The Passions of Lord Trevethow

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The Passions of Lord Trevethow Page 16

by Bronwyn Scott


  ‘Hmm.’ She licked her lips. ‘I think I was seduced well before the dark paths.’ She put her arms arounds his neck and let him dance her back to the trunk of a wide discreet tree, claiming more kisses as they went. She ought to be more careful, but tonight she didn’t care. Tonight, she could pretend she was Em again at the fair, a woman with nothing to lose.

  * * *

  There was the famed Cascade at ten o’clock, a mechanical cataract that simulated a waterfall most artfully with a verisimilitude that made Pen applaud enthusiastically along with the Treleven girls who were equally amazed and, following that, the sky lit with fireworks in blue, green, red and violet while the band played Handel. Under the cover of the crowd, she was aware of Cassian’s hands at her waist where no one could see, aware of the heat of him as her back brushed his chest. She looked over her shoulder at him, watching his face wreathed in enjoyment and contemplation. He was thinking of his park, his dream as he watched the fireworks and the sight of the determination on his face moved her, inspired her. ‘I can hardly wait to see your amusement park,’ she whispered with a smile. If there was any man who could bring such a thing to Cornwall, it would be him. If there was any man she could marry, it was him, as long as she was very careful not to fall in love with him completely, again.

  * * *

  ‘I told her about the amusement garden,’ Cassian said carefully to Inigo over coffee and toast the next morning. Inigo had made it a habit of joining him for breakfast. Cassian didn’t mind. He welcomed the company. It kept him from being alone too long with his thoughts—thoughts that ran almost exclusively to Pen these days.

  ‘How did that go over?’ Inigo enquired, buttering his toast and reaching for the marmalade.

  ‘Very well. She liked the idea.’ She’d more than liked it. She’d been impressed by it on all of its levels. She’d seen its potential. Her eyes had lit and in turn the sight of her excitement had lit something warm in Cassian. She could share his dream, they could be partners in it. Except for one thing. Cassian tapped his fork on the table distracted, barely hearing Inigo recount the action at White’s.

  ‘The betting book is exploding with speculation after last night. Everyone knows you took her to Vauxhall. Your courting of Redruth’s daughter has outpaced even the public’s fascination with the Hawaiian King.’ Inigo lifted his coffee cup in a saluting toast. ‘She’s falling for you. You should be pleased. You’ll have a wife and an ally.’

  An ally. At last. But an unwitting ally to be used against her father when the time came. By the time she understood the dynamics, they’d be married and there would be little she could do except reconcile herself to it. The thought sat poorly with Cassian, even more so after last night. When he’d originally thought of courting Redruth’s daughter, he’d not planned on falling in love with her, never imagined she’d be Em. The girl, whoever she might be, had been a means to an end, a sacrifice he’d make for the sake of his dreams. But now, Redruth’s daughter was Pen, a woman he loved. A woman who could hurt him with her rejection, with her hatred if she turned against him.

  ‘I didn’t tell her about the land.’ Cassian blurted out the words. There it was, the one thing that had eaten at him after he’d taken her family home last night. ‘She doesn’t know I need her land to do it.’ His father would not be proud of his decision to hold that back.

  Inigo considered this thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps she wouldn’t mind? If she favours the idea, perhaps she’ll want to contribute the land as a partner, not as someone who felt she was courted for the sole purpose. If she trusts you, it shouldn’t be an issue.’

  That was the crux of the matter, the one thing that held Cassian back. Did she trust him? Had she overcome her earlier misgivings about him and his reasons for having sought out the earl’s daughter? Had he proven himself worthy of her? Or when she heard what he wanted, would she think not only that he was no better than the other men begging for her attentions, but that he was worse because he’d betrayed her a second time? ‘I can’t tell her, not yet. We’re not strong enough.’ But the question remained: When? When would they be strong enough to let his secret out?

  ‘Don’t wait too long. Rumour is, Wilmington is displeased. He is looking to discredit you. I would hate for him to stumble across any evidence that might be made to look incriminating.’

