“I’m glad you were moved by the sermon.”
“Very moved, though I have always thought of the crucifixion as being more appropriate for Easter.”
“I asked the vicar to speak on that subject.”
She threw him a searching glance. “You did? Why?”
“I was thinking of you. I suppose I thought you might gain some comfort from knowing God didn’t spare His own Son to save others.” He took both her hands in hers. “I don’t know what happened to you, but I do know you think God forsook you.” He looked up as if searching for inspiration in the sky. “He didn’t forsake you, Cassandra. He had a purpose.”
She pulled away from him. “You don’t understand, Edward. There was no purpose. I cried night and day for God and…He didn’t care.” The words strangled her. She had to get away before she said too much. Lifting her skirts, she turned and began to scud up the knoll.
He called after her. “God did answer your prayers, Cassandra. He sent Lord Wayte to rescue you.”
It was true. But Edward couldn’t know what Lord Wayte had rescued her from. Could he? No, he couldn’t have discovered how much damage had been done. She halted, but only for a moment. Without looking back, she ran, wanting to put as much distance between Edward and herself as possible.
Chapter 21
Viscount Galloway arrived the next day with the disturbing news that eight seamstress apprentices had been arrested from Lord Wayte’s charity house and threatened with debtor’s prison. The charity’s manager would pay off the seamstresses’ debts and secure their release, but Edward hated the thought of telling Cassandra.
She gave him scant chance to tell her anything. Since their walk from church yesterday, she’d avoided him, spending her time with Sarah or holed up in her bedchamber with instructions not to be disturbed. Apparently she was feverishly working on the portrait she intended to present at Sarah’s birthday party. He hoped that was her only reason.
Had he frightened her away by trying to delve into her past? Whatever she hid, it had to be exposed, as a boil had to be lanced to drain its poison. She probably had worked for Harcrumb at some time…in some capacity.
Edward wanted to make allowances for her. She came from poverty and had to work. Women working as parlor and bar maids in the bawdy houses often found themselves pressed into tawdry behavior.
He pushed that depressing thought to the back of his mind.
Aunt Chloe arranged for a small dinner party, inviting Daphne and Sir Ralph, along with George and Millicent Wayte and Lord and Lady Avery.
Edward dreaded the evening, but it was an obligatory event. They had to reciprocate for the Wayte’s ball.
The seating arrangement put Cassandra on one side and Daphne on the other side of Edward. If that wasn’t bad enough, Sir Ralph was placed to Cassandra’s right. Charles sat at Daphne’s left, and the married couples faced each other further down the table.
An uncomfortable undercurrent ran around the table except for Aunt Chloe and Lady Hayes who sat at the end, ignoring them all.
Every time Edward attempted to engage Cassandra in conversation, Daphne snagged his attention. Each time Cassandra turned to Edward, Sir Ralph spoke to her.
Of them all, Charles enjoyed himself the most, and his playful banter drew Cassandra’s interest. With only half an ear attuned to Daphne’s gushing, Edward noticed Cassandra tilting toward Charles. “Did you find French ladies more flirtatious than English ladies, Viscount?”
Charles laughed. “Of a certainty, but I found French mamas to be more straight-laced.” Charles leaned across the table. “Would you believe the closest I came to being captured occurred when a mademoiselle begged me to help her hunt a lost kitten in the barn. No sooner had I realized there was no kitten than this fat peasant woman came barreling at me with a pitchfork.”
Under cover of the laughter that followed, Sir Ralph spoke. “I missed you sorely at the ball, Lady Wayte. I was hoping for a dance.”
“You’re fortunate I wasn’t present,” Cassandra said. “My dancing leaves much to be desired.”
Edward didn’t catch Sir Ralph’s sally. Daphne clutched his arm. “Edward, you’ve not said two words all evening.”
“I was merely enjoying the colorful tableau of the ladies gracing my table.”
“Do you like my new gown?”
