He heard the light tap of her slippers on the hardwood floor as she crossed the room. Then the doorknob squeaked as she twisted it open.
Her tear stained face appeared in the door. “It’s all right,” she said. “It’s mostly my own fault.”
Those words only made him feel worse. “Not true.” He leaned a hand on the frame of the door. Then, slowly, he raised his other to lightly stroke her cheek, wiping away several tears. “I am the sort of man that when I see what I want I go after it.” Usually without mercy.
She nibbled her lower lip. “I was curious and I’m glad…” She stopped, looking to the floor. “I already told you why,” she said, then shifted. “I hope you understand. I need to think about everything. I have to decide what my future holds.”
He grimaced, leaving now was a risk. If he left her to think, she’d likely decide pursuing marriage was far better than being a man’s mistress. No matter how powerful he was or how rich he made her.
The thought of marrying her himself flashed through his thoughts. Did he actually wish to bed her that badly?
He clenched the wood. He might. She’d tasted better than anyone woman he’d ever touched and he knew she’d feel even better. “Perhaps we should continue making your list, then.”
The door opened a bit wider. “Are you certain?” she asked. “What if the list weighs more heavily in the negative?”
He’d always been willing to take risks. Hell, his face was scarred because he’d become engaged to a woman everyone had told him to avoid. “A chance I’ll take.”
She opened the door, stepping out. “I think it best we go back to the music room for this conversation.”
Disappointment coursed through him. He wanted to be in her chamber. Even through the crack, he could see the large bed that filled the center of the room. He could picture laying her down and stripping off her clothes. Desire pulsed through him again but he pushed it back down.
He had to stop allowing lust to dictate his actions. She needed some emotional support to feel comfortable and…he wanted to give that to her. After all, he’d been the one who made her so uneasy in the first place.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t just because he wished to bed her. Part of him wanted to nurture her too. He pushed off the door jamb, his stomach clenching at the unexpected turn his thoughts had taken. This was already becoming complicated.
She swiped at her eyes and stepped out of the room. “Okay, I do want to make the list of pros and cons.”
He placed his hand onto her back as they started strolling back down the hall. “All right,” he said. “What drove you away? What are the negatives?” He looked over watching her face tighten.
“You’ve given me a choice. Which I appreciate. And you’ve shown me passion, which I am also grateful for, though…”
“Though you’re a bit confused about what you’ve learned,” he finished. He understood. His gut twisted again. Passion in the marriage bed, she’d participate in that. But for a religious man’s offspring, carnal pleasure outside the sanctity of marriage was a difficult choice for her to make. And that began to fill him with doubt. He’d consider this a mutually beneficial relationship, but her financial gain could not be balanced if she emotionally suffered.
She nodded. “What we just did…I refuse to regret it. It answered a question that has plagued me for the last several years. And now that I know I might be able to…” She stopped in the hall. “Your Grace,” she started.
He turned toward her, not sure he wanted to know what she planned to say next. “Not Damian?”
She shook her head. “I considered your offer because I thought I was too flawed for marriage but…” He saw her lips tremble. “I’m afraid I can’t, knowing what I do now, accept. I hope you understand.”
Then she turned and started back down the hall.
And this time, he let her go.
Chapter Six
Cassandra rose early the next morning and fled the house, wanting to make certain she did not see Damian.
It was a coward’s retreat but a necessary one.
First because she had several articles of clothing she needed to retrieve from the local dressmaker. Raithe had ordered them to prepare for their visitors.
Which reminded her, in theory, other men were about to arrive to potentially court her. Make her a wife and not just a mistress.
A powerful reason to decline Damian’s offer.
The problem was, she didn’t wish to make another match that didn’t have a physical attraction.
And if Damian were still here, how could she possibly consider another man? He was the only one she’d ever wanted like this. Which made her mind eager to accept his offer even as her fingers itched to run through his hair.
She sighed.
Her thoughts had danced circles like this for much of the night and she was no closer to a decision.
She walked the short distance to the village and made her way into the shop.
A woman was already being served and Cassandra settled into a chair to wait her turn.
“Mrs. Winterset,” the shopkeeper called, giving her a bright smile. “I’ll be right with you.”
“Of course,” she replied. Truthfully, the longer the errand took, the better off she’d be. If she could avoid the house entirely today, she would. “Take your time.”
The other woman pursed her lips. “Miss Hammond is nearly finished,” her voice had taken on a hard edge. “Isn’t that right, Miss Hammond?”
The other woman, a petite and pretty blonde, stood on a pedestal as she was being fitted, her dress stuck with a thousand pins as she looked back at the shopkeeper with a cringe. “I’m sure I am at your discretion.”
The dressmaker tsked. “Allow me to help you out of the dress.”
Cassandra ducked her head, not understanding the tension that had entered the room. But it wasn’t her business, and besides, she had her hands full with her own set of problems involving one very enigmatic duke.
