by V J Dunraven
“How long will he stay there?” Cassandra quelled the urge to break down in a fit of tears in front of Barton. Jeremy had never done this before—leave without telling her—and worse, forbid his servants to inform her of his destination.
Barton cleared his throat. “Indefinitely, Miss. He asked me to close Waterford House and retain a skeleton staff. I had the distinct impression that he will not be coming back anytime soon. He assigned the management of all his properties to his solicitors and stewards.”
Cassandra stifled the rising panic in her chest. She wanted to scream, to fling herself to the ground and cry her heart out. Jeremy could not walk away from her like this. He was too dear to her, too essential to her existence that she would cease to breathe if she lost him. No—she would not let him leave! She would follow him all the way to London—or Europe—anywhere in the world if needed.
“How many hours has it been since he left?” She paced in front of Barton, her resoluteness in finding him becoming stronger by the minute.
Barton pulled out his fob watch. “Five and a quarter hours give or take, Miss. He is scheduled to board a ship two days after today.”
“Did he say which ship?” Cassandra asked in earnest.
“I’m sorry, Miss,” Barton shook his head, “he skipped that particular detail.”
“I’m going after him,” she said in a firm voice.
For the first time in her life, she saw the starchy, ever-somber Barton, smile. “Barney will escort you, Miss.” He turned to call out instructions to Barney the footman, who nodded and dashed off to change into riding clothes. “I assume you will be on horseback all the way to London. You will need some blunt for food and several change of horses. Please take this.” He handed her a purse full of coins.
“Oh, Barton, thank you!” Cassandra exclaimed. “I promise to pay you when I get back.”
“That won’t be necessary. The money is his lordship’s household fund he left for me to use in his absence. If you succeed in bringing him back, I shall no longer be needing it. Good luck to you, Miss.” He inclined his head and gestured to another footman to bring her horse as Barney trotted on his borrowed mount from the stables towards them.
Two days later
Temple, London
Jeremiah Devlin Huntington walked out of his solicitor’s offices with a massive headache and a very black mood. The man had piled a mountain of paperwork in front of him to sign, but he was in no frame of mind to sit for hours poring over documents and he had lost his temper. The poor solicitor had quavered in his chair and promised to send the paperwork to Europe instead for him to sign, as soon as he was settled.
Jeremiah rubbed the back of his neck. He was tense and irritable—even his valet, Percy, avoided him whenever he could. His alcohol consumption had increased to a frightening degree, while his eating had markedly decreased. Within two days, the fit of his trousers and coats had loosened quite a bit, and without the constant nagging from Viscountess Carlyle to finish his meals, his weight continued to plunge at a disturbing rate.
He could not get Cassie out of his mind. No matter how much he drank and gotten himself helplessly inebriated, he could not forget about her. The sweetness of her lips, the scent of her hair and the taste of her feminine softness—adhered to him like a second skin. She was all around him—like a persistent ghost haunting every waking moment and every erotic dream.
His tiger opened the door and lowered the steps of his carriage.
“Take me to the docks,” he called to the driver before disappearing into the interiors of the coach.
Cassandra handed the reins of her horse to Barney then pushed into the throng of people boarding The Citadel for Venice. They had searched every ship bound for Europe on the docks, but failed to locate Jeremy and Percy. The Citadel was the last ship on their list and her hope was fading fast. If Jeremy was not on board, then his ship had most likely already sailed out to sea. Cassandra expunged the fear that suddenly gripped her heart at the thought of losing Jeremy. She was tired and aching all over, but she could not give up—she must not give up.
“Your pass, Miss?” one of the ship’s crew asked as she crossed the ramp.
“I’m looking for the Marquess of Waterford.” She covertly handed him three gold sovereigns. “I’m his betrothed.”
He pocketed the money. “First class on the upper deck. The Marquess is occupying a suite of rooms on Aisle A. Take those stairs.” He pointed in the direction of the private stairway leading to the first class cabins and waved her on.
Cassandra practically flew up the steps. As soon as she reached the upper deck, she wasted no time in finding Aisle A. The top of the stairs opened into a hallway dividing the upper decks into two sections. Mounted on a wall, a sign indicated Aisles A to E with an arrow pointing to her right. She turned towards that direction and wove through the servants carrying their masters’ luggage. Ladies and gentlemen socialized in groups along the crowded corridors, oblivious to the bustle around them. By the time she climbed up another short set of stairs and found Jeremy’s rooms, she was out of breath and thirsty as hell.
She knocked on the door for several minutes but no answer came forth. After pounding on the door harder for another minute, she turned the doorknob and it opened. She rushed inside, peeking in every chamber. In the private dining room, she found a half-full glass of brandy—the kind Jeremy liked.
He was here. An immediate sense of relief washed over her. She rushed towards the doors. He probably had gone out to get some air. She scoured the entire upper deck, but she could not find him anywhere. She went back to his rooms. Nothing. She ran down the middle and lower decks, jostling with the crowd anxious to get to their cabins and still—she could not find him.