“Indeed.” Daphne fairly glittered tonight in a violet satin gown with a gossamer overskirt sprinkled with faux diamonds. Her pale blonde hair hung in ringlets which were held with diamond studded combs. Real diamonds hung around her neck, nestling artistically above her low-cut bodice.
Cassandra’s attire out shown Daphne’s, in Edward’s opinion. Her sky-blue silk gown brought out the vibrant hue of her eyes. Tiny white, silk orchards decorated the bodice and skirt hem. She wore a string of priceless pearls around her neck and another strand was woven in her upswept hair.
She’d been avoiding him since he’d asked that forbidden question. What had Harcrumb done to have caused such fear? He caught her glance, and their eyes locked in a lingering gaze until Daphne once again pulled his attention away.
But Edward ignored Daphne, straining to hear what else Sir Ralph said. “You’re an accomplished horsewoman. I should be delighted to show you my new thoroughbred stud.” The way he said it sounded lascivious.
“I shall be too busy teaching Sarah the techniques of watercolors,” Cassandra countered.
“Upon my life, Lady Wayte, I have never seen a woman so dedicated to a child’s painting. A beautiful lady should have more important pursuits.” Sir Ralph’s tone made Edward want to wipe that smug smile off his face.
***
Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief when Lady Chloe rose to lead the ladies to the drawing room. Sir Ralph’s pomposity and Daphne’s fawning over the duke had her wishing to escape. As the ladies clustered together, she sat apart on her favorite red velvet settee.
“What a vastly pretty gown,” Margaret said, taking a seat beside Cassandra. “Those orchids remind me of those in the duke’s conservatory.”
“Have you seen the conservatory? I’d like to.” Perhaps a way to escape Daphne and Millicent.
“I highly advise it. It’s one of the largest I’ve ever seen.”
Cassandra decided to slip away the first chance she got to visit the conservatory. That chance came when the men joined them and tables were set up for cards.
“Come, my love,” Lord Avery said to Margaret. “You wished me to teach you whist.”
“Will you join us, Cassandra?” Margaret asked.
“No, I have never been an able player. I shall just look on.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sir Ralph approaching, and slipped out of the room to hide in the shadows around a corner. Sir Ralph came through the door and walked straight down the west hall.
Having rid herself of his menace, she turned down the east hallway. After asking a maid for directions, she found the conservatory.
She’d visited many of the great houses in London, and most boasted magnificent conservatories. Never had she seen such an elegant greenhouse as this. Being attached to the main house by a short breezeway, the structure itself was of geometrical glass design with silver-plated arches and ran at least 100 feet in all directions. Inside were every shrub, flower, and fruit imaginable.
Cassandra strolled slowly down the center path. Sweet, intoxicating perfumes of the roses, gardenias, and Jasmines wafted through the air. In another section were the fruit trees and vines that kept the kitchen supplied winter and summer with peaches, pineapples, oranges and grapes.
A whole corner was devoted to orchids of every size and color. And there were the white orchids Margaret mentioned. Cassandra preferred the pale blush tea roses. She broke off a small rose and lifted it to her nose, drinking in its delicate fragrance.
“Lovely aren’t they?” Sir Ralph said, “But not as lovely as you by half.”
She’d not heard him enter, and jumped at the sound of hi
s voice. He strode toward her with long steps. “I apologize for startling you.”
“That’s…that’s quite all right. I was just leaving.”
“You would not leave on my account, dear Cassandra?”
She cringed at the familiar use of her name. “I’ve seen everything I care to. I should return to the party.”
He blocked her way. “Why? All of the card tables are full at present. Besides, we can find something to do which is much more exciting.”
Before she could react, he grasped her waist and bent to kiss her. She averted her head, her heart hammering wildly at the realization that she was alone with this man.
He kissed her hair instead. “I have been waiting for this moment. Though you’ve tried hard to pretend your disinterest, I know you have been waiting too.” The stench of tobacco and brandy blew into her face.
She tried to jerk free. “Release me at this moment.”
