by Regina Darcy
It was not that Delilah was greedy or bold; she liked London more than any of them and could be counted on to suggest outings for the girls so that they would not be bored.
She did not like the Duke, although she was too polite to reveal her views, and she wanted to know all of the details of the parties that Cassandra had attended with him.
What were the ladies wearing? With whom had Cassandra danced? Had the Patronesses at Almack’s been daunting?
For Cassandra, the episodes which excited Delilah’s curiosity had felt like a duty. She had enjoyed milking the cows more than she enjoyed dancing with the Duke, and she knew that this was hard for her sister to understand, although Delilah, in common with the other sisters, did not think that he would be the brother they had always longed for.
She missed them greatly, and her parents too. She wondered if Sarah had told them that she had received a letter.
She was gratified to find a letter waiting for her when she returned to her room. Eagerly, she opened it, too excited at the prospect of news from her loved ones to even take the time to take off her coat.
Dear Miss Cassandra,
I was most relieved to receive your letter, and your parents are very glad to learn that you are well. They do not know where you are, and I told them that I didn’t know. Mr Bennet was very pleased to read from your note that you have not forgotten your gospel lessons, and Mrs Bennet had tears in her eyes when she thought about what a good daughter and Christian you are. They do not know what to think. The Duke doesn’t go to them and ask for you. He sends one of his servants. Miss Delilah said he must think that he’s too good to come himself. Oh, she was very quick to say what the others were thinking, though she didn’t say it in front of your parents, not wanting to hurt their feelings at the Duke’s behaviour.
I copied your letter myself before I took it to them so that I could read it myself and see if maybe you were saying more than the words you’d written. I think I have guessed; if you are reading this now, then I must have been right. I gave it to the man who was sent by Mr Dalton and asked him to give it to you.
Your parents don’t know what they should do. They don’t want to go back home and leave you here on your own, but they don’t want to stay in London either. Even Miss Delilah is talking about going home, now that she sees how you feel about this marriage. She doesn’t want you to marry without your heart being for it. She said that herself. They miss you very much and so do I, but I can see why you’ve done what you’ve done. If you have need of something, you will let me know? I am sure we shall think of something.
Your servant,
Sarah
P.S. The Duke is very angry. The servant the Duke sent didn’t say it in so many words, but your parents could tell by what he did say. I hope you do not encounter him for he seems a very wrathful man.
Cassandra re-read the letter, then folded it and put it in the Bible that she had asked James to bring her when she first came to the inn. She read from it every day, just as she had at home, as her parents had brought her and her sisters up to do. But she did not know where in the Bible she would find advice on what to do in this particular instance. There was, however, someone she trusted to give her sound advice.
She fastened her coat and put on her hat; there was no need for the veil, she thought; dusk had begun to fall and Heaton would see to it that she was taken directly to James’s office without anyone knowing that she was there.
***
Heaton, however, had already brought in one unexpected guest to see James.
“It’s the Duke of Cantenberg, sir,” Heaton told him.
“The deuce it is,” James said.
He’d just settled into his office, the memory of his afternoon with Miss Bennet uppermost in his mind. The toys had been safely put away so that they could be sent to Dennington the next day.
It had been one of the most pleasant experiences that James could recall, and he wanted to sit in his office and bask in the memory.
He did not want to meet with the Duke of Cantenberg.
“Is he—”
“I’m not one of your snivelling debtors, Dalton,” exclaimed Jeffrey Ogden as he charged into the room, full of obvious anger. “How dare you make me wait while this underling announces me? I would remind you of who I am.”
“I am aware of who you are, Your Grace, and so is Heaton. It is his duty to announce all guests, as I am sure you understand. A man in my position meets with many men in the course of a day.” James kept his temper, although he was irritated by the Duke’s insulting manner of speech.
Heaton might be a servant, but he was more than competent at his work and worthy of the trust that James placed in him.
“What I am not aware of is your reason for invading my office in such a manner.”
“I am a man of influence in London, you know, Dalton. A word from me and,” he snapped his fingers, “bankers pay heed.”
James did not allow himself to show any response, although he thought he could guess what Ogden was there to discuss. He must have found out, somehow, that James had helped Miss Bennet make her disappearance. How Ogden had discovered the fact, James didn’t know, but more important than that, he must not find out that Miss Bennet was next door at the inn, virtually unprotected, as they had assumed that he would not discover her whereabouts.
“No doubt,” James said coolly. “An admirable position to be in. How may I help you?”
“You know very well how you may help me.”
“I am afraid I do not,” James said, sounding regretful. “You must provide me with more information.” He rose from his chair. “Brandy?”
“I do not want your brandy!” the Duke snarled. “I have my own, and it’s far better than whatever you would serve me.”
“No doubt,” was James’s urbane reply as he poured a glass for himself. “But you are here and your brandy is not, so I thought to offer you my own. Now, then, Your Grace, how may I be of assistance to you?”
“Do not, sir, play me for a fool! You know why I am here.”
“I confess, I do not.” James laughed gently.