On her way back to his suites, she bumped into the same sailor she had bribed earlier.
“I’m sorry, Miss, but you must disembark.” He pointed at the steam rising from the ship. “We are about to sail.”
Cassandra frantically shook her head, panic swiftly rising in her gut. “No, please—I must find the Marquess—”
A deafening horn sounded from the ship.
“I’m sorry but we are about to set sail.” He took her arm and escorted her back down to the ramp. “I will send word to the Marquess that you were looking for him, Miss—”
“Carlyle,” she replied, as men raised the anchor and untied the ship from the ramp posts.
Within minutes, the massive vessel had pulled away from the harbor and steadily glided onto the waters. Cassandra stood on the edge of the ramp watching it become smaller and smaller in the distance. She wanted to cry, to scream at the top of her lungs. Jeremy was gone. She’d let her beautiful Prince Charming slip away.
Her legs buckled from sheer exhaustion and she collapsed in a heap of crumpled lace and silk on her knees. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move and didn’t know what else to do—and so she wept and wept.
Chapter 36
The Power of Love
Jeremy had been so distraught the moment he stepped inside his suites aboard The Citadel. He had paced around his private suites, worn a path on the carpet in the living area and wandered endlessly about his bedchamber. The hopelessness of mending his relationship with Cassie troubled him greatly and the thought of their betrothal coming to an end tore his heart into pieces. He could not stay still—he must do something—anything—to distract himself from jumping overboard or putting a gun to his head. Yes—just like his father, the goddamn bastard! he slammed his fist on a nearby table. He was no different from him after all.
Jeremy walked back into the dining chamber and poured himself another glass of brandy, before resuming his pacing around the room. His valet, Percy, watched him quietly from the corner where he was sitting for several minutes, before he finally suggested they take a walk. They strolled from one end of the ship to the
other, explored the banquet rooms, the library and the upper and lower decks. When they’d run out of places to roam onboard, Jeremy told Percy he wished to get out of the ship and take a stroll along the harbor boardwalk. He must have been so lost in his thoughts because Percy had to shake his arm to tell him that their ship had blared the final boarding horn. But as he watched the steam rise into an enormous puff from the colossal funnels of the vessel, his steps had become heavier and heavier. Percy urged him on—they were quite a distance away, but his pace had gradually slowed until he just stood there, staring at the ship from the boardwalk.
He could not make himself go. He may as well die if he did. So he kept standing right where he was, watching the great ship as it pulled away from the dock and smoothly sail out to sea.
“My lord.” Percy pointed at someone sitting atop a horse not too far in the distance. “Isn’t that Barney—your footman?”
Cassandra could not remember how long she had been kneeling on the ramp, crying her eyes out—but she did not care. People kept stopping to ask if she was all right, but she simply shook her head and buried her face in her hands. The life had gone out of her—she could not even utter a word, much less pick herself up.
She sat back on her heels and stared out into the ocean. The ship was no longer visible and she knew, with deepest regret, that her heart had left with him. How odd it was, for her to have found love and went through it all, backwards. First, it was her wedding, then, her betrothal, after which was the proposal, followed by the realization that the right man had been there all along. The only thing she had to do was open her heart and choose him over a silly childhood fantasy.
Now, as it happened, she’d lost him—her tormentor, her best friend, the man she truly loved—her Jeremy. She had indubitably made a muddle of everything.
A cool breeze blew on her face and a shadow shaded her from the glaring sun.
“Pretty dress, brat,” Jeremy’s familiar drawl penetrated her empty, discordant thoughts.
She kept her gaze fixed towards the horizon, where the ship had disappeared, refusing to listen to her imagination. Her head ached and her mind was in such a state of disarray, it must have been playing mean tricks on her.
“Who did your hair?” Jeremy’s voice whispered in her ear. “You look a fright, but I like it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, then blinked multiple times—she must cease from imagining things.
“Come on, brat.” Jeremy’s hand materialized and clasped her hand. “Look at me.”
He felt so warm—so real.
She slowly turned her head and found the most magnificent pair of dark eyes gazing back at her. “Jeremy?” She said in a small voice.
“I love you too much, I could not leave.” he brought her fingers to his lips and his eyes filled with tears.
“My God, Jeremy!” She flung herself to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her heart must have done a pirouette in her ribcage because she could feel it dancing with renewed vigor, infused with the power of her love for him.
“Oh, Jeremy, I love you so much,” she said tearfully, burying her face in the curve between the side of his neck and shoulder. “Don’t you ever—ever—scare me like that again!”
“I’m sorry, love, I wasn’t thinking straight. I—”
She silenced him with a fervent kiss. “I’m sorry for refusing to see you,” she whispered against his mouth. “But I’m here now and I don’t want you to wander away from me again.”
They both cried and embraced for a long time, neither of them saying a word.
Finally, Jeremy pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Does this mean you’ll still marry me?”
She framed his beloved face in her hands, her heart shining in her eyes. Dear God, how she loved this man!