Instead, he pulled her closer. “I cannot do that. I want to discover for myself if it is true what they say about you.”
She stilled, hoping for a chance to break away. “What do they say?”
“That you like to play the cold fish until a man gets you to bed, and then you become a tigress.”
Blood rushed to the very roots of her hair. “How dare you insult me so.” She ground the words out through clenched teeth. Jerking with all her might, she broke free. She might have escaped if her dress hadn’t caught on a metal planter and ripped with the force of her movement.
Sir Ralph laughed. “I declare it must be true. Your protests are entirely unnecessary, Cassandra. You have no protector.”
She knew he spoke the truth. It was the same reason she couldn’t receive the men who tried to pay her court. They all knew she was fair game with no one to protect her honor. In their eyes, she had no honor.
All the terror of being in Harcrumb’s clutches rose before her. She tripped around a trellis and tried to get by on the other side. But Sir Ralph was faster and stood blocking her way.
She backed up, and he stepped forward as she did so. Then she felt the ridges of the orchid planters and knew she was trapped. Sir Ralph grinned sardonically and moved toward her.
***
Edward found it hard to keep his mind on the game and actually lost the third hand, an unusual event for him.
“Sorry old man,” William Avery said. “I think your luck has turned.
“Do not let him crow over us, darling,” Daphne cooed. “We’ll win the next round.”
“Perhaps I should relinquish my seat to your cousin.” Edward looked around for Sir Ralph.
“He isn’t here. He went to see your conservatory.”
“I wonder if he went with Cassandra,” Margaret said. “She wished to see it as well.”
“Likely as not that is where they both are.” Daphne’s smug smile reminded Edward she and her cousin worked together.
He frowned. Nothing about Sir Ralph recommended him. He wasn’t admitted to the best clubs in St James, and according to some of his peers, Sir Ralph was an outsider. Edward would never have invited him to dinner but for Daphne.
The man was pushing himself on Cassandra in a manner that exceeded the bounds of flirtation. With a sense of urgency, Edward stood.
“Where are you going?” Daphne asked.
“I have a small errand to attend. I shan’t be long.” He sent the remark over his shoulder, and, with rapid strides, made for the conservatory.
At first he thought the room was empty. Then he heard scuffling from the rear and bounded toward the sound.
Cassandra struggled in Sir Ralph’s arms, twisting and writhing in an apparent effort to escape.
“Sir Ralph.” Edward’s voice shattered the warm air.
Both Sir Ralph and Cassandra froze, and Sir Ralph relinquished his hold. He turned slowly with a nonchalant smile frozen on his face.
Cassandra ran and would have run right past Edward, had he not stopped her.
He took in her torn dress, heaving bosom, disheveled hair, and her eyes dilated with fear.
“If you take the stairs around the corner at the entrance, you can reach your chambers without being seen.”
She gave him a quivering smile. “I am most grateful,” she murmured and sped from the room.
“Is something amiss, your grace?” Sir Ralph sauntered toward Edward. That had to be the most absurd understatement Edward had ever heard. He noticed the scratch on Sir Ralph’s cheek and rage churned his stomach.
“You are required in the game room.” Edward lifted his chin to deliberately look down his nose at Ralph. “But I have a word of advice for future reference. I don’t countenance a gentleman accosting a lady under my roof.”
“Accosting?” Sir Ralph laughed. “Lady Wayte and I were just…shall I say, getting to know each other better. And you are wrong, your grace. If anything, she accosted me.”
Edward stared at him, his contempt growing. He clenched his hands into fists, itching to hit the man. Only the greatest presence of mind kept him from doing so.
“Surely you have heard about Lady Wayte’s exploits, your grace. She’s merely putting on an act for you. Why do you think she entertains actresses? They train her in the art, and she plays her part well. Every time you are present, she becomes the innocent. But she’s far from it. She’s a widow who is…shall I say…experienced, for want of—”
As if some other power came over him, Edward delivered an uppercut to Ralph’s chin that sent the man sprawling. “No guest under my roof will press his attention upon a lady. Now get out. I would say more, but I must return to the cards.”