The Duke’s pale, handsome features were suffused with his rage. “How dare you mock me with your laughter, Dalton” he said. “You, the son of a trollop, dare to behave in that manner to me?”
James had long since come to terms with his parentage and insults from a man such as the Duke could not wound him.
“It is true that my mother ran off,” he said calmly. “But I pride myself that I did not pay her to leave. That seems rather lacking in filial duty, don’t you think? ‘Honour your father and your mother’ and all that? ‘That your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God giveth you,’” he added helpfully at the Duke’s blank expression. “Exodus, I believe.”
“What are you prattling about?”
“The Ten Commandments? They’re generally quite well known.”
The expression on the Duke’s face was so twisted in anger that James wondered if Ogden was quite right in his mind.
“There’s also one that’s particularly significant; ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ As you seem somewhat choleric, I think it wise to remind you of that one.”
“This is not a matter for jesting, Dalton! You are hiding my fiancée, and I intend to take her back.”
How had he found out? James wondered. Was Miss Bennet in danger from this man? And was he in danger as well? James knew that the Duke was not exaggerating when he spoke of his influence in the commercial markets.
“Give her to me or I will destroy you and everything you have built! The Imperial will be a byword for ruin. I warn you, Dalton, I am not making idle threats. You will lose everything.”
Everything. The independence he had garnered. The prosperity that he enjoyed. The reputation that he had built. This man could destroy all that, and he would be, once again, scrambling to make his way in a world which had no time for failures. What should he do? Reveal the place where Miss Bennet was hidden
and save himself? Or protect her and sacrifice himself?
He did not want to risk all that he had. But he could not relinquish Miss Bennet to a man so unhinged in temper as the Duke. And there were those two kisses… steeped in promises.
“I suppose you think she loves you now,” sneered the Duke as James remained silent. “I suppose that you have fallen under her spell, and now, you believe that she will give her heart to you. Do you?” he pressed. “Do you think that she has affections for you?”
“Actually,” said Cassandra, standing in the doorway of James’s office, “I do have the warmest affections for Mr Dalton.”
THIRTEEN
All of the men in the room, including Heaton, who had remained in the office because he was alarmed at the Duke’s manner and feared that he might attempt to harm James, turned toward the door at the sound of Cassandra’s voice. So rapt had they been in their acrimonious exchange that they had failed to notice that the door had not been closed after the Duke’s peremptory entrance and that there was now another person in the room.
James was at first startled by her presence, and then dazed by her words. Had she said that she loved him? The Duke had asked an impertinent question, but had she answered it as he might hope she would? Had she dared to profess her feelings for him in front of the man who coveted her because of her beauty and not for her character? Then, he came to his senses. She had left her refuge to come to the club, and now, the Duke, having flushed her out of hiding, would undoubtedly try to reclaim what he regarded as his, giving no thought to understanding that by fleeing him, she had rejected him.
The Duke was not a man to suffer rejection from anyone, still less from a young woman with no powerful family connections to shield her. He undoubtedly believed that, because she was from a humble background, she owed him her gratitude. The Duke was staring at Miss Bennet as if she had transformed herself into an aberration which had no familiarity.
“You are a nobody,” he whispered to her, in a voice that dripped of venom. “You come from nothing! I am the only one who can raise you up from the country ordure to which you belong. I, I alone! And you dare to think that you can repudiate me in favour of this—this—”
Miss Bennet’s face was pale, but her gaze did not falter. Calmly, she walked over to James where he stood by the brandy decanter, his hand still holding the glass from which he had not yet drunk.
“I do owe you a debt of gratitude, Your Grace,” she acknowledged.
“I should say you do! I am glad that you are coming to your senses.”
“If not for you, I would not have met James.”
She turned to James, who did not hesitate to put the brandy glass down and take her hands in his.
The Duke stared.
“Your parents,” he said, “will be devastated if you refuse me. They want the best for their daughter, do they not? They do not want you to be obliged to make do with last year’s fashions because there is no money for this year’s styles. Do you want to live a life where you cannot purchase a new bonnet? Such things are very precious to women and your parents want that for you. And for your sisters!” he said triumphantly, reminding her that there was not just Cassandra who would be affected if their engagement were broken, but her sisters as well. “Whom will they marry? Some yokel who is saving up to buy a new ox, I suppose? ‘There will be no new hat this season, for we must plough the fields.’”
“Yes,” Cassandra agreed gently, “the fields must be ploughed, or else we should not eat. Even a duke must eat, Your Grace, and where should any of us be if the farmers of England decided that ploughing the fields was beneath them? It would be a very hungry country, would it not? If my sisters marry an honest farmer, or an honest shopkeeper, or an honest man-of-all-work, I, for my part, will welcome him into the family with as much affection as if he were royalty. If my sisters marry men who are upright in their virtues and faithful in their vows and steadfast in their attentions, then I will be sister to honourable men who will fit well into our family.”
The Duke’s face was a mixture of confusion and contempt. “You cannot mean that you would regard marriage to a farmer in the same light as you would marriage to one such as I,” he declared.
