The Conquest of Lady Cassandra

by Madeline Hunter

  “I don’t see why not. If you acquitted yourself even passing well last night, he should not refuse you anything today, least of all a Scottish footman.”

  Had she acquitted herself well? He had stayed in her bed most of the night, so she supposed perhaps she had. Only she had hardly bedazzled him, the way Sophie implied.

  Sophie eyed her over the edge of her cup while she drank her coffee.

  “How did your wedding night fare, dear?”

  Cassandra felt her face getting red. Sophie laughed.

  “Thank goodness, Cassandra. I prayed that he knew his way with a woman better than that supercilious Frenchman from last winter. What was his name? Jean?”

  “Jacques. I have no desire to defend him, but you are very opinionated for someone who was not there.”

  “I saw the cut of him. He looked to be a man who thought only of himself. I prayed last night that Ambury had at least some consideration, what with your being married to him. A lifetime is too long to have a lover who is not generous.”

  “That was thoughtful of you.”

  “Were my prayers answered?”

  They had been answered so well that Cassandra did not want to talk about it. Doing so might break the spell. “He will suit me in this one way at least, if you must know.”

  “That is good news.” Sophie stood and reached for her bonnet. “I am going into the garden. Will you join me?”

  “I must visit Emma, who is so shocked she may need salts. Her letter this morning was illegible. I came to tell you about the change in guard, and to assure you that your safety is being seen to, as promised. I am to tell you that you should not go out, if you have a sudden interest in doing so. Ambury says it will be much harder to keep Gerald from you if you are abroad in town.”

  “I never go out. You know that. I do, however, believe that having handsome footmen attend on me here is a brilliant idea. I wonder why I never considered it in the past.”

  Cassandra found not only Emma receiving her when she entered Southwaite’s drawing room but also the earl himself. It was clear that Southwaite had no intention of waiting to hear the details from his wife, let alone from Ambury later in the day. Men could be such insatiable gossips, even though they would never admit such a thing.

  “Your letter astonished us,” Emma said. “I could barely hold a pen straight to respond. You must tell us what happened.” She glanced meaningfully at her husband, then caught Cassandra’s eye. Leave out what you want while he is here, but later I expect to hear it all.

  Cassandra shared the story as simply as she could. She made it a point to express her gratitude that Ambury had been so noble and honorable.

  Southwaite took it all in. “I am sure that I do not need to tell you what this means, and what is expected of you now.”

  She wanted to be good. Truly she did. But this man tended to bring out the worst in her when he used that arrogant tone.

  “Rest assured that explaining my duties will not be necessary. My mother did the honors long ago. Not only was my education complete, but my new husband and I have reviewed the lessons very recently.” She fished for her watch and looked at it. “Indeed, I was last schooled a mere four hours ago—quite memorably, in fact.”

  Southwaite flushed. He looked ready to explain that he referred to different duties than she did.

  Emma giggled. Southwaite flushed all the more.

  “I would not think of spelling it out,” he said. “Should any drilling be necessary, I will leave it to Ambury.”

  As soon as he left, Emma burst out laughing. “He is rarely as bawdy as that parting comment, Cassandra. Now, I am bursting with questions, and I expect detailed answers.”

  “Not too detailed when it comes to my recent lesson, I think. Southwaite would have apoplexy. Or are we allowed to be bawdy ourselves now that I am married too?”

  “I think it is more acceptable, at least. We will save that part, but otherwise you must tell me all. I finally heard the gossip about the two of you, and assumed you would brave it out as you always have. Whatever induced you to agree to marry him? He had no choice except to offer, of course, but—”

  “It was either Ambury or living out my life counting sheep on the Scottish border. Worse, I failed my aunt in every way. My brother outflanked me, and this was the only way to save her from him.”

  She described the drama to Emma, including most of its scenes. She was just finishing when the door opened and Lydia strode in.

  “I was on my way to call on you when the butler said you were here,” Lydia said. “My maid said she heard the most astonishing rumor that you had married. You must tell me it isn’t so.”

  “It is so, and in Ambury she has found a worthy match,” Emma said.

  Lydia threw herself into a chair and closed her eyes. “I cannot believe it. Not only a marriage after all these years, but a predictable one at that. How disappointed I am in you, Cassandra. Had it been an actor or a highwayman, even a writer, I would take consolation in your extraordinary choice, but Ambury—how dull for an earl’s daughter to marry an earl’s heir.”

  “Ambury is not dull, Lydia,” Cassandra said.

  “You are being very rude,” Emma added. “At least take joy in knowing that now her friendship will not be denied you. Her dull, predictable marriage should have the predictable result with her reputation. No one will dare stand against Ambury on the matter. He has pulled her back from the brink, one might say.”

  Lydia opened her eyes. They brightened as she considered Emma’s silver lining. “That is true, I suppose. We can still go out of an evening together. He will allow that, won’t he? He is not going to treat a mature woman of your fame and experience like a child, I hope.”

  “I expect to have the same freedom of movement as in the past.” She did not really know if she would. She had neglected to negotiate that part with Ambury before accepting his proposal. She had been at a disadvantage, and he had known it.

