the boot of the carriage. He didn’t even bother to dismount as the footman assisted her in. Whatever his coach driver and footman might think of this improper journey, they couldn’t say it was in the least romantic. They bar
ely exchanged two words before Wyatt signaled for the coach to move out.
It began to rain before the morning was over. The light mist didn’t slow their rapid pace, and Cassandra’s stomach churned long before they reached a place to halt for luncheon. Wyatt hired a private room, but she refused to join him. She had burned her bridges last night. After using the necessary, she returned to the carriage.
She knew he was furious when he strode out a while later and snapped at the grooms to hurry as they changed the horses. Wyatt never snapped. Cassandra clasped her hands and stared at the velvet squabs of the opposite seat. Anger was better than sorrow.
She half-expected Wyatt to join her as the rain increased, but he merely forced the driver to a fiercer pace. The carriage lurched and rocked as it hit the ruts and rocks of the rough road, and Cassandra held desperately to the meager contents of her stomach.
They did not stop for an inn as the day darkened, but traveled on after another change of horses. Cassandra began to wonder if Merrick were driven by the devil, but, she refused to complain. Thick bread and a little roasted chicken had settled her stomach. She stared stonily at the drizzling rain.
As the lights of Dover appeared, she set her chin. She had told Wyatt she was leaving him. She couldn’t take the blame if he refused to believe her. If he thought she would continue to share his bed and company, he was mistaken.
When the coach stopped, Cassandra sent Jacob off to the nearest inn for accommodations. When Wyatt came to hand her down from the carriage, she refused. He glared at her in disbelief as the water dripped from his hat to roll down his neck and saturate his already sodden cravat.
“You intend to sleep in the carriage?”
“I intend to sleep at the inn, by myself. I did not ask for your company.”
“There are two perfectly respectable cabins on board that packet. I am claiming one of them,” he declared. “You may stay here all night if you like, but when the boat sails in the morning, I will go without you. Your husband and I will find much to talk about while you catch up with me.”
He swung on his heel and strode off to the dock. It had been a long time since he had spoken to her like that, and Cassandra bit back tears.
When Jacob returned to inform her the inns were full, she cursed as vividly as Duncan had ever done. Swinging down from the carriage without assistance, she stalked down the dock to the waiting boat. She’d be damned if she let Merrick get to Paris before her.
Before she could walk up the plank, two bedraggled horsemen galloped to the end of the street, loudly hailing the boat. Cassandra hesitated at the familiar voices.
Jacob tried to lead her aboard but Cassandra resisted, hating to turn her back on friends. The horsemen dismounted and raced toward the dock.
At the cries, Wyatt emerged from the shadows and cursed. Wyatt never cursed. “Get Cassandra inside, Jacob, quickly,” he ordered, shoving her toward her servant and the gangplank.
Bertie stopped on the other end of the dock with hands on hips and legs akimbo. “This is an outrage, Merrick! You can’t do it!”
What on earth? Even as she puzzled over Bertie’s fury, Thomas raced down the dock to swing wildly at Merrick’s middle.
“You bastard!” The cry was more tearful than angry, and Cassandra’s heart jerked in pain.
The blow struck Wyatt squarely in the abdomen, but he didn’t flinch.
“Thomas! Thomas, stop that right now!” she cried, breaking away from Jacob.
Her cry distracted him and his next blow swung wide. Only Wyatt kept him from falling to the wet planks. Still weak and drained by the mad ride, Thomas grasped his opponent’s arm for support.
“I won’t allow it! He can’t do this,” Thomas protested as Cassandra raced to stand between them. He shook off Wyatt’s protective hold and stumbled toward her.
Bertie caught his brother. “Cass, you needn’t do this. You can come home with us and no one will ever say a word. My mother has always mourned the fact she had only one daughter. She’ll gladly welcome another.”
Thomas threw off Bertie’s restraining hand. “I’ll marry you, Lady Cass. I’ll find Rupert and kill him. You don’t need be any man’s mistress while I’m around, Cass. You know that.”
Cassandra heard Merrick’s angry intake of breath, but tears prevented any easy reply. She rested an imploring hand on Thomas’ saturated coat and shook her head. What had she ever done to inspire such loyalty? He must be mad, but she couldn’t help being touched by his brave defense. When Thomas grabbed this moment to wrap her in his suffocating embrace, Cassandra merely rested against his wide chest.
Wyatt’s warning tone broke the spell. “Unhand her, you young lout. Bertie, take the sapskull to an inn and dry him out before I heave him into the harbor.”
Thomas’ grip tightened, but Cassandra backed away. She was doing it again, destroying all that was good and right and turning it into evil. Maybe she belonged with Rupert and not the likes of these good people.