  ‘Understood. But there’s nothing to worry over. The identity of the owners of the Porth Karrek Land Development Company is ironclad. There’s nothing he can discover. I won’t rush my fences for the likes of Wilmington. It’s too soon, the relationship is too fresh. I want to dazzle her a little while longer.’ But in truth, it was himself he wanted to dazzle. He wanted to bask in the fantasy that Pen loved him before he tested it with reality.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Season became a whirlwind of one fantasy after another for Pen with Cassian by her side. The Hawaiian Royals invited them for a day touring the Exeter Exchange and the Royal National Menagerie topped off with an evening in the King’s box at Drury Lane for a performance of Rob Roy MacGregor. Cassian took her to the British Museum to see the Elgin Marbles where they debated Elgin’s right to have plundered them. He took her to the National Gallery, for drives and walks in the Park, he drove her to Epsom to watch the big horse, Cedric, win the Derby. They revisited the Enclosure and rowed on the Serpentine, Oscar howling from the bow. They attended a Riding Night at Prince Baklanov’s equestrian school in Leicester Square. Cassian escorted her to balls and musicales without end.

  June passed in a flurry of excitement of new activities and new acquaintances. Cassian had promised to show her the world and he had most spectacularly. She was dazzled by the experiences, but she was more dazzled by the man. He’d not only shown her the world, he’d shown her a glimpse of what their life could be together, of what they could build together. They could be partners. His dream slowly became her dream.

  Together, they could bring entertainment and economic recovery to Cornwall, give the people an industry to rely on besides mining. Diversification was what the region needed more than anything. A region could not leave itself vulnerable to the caprices of sea-based industry or the industry of mines. Fish migration routes changed over time and mines played out. She could really live, really give meaning to her life through those projects with Cassian. There would be tangible results for her efforts. Pen fairly trembled with the prospect of possibility, it was that exciting to contemplate. But contemplating it required marriage. She had to decide. Cassian was waiting for her to give the word. She’d wanted the right to choose and he’d given her that too. But always, came the whisper of doubt: What did he want?

  ‘You seem happy today,’ Margery commented, fixing a comb in her hair. ‘You’ve seemed happy for several weeks now, ever since the handsome young viscount has been squiring you about.’

  ‘Yes.’ Pen smiled in the mirror. ‘He certainly knows how to keep a girl on her feet.’

  ‘Or sweep her off them?’ Margery enquired with an impish grin. ‘Do you think he’ll propose? Everyone downstairs is talking about it, if you don’t mind me saying so. It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in the household for ages.’ She could hardly begrudge Margery and the others their own joy. It was a reminder that she was not the only one whose life had been changed when her mother had died. Her father’s choices had affected everyone.

  Margery held up a necklace for her approval. ‘It’s like we’re an enchanted castle coming back to life after the spell has worn off. We’re entertaining again, Cook is preparing teas and cakes and meals for more than just the three of you and the odd guest. Maids have a reason to polish the silver. You have a reason to wear beautiful clothes It’s just wonderful, that’s what it is, miss.’ She made a little frown. ‘I don’t know how we’ll manage to go back home after this. Everything will seem so ordinary.’

  Hadn’t she thought the same? Yet, she could change that. Cassian had made no secret
of it. He was waiting for her. She would have thought knowing the outcome would have made things less tense. Instead, knowing had brought a tension of its own. The choice was hers and she wasn’t ready to make it, not yet, although the case Cassian built for marriage was a strong one. Would what they could build together be enough to make a successful marriage? He cared for her, but he had never said he loved her. Was passion enough to sustain them in the absence of mutual love? The passion seemed assured, the latter did not. Cassian wanted her, but love and want were two different things.

  What happened to them once the passion and the wanting waned, trampled by the wear of real life? What would be left? Would a common cause between them be enough? In some ways the dazzling display Cassian had laid at her feet didn’t help the case, but obscured it. What would life be like after the promise of the Season was gone? Would that life be different, better, than what she’d have with any of the others? Or was he just a superior salesman? He had plans where others had platitudes. The questions chased themselves around in her head endlessly these days and she was no closer to an answer. Perhaps she never would be. Perhaps she just needed to take the leap.