  “I expect that I can accommodate myself to this, then. I am still disappointed, but I will muddle through.”

  “Oh, that is good news,” Cassandra said.

  Emma smirked, but Lydia missed the dry tone. “I hope that he proves to be a good lover,” she said. “A marriage of obligation is probably much less horrible if the groom is skilled in that area.” Lydia, calm now, played idly with the ends of her bonnet’s ribbons. “And he has a very nice physique when he is naked, too, so that is a point in his favor. Now you can admire his hard bum whenever you like, Cassandra.”

  Utter stillness descended in the chamber. Cassandra’s breath caught, and she could not exhale. She felt Emma turn into an immobile statue beside her. Lydia toyed with her ribbons, oblivious to the grave error she had just made.

  “Lydia, dear,” Emma said, her voice thick as syrup. “How is it you know so much about naked physiques, hard bums, and skilled lovers?”

  “Women of the world know all about those things. Don’t we, Cassandra?”

  Cassandra managed one deep breath. Mortified, she glanced askance at Emma. Emma appeared quite severe in the way she peered at Lydia.

  “I think, Cassandra, that this marriage of yours has happened just in time to avert utter ruin,” Emma whispered.

  “I could have lived it down. If not for Aunt Sophie’s situation with Gerald, I would have.”

  “I am not speaking of your ruin, but that of your partner in crime over there.”

  Pure sound penetrated the silence. Isolation, clarity, and precision built invisible walls and ladders. Yates indulged in the music’s peace, and the structures formed on which thoughts organized themselves without effort.

  The bow moved. The notes swam. Something like joy lightened him. That was rare, and almost odd. This had never been about pleasure.

  Even so, mental patterns formed and arranged. Unexpected relationships presented themselves like bits of dreams. As always, a few perplexed him, but he knew better than to disregard the unexpected.

  He let his mind
float down a direction never seen before, curious where it would go. Much like the melody itself, variations unfolded regarding facts known too well.

  The possibilities fascinated him. He tried to push them further, but suddenly the cloud in which he existed split down its center as if made of china. He stopped playing and looked around. The door of his dressing room that gave on to the apartment’s passage stood ajar.

  He set aside the instrument. Grabbing his coat from where he had thrown it, he walked down the passage to Cassandra’s chambers.

  The maid fussed with Cassandra’s hair in the dressing room.

  “I will be finished here soon,” Cassandra said. “My bonnet took a bigger toll than normal this morning.”

  “I did not know you were going out.”

  “I called on Emma. An early letter came that begged for explanation, and she insisted I not stand on ceremony and wait for afternoon.”

  He wondered how that explanation to Emma had gone. I was trapped by circumstances and have to make the best of it now.

  “Did you need me for something? If so, I apologize,” she added while she waved the maid away.

  “Only your company at breakfast.”

  She checked her reflection one more time, then stood. “Is that all? Then I am sure you did not mind my absence.”

  He had minded more than he would have expected. When he had told her last night that they would visit his father this afternoon, he had not expected her to disappear all morning. She had set aside their intimacy faster than he had, it seemed, and gone about her day with a most practical indifference to the events of the night.

  “Will I do?” she asked, looking down on her muslin dress. It fell in a white column from the blue ribbon binding the high waist. Some filmy fabric filled the area above the neckline, hiding the upper swells of her breasts. He saw them in his mind anyway, and the rest of them rising as she arched her back and—

  “He will think you are lovely, because you are.”

  “What am I to say to him? He disapproves of me and this marriage.”

  “I did not say he disapproves.”

  “You did not say all went well when you told him last night either.” Her posture firmed. “Let us go now before I lose my courage.”

  He took her hand, and they walked to the stairs and descended to the earl’s apartment.

  “Did you come through the passage while I was playing?”

  “I was waiting for the maid, and I thought to tell you about my visit to Emma. I did not mean to intrude. I will stay on my side of the apartment in the future.”

  “That is not necessary.”

  “You are kind to say so, but it may be best. Especially when you play, I think. I saw how it is a private experience, Ambury. I had not understood that before.” They reached the doors to the earl’s apartment. Her attention focused on the wooden panels. She bit her lower lip. “Will you stay with me during this ordeal, or am I to be left alone with him?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I will stay with you.”

  Cassandra had not seen the Earl of Highburton up close in years. His poor health had restricted his public life for some time, and she had never moved in his circles anyway. Now she approached him with Ambury at her side. Her nerves ran riot with her composure. Only the training of a lifetime kept her collected and presentable.

  The earl sat in a large upholstered chair near a window. The countess was nowhere to be seen. A valet blended into the far shadows. A voluminous robe de chambre enveloped the earl in garnet silk. A cravat swathed his neck, and the crisp linen of a shirt could be seen beneath it. His hair, fashionably cropped for a man his age, had not turned white yet. Rather it had the mottled black and steely gray that made him appear younger than his years.

  He turned his head when they neared. Even illness and the years could not make him anything but handsome, with his blue eyes and regular features. The resemblance of father and son struck her at once. Twenty or so years hence, her husband would appear much like the man waiting for them.