But as the other woman left, the dressmaker gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s a shame I have to have such harlots as customers.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cassandra asked, her head snapping up.
The dressmaker waved her hand. “That one there is the paramour of a powerful man whose identity I’m not at liberty to share.” Then the other woman leaned closer. “But he sits in a very powerful position in the village.”
Cassandra blinked. She didn’t know the village very well, John having passed in the late fall, she’d only recently come out of mourning. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know him.”
But the dressmaker continued on as though Cassandra hadn’t spoken. “And his poor wife…”
That made her jolt. She’d only just realized that the reason the duke may want her as a mistress was because he was already married. The very idea filled her with shame. Surely, Raithe wouldn’t have invited him if he were married, but then again, she didn’t remember Raithe mentioning Damian at all. Was he even supposed to be here? “That would be very difficult.”
The other woman shook her head. “Of course, it’s more common than you can even imagine, but still. We should have standards. And I for one prefer to support the respectable and ethical members of our society.”
Cassandra swallowed a lump. Which side of that line did she fall on? Was she still the ethical married woman who’d been miserable in her marriage?
Or had she become the fallen woman participating in debaucherous behavior and pleasure of the flesh? “Who was the girl before she was a mistress?”
The other woman’s hand came to her hips. “What does that matter? I was once a woman who could barely care for herself. But I learned a trade rather than compromising my principles.”
Cassandra winced but said nothing. If she accepted the duke’s offer, she’d be one of the women the dressmaker disparaged. She didn’t want to care but the problem was that some part of her agreed with the other woman. She should be pursuing a marriage.
; She’d already allowed the duke too many liberties.
Her stomach twisted. She should say no. But then again, his offer, if she accepted, would keep her beyond comfortable and give her the choice to marry in the future. And, if she were honest, part of her simply wanted to allow him to touch her again.
When had the line of her life become so grey?
* * *
Damian woke in the late morning to find the house mostly empty.
When he asked where Cassandra was, he’d been primly informed she was out running errands. Not certain what else to do, he saddled his horse, intent upon a long, hard ride.
Because he’d been denied the ride he’d really wanted.
The grounds were excellent for any sort of terrain a man might wish to have. And the groom who accompanied him was fast, agile, and talked little. All excellent traits, in Damian’s opinion.
He rode hard and fast, wiping his mind clean of any thoughts. Including ones of a petite brunette with soulful eyes and enough passion to keep a man entertained for months on end. Maybe years.
He shook that thought away.
This was not a long-term arrangement.
After nearly three hours, they finally circled back to the house. Damian was tired, his mind wiped blessedly clean as the stables came into view.
But another sight filled him with all the tension of which he’d worked so hard to rid himself.
Walking along the trail was Cassandra herself, carrying several packages under her arms.
Without thought, he swung down from his saddle and handed his reins to the groom. “Can someone wipe him down for me?”
“Of course, Your Grace.” The other man replied, leading his horse away.
Cassandra had stopped, turning toward him. “You didn’t need to stop on my account.”
“Why didn’t you take a carriage if you had all those packages?”
She shrugged. “I am enough of a burden to Raithe. And I don’t mind the exercise.”
He grimaced as he pulled several parcels from her arms. “You worry too much about being a burden to others. Live life for yourself.”
She shrugged. “I think I worry the correct amount.” He watched as she caught her lip. “You are a man and a powerful one at that. You’ve no idea what it means to be judged by others and treated harshly for your shortcomings.”
He sensed there was more to this comment. “Who judged you?”
“No one,” she started toward the house again. “But they will.”
Ahh. Now he understood. She was worried how the world would perceive her if she accepted his offer. “You shouldn’t let other people shape your opinion of yourself.”
“It’s easy to believe that when you don’t agree with them. But in this case, if people were to think badly of me because I was your lover, I’d be inclined to think them correct.”
Damian let out a growl of frustration.
He supposed part of what made her so special was that she was moral. Cassandra was a treat only he got to unwrap.
But he didn’t like waiting and she was making him participate in an excessive amount. “Patience is not my virtue.”
“What is?” she asked, stopping again to turn to him.
“Strength,” he answered, reaching out and touching her arm. “I can shield you from the worst…”
“Not when it’s over,” she whispered back. Then she began walking again. “That’s the whole thing. Your protection is very finite.”
They’d nearly reached the kitchen door as Cassandra stopped to allow him to open the door for her.
He did so, glad that he’d taken several packages from her. It meant he’d once again have access to her room.
“The protection of my money will last the rest of your life.”
“Will it keep people from treating me rudely? From whispering behind my back?” she started up the stairs.
“It will keep you from starving,” he barked as he watched the sway of her hips up the stairs. He didn’t want to talk anymore, he wanted to touch her. Now.