“Merrick, I ain’t never been ashamed of you before, but I never thought you a rutting bounder before. She ain’t naught but a girl. Find a loose bit of muslin to take advantage of and leave Cass alone. Ain’t she had it hard enough without you to lead her astray?”
Bertie’s challenging tone raised Cassandra’s protective instincts. “Albert Scheffing, you apologize at once! Do you think me some bacon-witted wigeon with no thought in my head of my own?”
“Cass, go aboard before you are soaked, and let me deal with this.” Merrick’s voice was low and meant to be steadying, but Cassandra ignored it.
She swung around and glared at him. “I told you to stay home. I told you I had to do this myself. But you wouldn’t listen. Men! Just look at the three of you, fighting over nothing after being best of friends all your lives. I suppose you want to take pistols now and settle this like gentlemen. Fie on the lot of you! I wash my hands of you.” Catching her cloak and skirts, she marched proudly back to the boat and her waiting servants.
Thomas stood stunned, watching her go, but Bertie turned a knowing glare on Merrick. “I think explanations are due, old boy.”
Wyatt shook his head and watched Cass hurried away by Lotta and Jacob. “No, they’re not, Scheffing. They’re not any of your damned business at all.”
“Well, then, let’s get on with this.” Without any warning, Bertie swung his massive fist at Wyatt’s jaw, sending him sprawling backward along the planks.
~*~
Much later, Cassandra heard the stumbling footsteps and muted curses as someone settled into the cabin next to hers. She pulled up the covers and tried to force herself to sleep. Last night had been the first night in almost two months that she had slept without Wyatt’s arms around her. She had to grow accustomed to the loneliness.
She wondered at the extraordinary amount of noise Wyatt managed to make by himself. He was usually quite agile despite his size. Yet he seemed to be stumbling over everything in the room. She had never seen Merrick drunk.
She cringed. Her father and brother had never been satisfied in getting quietly drunk. Yet the noises gradually silenced without any further disturbance. She lay there listening, remembering what it had felt like to have Wyatt beside her, his lean length warming her, his strong arms holding her close.
Remembering Duncan and his threats, Cassandra prayed for strength. She refused to have any man’s death on her conscience. With the increasing pounding of the rain outside, she finally slept.
In the morning, the boat dipped and tilted and Cassandra’s stomach did the same. Groaning, she felt last night’s bread and chicken reach her throat, and she grabbed for the bowl on the washstand. It was securely sunk in the hole cut out to keep it in place for just such weather. She couldn’t stand long enough to pry it free. The contents of her stomach spilled across the floor.
The morning could only grow worse from there. Cassandra buried her misery beneath the covers as Lotta clucked with concern. Strangers appeared to clean up the mess, and Jacob
was consulted. Foggily she recognized Wyatt’s voice, but when she tried to open her eyes to look at him, she saw a bruised and unshaven stranger in his place. She groaned and wished the apparition away and turned her back to the room.
She tried to eat a small luncheon later, but the churning sea brought it back up, and she gave up trying after that. Even the thought of food made her ill, and she spewed up bile when her stomach was long since empty.
By evening, Wyatt damned servants and friends and propriety to hell and went to sit with Cassandra as she groaned and tossed and turned. She didn’t open her eyes, but curled into his embrace.
She slept then, and Wyatt glared defiantly when Bertie appeared in the cabin door to serve as arbiter of the conventions. Seeing Cassandra peacefully asleep in the earl’s arms, Bertie backed away.
They persuaded tea and toast down her when she woke, and Merrick left her in Lotta’s care for the evening, but by morning the illness had returned. This time Merrick was there to hold the basin, and he didn’t leave her side for the rest of the day.
When the ferry docked, the Earl of Merrick carried his lady off the boat to a waiting carriage without caring who watched. Bertie had given up his protests, and Cassandra’s servants were simply relieved that he’d taken responsibility.
With Cassandra wan and ill throughout the journey to Paris, nothing improper could happen by anyone’s account.
Merrick installed them in the most expensive hotel in Paris. Cassandra was too tired and ill to notice. She curled up in the massive feather bed and slept like the dead for a day and a night.
It wasn’t until late the next morning that word arrived from the servants that she was awake and demanding breakfast.
Bertie was almost ready to commiserate with rather than condemn Wyatt when they joined Cassandra for breakfast. Wyatt looked like hell, whereas Cassandra was her usual cheerful self again. She looked at the earl’s drawn features with puzzlement, noticed Bertie for the first time and frowned, then nodded absently as a waiter poured her coffee.
Dash of Enchantment Page 20