But Edward didn’t return to the cards. After making his excuses, he went to the library to ponder the situation.
***
Cassandra slipped her arms into the wrapper the maid held for her. “That will be all for tonight, Verity. Thank you.”
As soon as the maid closed the door, Cassandra crossed the room and stared out the window. Out here in the country, one could see a million stars winking in the sky’s canopy. Did God look down from above? If He did, if He loved her as she’d been taught, why did fear continue to hold her in its grip?
She should have been able to manage Sir Ralph. He couldn’t actually harm her, not in the duke’s home. Only the most innocent maiden would have allowed herself to be intimidated by such a man. But he’d brought back all the horrors of her past, and she’d frozen like a trapped animal.
The stars seemed to blink in rhythm…fear not…fear not…fear not.
How could she overcome fear when she’d been forsaken, mocked and abused?
He sent Lord Wayte to rescue you.
She turned from the window. He’d sent Edward to rescue her tonight.
The time had come to search for answers. She strode to the King Louis highboy and opened the top drawer. With fingers that shook, she lifted the book out and carried it to the bedside chair where the light was best.
She opened the Bible to no particular passage, but let her gaze travel across the pages, gathering bits of wisdom and comfort as she found them, much like one would pluck ripened fruit from the vine.
A knock caught her attention. Probably Verity with some message from Gama. “Come in.”
The door swung open, and Daphne entered. “Might I have a word with you, Cassandra, before we take our leave? I may call you Cassandra?”
Cassandra closed the Bible and laid it on the occasional table. She rose and leveled a searching glance at the dauntless widow. “Of course.” She wouldn’t go as far as inviting Daphne to sit.
Daphne crossed her arms and paced the room before stopping in front of Cassandra. “I believe the time has come for us to get down to brass tacks.” She threw back her head covered with perfect flaxen curls. “We can be friends, you and I. After all, we have so much in common.”
Cassandra could think of nothing she held in common with Daphne, save being a widow. “I agree it’s best to get at the truth.”
Daphn
e tried to work up a smile but failed. “Edward struck Ralph in the conservatory, and now Ralph is enraged with me because he says I misled him.”
Cassandra gaped for a moment. Edward had defended her? She rubbed the worry line from her forehead as she waited for Daphne to explain.
Daphne clasped her hands together. “It would seem I’m the one misled, but I understand the situation and am prepared to accept it.”
“Accept what?”
Daphne lifted her blonde brows. “Edward is enamored of you. He loves you.” She shrugged as if that was of no account. “When a man is enamored of a woman and loves her, nothing will dissuade him.”
Was Daphne capitulating? Not from the looks of her. She smiled, reminding Cassandra of a cat baring its teeth. “I accept the inevitable and use it to my advantage when possible. You and I can work together for our own good.”
“I don’t understand. Come to the point, Daphne.”
Daphne’s shoulders lifted in a gesture of deep resignation. “Edward can’t marry you.” She paced around Cassandra. “He’ll want to, but he’s the head of the dukedom. Others depend on him. He must consider his family, his sister’s future.”
“Edward is aware of his responsibilities.” Cassandra managed to keep her voice level.
“He hasn’t yet accepted that marrying you is impossible, but he’ll know soon. Sir Harcrumb will tell him all, where you came from, what you did there, who you associated with. The depravity that clings to you.”
Cassandra marveled that she didn’t crumble to the floor, but a strange peace held her up. This was what she’d feared for so long. Yet now that it faced her, she felt only relief. She squared her shoulders. “I’ve never been ambitious enough to think the duke would marry me, but that doesn’t prevent me from caring for him.”
Daphne nodded. “Yes, I know. That’s where you and I can help each other. While the duke can’t marry you, he still loves you. Society pretends such things don’t happen, but they do—all the time. A man marries a woman who can advance his social standing while keeping the woman he really loves as mistress.”
The Duke's Dilemma (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 2) Page 21