They reached the third floor. Cassandra didn’t answer as she made her way to her room. Then she turned back to him, holding several parcels in front of her like a barrier between them. “We both know I am unlikely to starve, whatever I choose.”
He frowned, setting down the packages he’d carried for her and crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you. The money and home I’d provide would give you independence. A chance at a life that was completely your making.”
She shook her head. “It would be your making.” Then she snapped open the door. “I don’t expect I’ll be down for dinner.”
She slipped into the room and the door clicked closed behind her just before the lock slipped into place.
Irritation and desire coursed through him as he stared at the wood paneled door. He’d need to take another three-hour ride.
Or drink himself into a stupor.
Likely the latter.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, Cassandra paced her room, not touching the breakfast tray that had been delivered.
The maid delivered the toast, eggs, tea, and biscuits, as well as some delectable looking tarts.
As she’d dropped the tray, Cassandra had been unable to resist asking if the duke had by chance left.
He’d given her no indication that he planned to go, but she’d also ignored him since midday yesterday. She’d wondered if he might lose interest. Part of her would be relieved. He was dangerous, temptingly so.
A deeper part shuddered with regret at the idea of never seeing him again.
But the maid had informed her that the duke was still in residence at the house.
In fact, he’d been up late, drinking alone, and had only gone to bed when the sun had risen.
She’d thought he’d be gone already. Which made her stomach twist in knots.
But the thought of seeing him made the organ drop to the floor.
Giving her head a shake, she walked to the door reaching for the knob. Then she dropped her hand again. Was she actually going to spend the entire day hiding in her room? This was her home. Or Raithe’s home, who was her best friend in all the world.
She twisted her hands. What was keeping him? She’d have expected him to be back by now.
If he were here, she might not have to hide out in her room. Which was silly. She ought to leave.
But even as she thought about leaving the safety of these four walls, she turned back to the center of the room then let out a frustrated sigh.
She didn’t lie, she wasn’t brave. Sin made her retreat into a frightened ball of worry. What exactly was she good at? After her disastrous marriage, she could no longer be sure. She’d been honest with Damian last night. She was the daughter her parents had raised. Obedient and demure, she wasn’t prepared to square off with a strong and willful duke.
So she’d have to stay here until he’d left. There was nothing else to do.
A loud knocking filled her room, echoing off the walls. Everything in her tensed. She didn’t need to ask who stood on the other side.
It was Damian.
Who else would knock with such force? His voice filled the room even with the oak panel that separated them. “Cassandra,” he called. “Open the door.”
A shiver raced down her spine but this time, there was nothing scary about it. It was pure excitement. “No.”
He let out a rumble of frustration, rattling the knob. “I didn’t sleep much—”
“I heard.”
A moment of silence met her comment before he said, “I’m off to speak with a barrister.”
That caught her attention. She moved closer to the door, leaning one ear toward the hall. “Why?”
“I’m having a contract drawn up. I’ve every confidence it will help you to make up your mind.”
Oh dear. She twisted her hands together. She knew what she wanted to say. She wished to accept. But a night of thinking had solidified her thoughts. She was going to
say no. “I already know what my answer will be.”
“I think I’ll be able to change it.”
She let out a sigh. He knew by her absence that she was going to deny him and he was making a last effort to persuade her otherwise.
She should have been prepared for this. He was a man who pushed for his way. But she couldn’t back down. Not this time, even if part of her was tempted to open the door and see his face. “You won’t.”
She heard something thump against the wood.
“What was that?”
“My head. I thought it might help the ache.”
Sympathy coursed through her. “If I open the door do you promise not to kiss me?”
He didn’t answer at first and then she heard him shift. “I promise.”
Slowly, she turned the lock, allowing the door to swing open. She stepped back, letting him into the room.
He stepped in, his face pale and dark circles under his eyes.
She smiled a bit. “Silly man. Drinking yourself into such a state.”
He gave a small smile even as he walked into the room and tossed himself into a chair next to the fire. She grabbed the unused breakfast tray. “Let’s start with some tea. Shall we?”
Fifteen minutes later, he’d cleaned the contents of her breakfast tray and much of his color had returned. “I feel much better. Thank you.”
Cassandra had settled into the chair that sat a few feet from his. She looked into the fire, not wanting to break the companionable silence that had settled between them, but knowing that she needed him to understand. “You should stay and rest today rather than riding into the village.”
He leaned over and touched her chin, then gently turned her face toward his. “And see the barrister tomorrow?”
She shrugged, allowing one shoulder to rise up as Cassandra wrapped one hand about his wrist. “You know that isn’t what I meant.”
He leaned forward, stopping only inches from her face. “You should know I’m not a man who gives up easily.”
Oh. She knew. Which is why he needed to leave. She’d never survive the onslaught. “You have to.”
When to Dare a Dishonorable Duke: Romancing the Rake Page 5