  ‘What shall you do today?’ Margery moved to the wardrobe, laying out a hat and a light shawl to match her dress, a fetching white muslin sprigged with pink flowers.

  ‘Lord Trevethow is taking me for ices at Gunter’s.’ It was one of her favourite things to do, to sit on the high seat of his phaeton and eat ices. It gave them a chance to talk, a chance to be private even in public and she was so desperate to speak with him today. It was just the outing she needed to clear her head and her heart.

  * * *

  The outing had gone wrong from the start. Cassian had not driven the phaeton after all, but had borrowed Inigo’s carriage to squire not only her but the Treleven girls. The girls were pleasant and she enjoyed their company, but she wasn’t in the mood for it. Soon, the outing would be over and she wouldn’t have had a chance to speak with Cassian alone. She would not see him tonight. Her father had a long session in Parliament, Phin was out with friends and her aunt had suggested it would be good to rest for an evening, so they were spending it in.

  Cassian shot her an enquiring look as he finished his chocolate ice—he had, she was not surprised to note, quite the sweet tooth. ‘I am in need of stretching my legs. Lady Pen, would you care to accompany me?’ It was not the most subtle of gestures. From the knowing smiles on their faces, Marianne and Ayleth were not fooled. Pen took his hand and let him help her down. ‘I fear Gunter’s has disappointed you,’ Cassian said without preamble. ‘You’re out of sorts today.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry if I haven’t been good company.’ She turned and faced him, let him see the need in her eyes. ‘Is there some place where we can be alone? I need to speak with you. I had hoped to do so today.’

  Cassian nodded, his whisky eyes darkening to agate with concern. ‘It can be arranged if you’re willing to take a little risk. Pen, are you all right?’

  ‘I will be.’ She managed a small smile and let him lead her back to the carriage.

  They took the Treleven girls home and Cassian gave instructions to his driver, ‘The Albany, please.’ Pen swallowed hard. They were going to his rooms.

  ‘Unless you’d rather talk here?’ Cassian asked in the wake of her silence.

  ‘No. What I need to discuss should be done privately.’ She worried her lip. ‘We won’t be caught, will we?’ Everyone knew the Albany had strict rules about women on the premises. Her reputation would be ruined. She’d have no choice but to marry Cassian then.

  ‘We won’t be caught. I know all the secret passages,’ Cassian offered with a laugh, but Pen wasn’t assured.

  ‘You’ve done this before? Sneaking a girl into your rooms?’ The old worry surged. Of course he had. He was an experienced man of the world. A man who’d loved multiple women, a man who gave his heart to no one. Hadn’t he told her as much?

  ‘I’m no virgin, Pen, and you know it,’ he scolded her. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m not capable of fidelity and feeling.’ He directed the driver around back at the Albany. ‘This is the best time of day. No one is back yet to change for the evening and the servants are all at tea.’ He led her up a warren of staircases to the third floor and expeditiously ushered her into a set of plush rooms done in pale blue and cream, firmly locking the door behind them. ‘We’re safe now.’ Under other circumstances, he might have winked or made a joke, but his tone was serious.

  ‘These are nice rooms.’ Pen commented, suddenly nervous. She had him alone and now she hadn’t any idea where to start. Why did she make a habit of wishing for things she didn’t want?

  ‘They do well enough. I’m hardly here.’ Cassian strode to the console and poured a drink. ‘Would you like one? I can’t offer you any tea, but perhaps a little brandy might help you relax?’ He poured her one anyway. ‘You’ve got me worried, Pen. You’re as tight as a bowstring. Come, sit and tell me what’s happened.’

  She took the glass from him. Perhaps having something in her hands would help. ‘June has happened. The Season is slipping away and I still don’t know what you want with me, with Redruth’s daughter.’ She turned the tumbler about in her hands. ‘But it must be extraordinarily important when I consider the lengths you’ve gone to, all the balls and outings, boxes at the opera and plays, Vauxhall, meeting royalty. You’ve laid the world at my feet. No man does that without hoping for something grand in return.’