Cassandra looked at the Duke with pity in her eyes. “No,” she said, “I would regard marriage to a farmer as the better choice.”
“How dare you, a country rustic, a veritable milkmaid, how dare you speak so to me?”
“Your Grace, I do not intend to marry a farmer.” She held up her hand, linked with James’s hand. “I have made my choice. You are as rich as Midas, I know, and I also know that your wealth provides you with much gratification. But remember the lesson that Midas learned; as he was able to turn his cups and chairs and worldly goods into gold, his touch also turned his food to gold, making it inedible. The worst of his fate was when his beloved daughter ran to his arms and turned into a golden statue. One day, you may learn the tragedy of that fate yourself. But I am already aware that no bauble can match the priceless affections valued by the heart.”
“I can ruin him, you know,” the Duke said with malice.
James was not quite sure how this conversation had turned into a duel between Miss Bennet and the Duke. But he knew that now was not the time to interpose himself between them. There were words that had to be said by Miss Bennet; whether the Duke heard them was another matter. But James heard everything she said.
“No,” Cassandra corrected him. “You may ruin his business or his finances, but you cannot ruin him, for he will rise again and re-make himself as he has done before. You cannot diminish that aspect of his character for it is already forged through fire. You would do better to look to your own character, Your Grace.”
The Duke’s lean face hardened, taking on a mien which seemed almost reptilian, his eyes narrowing, his handsome features suddenly drawn and sullen.
“My character,” he said loftily, “is of an elevation of which you can only dream. You could have had all that a woman desires, you fool, and you have discarded your opportunities and those of your family for the sake of a trifling affection for this… this upstart!”
James looked inquiringly at the Duke in response to this intended insult. “Upstart?” he queried. “In order to be an upstart, must I not aspire to be more than I am? And yet, I am quite content to be the owner of the Imperial and the heart’s choice of Miss Bennet. What more could I aspire to than that?”
“Your brother has the title! You have nothing!”
“Really, Ogden,” James drawled, “do you account Miss Bennet as nothing? You were about to marry her until she fled the engagement. I should say, rather, that I have everything.”
“I will give you one more chance, Cassandra,” the Duke said. There was no mistaking the menace in his voice and in his expression. “Return to me, and we shall disregard these past few days of your madness. It shall be as though they did not happen. This is a time when people are very much occupied in preparing for their trips to the country for Christmas; no one will think it amiss that you have not been visible of late. We shall announce our engagement, as previously planned, and we will marry early in the new year. You will be the Duchess of Cantenberg, and I assure you that you will find that role to be much more satisfying than to merely be the wife of James Dalton and the sister-in-law of the Marquess of Dennington.”
“I have not met the Marquess,” Cassandra said. “But when I do, I shall be introduced to the man, not the title. Do you not perceive that they are not one and the same?”
“Nonsense, of course, they are the same! Now, Cassandra, you are straining my patience. You have limited time to restore your opportunities and make your parents proud of you for achieving what they never could. If you fail them and your sisters in this, they will be bereft.”
“You misjudge my family, sir,” she said. “They hold me in higher regard than any title could ever inspire. Perhaps they have already realised why I must refuse your offer. You care for yourself only, Your Gra
ce, and for no one else. James, however, shows his regard in many ways, because it is his nature to do so. Marriage to you would be empty, barren… Marriage to James promises fulfilment.”
“Your father will be furious with you,” the Duke insisted, incredulous that she was resisting his renewed proposal and denying herself the opportunity to become a duchess. “He will force you to marry me.”
James wondered at the twisted character of a man who would want a wife who had to be forced to marry him, but he refrained from stating this observation, certain that the Duke was incapable of understanding that love ought not to be driven by force. It was strange, he thought, that he should suddenly be a man of romantic sensibilities when, before Cassandra Bennet had entered his life, he’d taken his pleasures where he found them and regarded himself fortunate to be unencumbered by such a nettlesome thing as love.
Cassandra could have laughed at the thought of her gentle father forcing her to marry anyone she did not wish to marry.
“He will not, you know,” she said in her kind voice which exuded a sympathy that, in James’s view, ought to be unbearable for the Duke’s pride. He did not want her kindness or her sympathy; he wanted her to return to him as if she were a wayward puppy in need of stricter handling. The effrontery of the man was monstrous. “He would not force his daughters to do anything which was so foreign to their wishes.”
“We shall see about that!” the Duke shouted, waving his walking stick at her. “I shall tell him that you have entirely abandoned your upbringing to become the whore of a—”
He got no further in his threat, for James, having had enough of the Duke’s poisonous words, had taken the arm brandishing the walking stick in a painful grip.
The Duke’s lips pulled back in a grimace, but he would not acknowledge the pain.
“You have impugned the excellent character of a lady of rare virtue,” James said, his voice as cold as steel. “You owe her an apology.”
“You jest, Dalton,” said the Duke, his lips tight with the agony of James’s unyielding grip on his arm.