  Ambury went over and opened the window. Then he introduced her as his wife. The earl gave her a good look, from head to toe.

  “You can leave her with me, Yates. I would speak with my new daughter-in-law in privacy and come to know her.”

  “I think I will stay this time. The two of you can chat privately on other days.”

  The earl’s dark scowl expressed his view of a disobedient son. He did not argue, but turned his attention on Cassandra.

  “You probably think I am shocked that my son married you.”

  “It entered my mind that you might be, sir.”

  “Not so shocked. My wife told me about the gossip. I knew he would do what was right, for all his unconventional thinking. It probably helped that you are a very pretty woman.”

  She could think of no response.

  “I knew your father. We were friends when we were young. We had drifted apart by the time he died, but I still mourned him. He was a fine man with a generous character.” A fit of coughing interrupted. The valet appeared at the earl’s side, handkerchief at the ready. After a few minutes, the earl calmed, and the valet melted away.

  “And his sister. Your aunt. How does she fare?” He spoke in a distracted tone, as if the coughing had robbed him of alertness.

  “She flourishes, sir.”

  “Flourishes, does she? A good word for her, as I remember. It is good to know that she still flourishes.” A critical gleam entered his filmy gaze. “As the next Countess of Highburton, it would be best if you did not flourish quite as dramatically as she did, of course.”

  So there it was—the scold that everyone felt obliged to give her, as if they thought she would be too stupid to know what was expected. You had best not be careless with your reputation in the future, young woman.

  “At the same time, no one wants Cassandra’s high spirits to desert her, I am sure,” Ambury said. “It is her most attractive quality, and one I would never want her to lose.”

  She wanted to kiss him for defending her and speaking well of her at that moment. The firm smile that he gave his father perhaps did even more to curtail any further lessons.

  “Your mother says you must have your own household now,” the earl said to Ambury. “This will be yours so soon it seems more an inconvenience for you to establish another one for a mere few months.”

  “I do not think it will be a mere few months. Nor should you assume that.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps. What do you say, Cassandra? Do you expect your own house? It will not be as large and fashionable as this one, that is certain. If you have a taste for luxury, you would do better to stay here.”

  “I will have my husband decide this question. Whatever he prefers will suit me.”

  The earl chortled. “She is clever enough, Yates. I will give you that. Clever and lovely and the daughter of a good man. You could do worse, I suppose. God knows that I expected you to.” He raised his hand and gestured to her. “Come and give me a kiss, girl, and I will bless this marriage, such as it is.”

  She went over and bent down and kissed his cheek.

  “You need to take her down to Elmswood Manor soon,” the earl said. “Let the county neighbors meet her.”

  The earl’s eyes closed, and Yates beckoned her away. As they were leaving, the valet appeared and reached for the casement window’s knob.

  “Leave it open,” Yates said.

  “The physician, sir—”

  “The day is fair, the breeze is mild, and the physician is an ass. Leave it open.”

  Outside the apartment, Cassandra sank against the wall with relief. “I would rather face down all the patronesses of Almack’s at the same time than ever do that again.”

  Ambury drew her into his embrace. “Come now, it was not that bad.”

  “Only because he was kind. He did not have to be, and I could not count on it. As it is, I know his acceptance is only resignation when facing a fait accompli.”

  “I do not car
e why he accepts, as long as he does.” He gave her a kiss. “Clever, lovely, and high spirits. What he said was true. I could have done much worse.”

  It was a sweet thing to say. His embrace and kiss evoked echoes of the previous night’s mood. The warmth woke the delicate emotional tethers that had formed, as if they were living things that had slept with dawn’s rise but waited for a nudge to be active again.

  She found her back pressed against the wall and her face cradled in his hands. He kissed again, differently. Deeply.

  “Thank you for staying with me, so I did not face it alone,” she said.

  “We are in this together. This evening we will ride in the park and let the world see us that way. The announcement will be in the papers tomorrow, but word is spreading already.”

  “What will we do until we ride out?”

  The way his body pressed hers said he had an answer to that. The next kiss was not very passionate, however. More apologetic.

  “I know how I would like to pass the time. Unfortunately, you have one other visit to make today, and my company will not be tolerated on this one.”

  “Another visit? To whom?”

  “My mother.”

  Chapter 19

  “I can see that I am going to have to do all of this myself for the next half year or so,” Kendale muttered as he snapped his riding crop lazily against his outstretched legs.

  “Not that long,” Southwaite said. He poured Yates more brandy, but did not even offer it to Kendale. Kendale would be on his horse for hours soon, and never drank when on a mission anyway.

  “No more than five months, I would guess,” Yates said.

  “He is deliberately provoking you, Kendale. Forgive his high spirits. We both are grateful that you will make the ride to the coast that this letter demands.”

  “I would not want to have you abandon your wives so soon. Hell, who knows what dire things might happen if you were denied the pleasures of marriage for three or four days.” Kendale rarely used a sarcastic tone when he mocked. The result was it often sounded like he was serious. Yates enjoyed pretending he was more often than not.