“You’re the one I love the most,” she whispered, “and I want to spend the rest of my life having you to love and to hold, to indulge and to spoil, to obey everything you ask for with kindness and without a grudge, forever and ever.” She smiled into his eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”
“You sound like Reverend Jeremy,” he grinned, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Wise chap—that one.”
And they kissed right there, in the middle of the busy ramp, amidst the loud cheering from the eavesdropping crowd.
Epilogue
Eight years later
Lady Cassandra Waterford, Marchioness of Waterford, sat on the veranda of her magnificent home with her friend, Desiree, the Duchess of Grandstone and her parents, the Viscount and Lady Carlyle. On the sprawling grounds below, their dashing husbands, the Marquess of Waterford and the Duke of Grandstone were playing a game of catch with their children and her older brother, Allayne.
Edward Devlin Huntington, the Waterfords’ first born son and heir, threw the ball at Joshua Royce Radcliffe, heir of Grandstone and twin to a beautiful blond, blue eyed younger sister by two minutes, named Diana.
“That ball should have been mine!” Diana shrieked. “Papa! Edward is picking on me again!”
“That’s not true!” Edward yelled, brushing his long dark hair from his brow and glaring at her with stunning emerald green eyes. “You’re so clumsy, you shouldn’t be playing ball!”
“Edward!” Jeremiah Devlin Huntington, Marquess of Waterford, threw a warning look at his son.
But before anyone could stop her, little Diana had marched over to where Edward stood and gave him a nice big kick on the shin.
“Ow!” Edward screamed, shoving Diana with a limp. “I’ll kill you—I promise I will!”
“I’ll kill you first—milksop!” Diana yelled, retaliating with a forceful push that sent Edward staggering backwards, landing on his bum.
“Edward! Diana! Stop this right now,” Allayne immediately intervened, before the two got into more fisticuffs.
“Come here, young lady!” Richard Christopher Radcliffe, the Duke of Grandstone, grabbed his daughter by the arm and gave her a resounding lecture about good manners.
Her older brother, the perfectly behaved Joshua Royce, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head with an exasperated sigh.
Up on the veranda, Cassandra and Desiree dissolved into laughter.
“Does this scene remind you of some people?” Viscount Rose remarked to his wife.
“God help us.” The Viscountess rolled her eyes heavenward. “It’s starting all over again.”
Dear Readers,
Thank you for choosing this book. I hope it made you laugh, cry, swoon, scream and most importantly, fall in love—all over again.
Listed on the next page are the rest of the titles in this series and other books I have written. As an added treat, I have included a preview of the next book in the series, entitled, Heaven Sent (The Wrong One), for your reading enjoyment.
Best,
VJ Dunraven
Heirs of Cornwall Series
The Promise
Heaven Sent (The Wrong One)
The Return of Prince Charming
The Perfect Duke
Highest Royal Coven of Europe Series
The Silver Eyed Prince
Guardian and Commander
Son of the Redeemer
Bryan and Sophia
More coming soon!
The adventures of the dashing Heirs of Cornwall
continue in VJ Dunraven’s uproariously witty and riveting tale
HEAVEN SENT (THE WRONG ONE)
Available Winter 2012
Spring, 1826
Grandstone Park
Seat of the Duke of Grandstone
Allayne Carlyle set his eyesight on the mark. Slowly and with painstaking care, he steadied his grip and released the safety lock on the pistol. His green gaze narrowed on the tiny red dot. He pulled the trigger.
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A flock of birds flew from trees at the deafening sound, as the target rattled from the impact of his bullet. He lowered the gun and raised his head. The corners of his mouth lifted.
Perfect.
A footman rushed to the target and unhooked the wooden disk, hastily taking it to Richard Christopher Radcliffe, Duke of Grandstone, and Jeremiah Devlin Huntington, Marquess of Waterford, for a closer inspection.
“Damn it!” Richard hoisted the disk at an angle so that sunlight filtered through the burnt hole. “How does he do it?”
“Well, old chap, you trounced us soundly once again.” Jeremy shook his dark head as he examined the missing small center circle on the board with Richard.
“It’s useless to compete with you.” Richard handed the board back to the footman. “You have eyes as sharp as an eagle.”
“And an aim as accurate as a damn sniper.” Jeremy motioned for his valet to gather his pistols and pack them in the gun cases.
“Where are you going?” Allayne handed his pistol to his own valet for a reload.
“Home.” Jeremy shook off the gunpowder from his hands and pulled on his gloves.
“I’d best go too,” Richard said, and gave instructions to his valet to clean his pistols and put them in the leather cases. “You’re welcome to practice here as long you like. I will have Gordon bring more refreshments.”
Allayne swore under his breath. “Gentlemen, it is three o’clock in the afternoon. It is a fine day for outdoor activities! If you like, we can go riding instead.”
“Thank you—but no,” Jeremy replied, as his valet helped him with his coat. “I must join Cassie for tea and I promised Edward I’ll take him fishing at the pond.”
“Tea?” Allayne scoffed at his brother-in-law. “Since when did you start taking tea?”