  ‘I do hope for something grand, Pen. I hope for you. I hope that one day, you will tell me you are ready for my proposal. I promised you I wouldn’t push and I haven’t.’ No, but he’d certainly persuaded. Dear lord, when he looked at her like that, like she could be the sum of his world, it was hard to remember caution.

  Cassian took a long swallow of his drink. ‘I am willing to dance to your tune, Pen. I know what marriage means to you and I know what I want.’

  Her. He wanted her. He could make it no plainer. She’d never been courted so forwardly, so bluntly before. Not that she’d been courted a lot in any way, but she’d grown used to the suitors like Wadesbridge who went through her father, or the young men at the at-homes and on her dance cards who couched their affections in metaphors and clichés, who never spoke to her directly, fearing to upset her sensibilities.

  Pen ventured a sip of the brandy, letting it burn clarity all the way to her stomach. ‘You are the most single-minded man I’ve ever met. Why me, Cassian? Why do you want me? Why do you want Redruth’s daughter?’

  * * *

  This was the moment of truth. But which truth? ‘I’ve never met anyone like you, your spirit for adventure, your passion for living. Your tenacity to live by your convictions. Whether you’ve been Em or Lady Penrose, those things have remained constant.’ That was the higher truth, the one that transcended all others. He would want her even without her thirty-two acres.

  She blushed. ‘You do know how to flatter a girl.’

  ‘Does the girl believe me?’ he whispered softly, his mouth at her ear, kissing the soft space between her ear and neck. ‘I’ve done my best to be worthy of her. She’s very stubborn.’

  Pen tilted her head, giving him full access to the length of her neck and he took it, sweeping aside her hair with one hand. ‘Is the girl beautiful?’ She sighed as he kissed her neck, her throat where her pulse beat fast beneath his mouth. ‘You didn’t mention that in all your flattery.’

  His own voice was husky with mounting desire. ‘She is more than beautiful, more than the sum of her physical features.’ His mouth moved to other side of her neck, laving it with equal attention. Their game of questions had evolved to something more dangerous, something that exposed them both at their cores. They were testing deep waters.

  ‘Do you love her?’ The question should not have surprised him. Hadn’t everything been leading to this?

  ‘I want her, body and soul,’ Cassi
an whispered the words against her skin.

  ‘It’s not the same,’ came the whispered reply.

  ‘It is the same,’ he replied hoarsely. ‘Does the girl love me?’ Pen’s arms were about his neck, her body pressed close to him of her own accord, her own heart racing against his chest, her green eyes dark.

  ‘The girl wants you, body and soul.’ She kissed him hard on the mouth, fervent and hungry. ‘I don’t want to ask any more questions, I don’t want any more answers. I just want you. Today. No matter how this ends.’

  There was desperation in that hunger. Cassian ought to heed it—he was the one with experience here. He knew the pitfalls as well as the pleasures of giving in to the moment. ‘There’s only one way this ends, Pen. This is not the cottage.’

  ‘It ends in your bed. I know.’ She moved against his hips, against his hardness, making reason impossible for them both. How long had he wanted her like this?

  ‘It doesn’t just end in bed, Pen,’ he cautioned. If he took her this would end in marriage. He was not in the habit of divesting virgins of their maidenhood and discarding them as a casual affair.

  ‘It would have for Em. Bed would have been the end for Em.’ She rose from the sofa. She undid the laces of her walking boots and tossed them away. She lifted a leg, resting her foot on the edge of the sofa. She wiggled her toes, her skirts falling back to reveal a length of silk stocking tied with a pink ribbon. ‘Shall I untie them or shall you?’

  ‘You.’ Cassian’s breath caught. Clothes were so much more erotic when they were about to come off. He set aside his glass, his eyes fixed on her as she undid the ribbons and rolled the stocking down. Did she have any idea what this was doing to him? This tantalising show of bare flesh and promise of more?

  Stockings off, she lifted hands to her hair and pulled out the pins, one by one, until the rest of it fell. She looked innocent and wicked all at once, her hair falling forward and loose like a schoolgirl’s, but her eyes blazed like a woman who knew what she wanted. ‘You’ll have to help me with the rest.’ Her tongue licked her lips in invitation. ‘I can’t manage the gown alone.’

 

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