A Lady of Secret Devotion

by Tracie Peterson

  She met Cassie’s eyes and nodded. “Very well. I suppose you are right.”

  “I’d like everyone to leave now so I can better examine my patient,” Dr. Riley said in a tone that suggested he would brook no argument on the matter.

  Brumley and Mrs. Dixon immediately left the room, but Cassie was slower to follow. “I’ll be just outside the door if you should need anything.”

  Mrs. Jameston nodded, then closed her eyes as if submitting heroically to her fate. She’s almost like a lamb being led to slaughter, Cassie thought. She leaned against the doorjamb and tried to pray. It was only a matter of minutes, however, before she heard someone join her. She thought perhaps Mrs. Dixon had returned, but when she opened her eyes she found Sebastian Jameston staring at her like a wolf about to devour its prey.

  Cassie crossed her arms to her chest as if to ward off his intense gaze. “What do you want?”

  “I’d like to know what all this commotion is about. And maybe why you are standing here in your nightclothes. Were you hoping I might come along to . . . entertain you?” He chuckled.

  “Hardly. Your mother fainted a little while ago and fell on the floor. The doctor is with her now.”

  “The doctor? Why is he here?” Sebastian seemed rather upset by this and kept glancing back and forth between the door and Cassie. “Old people faint all the time.”

  “He’s here because we sent for him. Your mother hasn’t been well for weeks. Not that you would notice.”

  “You’re awfully impudent for a servant,” Sebastian countered. He stepped closer to Cassie, backing her against the wall.

  “But I happen to like cheeky wenches.”

  “I really have no interest at all in what you like,” Cassie said, lifting her chin in a defiant manner. “Your indifference toward your mother lessens my already poor opinion of you.”

  “Miss Stover,” Dr. Riley called from behind the closed door.

  “Would you join us?”

  “I have to go,” Cassie said, pushing him away.

  Sebastian reached out and took hold of her arm. He lowered his voice so that Cassie had to strain to hear him. “I’m not at all indifferent toward my mother, Miss Stover. I hope she dies and does so soon. I have a great many things to give my attention to once she’s out of my way.”

  Cassie narrowed her eyes and scowled. “You are a hideous man, Mr. Jameston. Your poor mother deserves a much better son.”

  He let her go and shrugged. “Then she should have been a much better mother. Nevertheless, when she is gone, I shall be your new master, and I shall take great pleasure in that position.”

  Cassie could still hear his threatening tone the next morning when Mark showed up with flowers to brighten her day. She was greatly impressed by the bouquet of hothouse roses but reminded herself that Mark was only using these as a prop for his grand scheme.

  “Thank you. They’re lovely.”

  He looked at her oddly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did I say something was wrong?” she asked, burying her face in the roses. They smelled sweet.

  “Your mouth might have refrained from it, but your expression did not.” He smiled and gently took hold of her. “Come sit with me and explain what’s happened.”

  Cassie let him lead her into the sitting room. She sat in one of two chairs positioned by the window that looked out over the street. Mark took the other chair, flipping up his dark blue coattails before seating himself.

  “Now tell me, why you are frowning on such a perfect day?”

  Cassie glanced toward the doorway and then back to Mark. “I’m not sure that we should speak here.” She got to her feet. “It has to do with the topic we’ve often discussed.”

  Mark took her cue. “Perhaps we should walk in the garden, then, if you are to whisper sweet words in my ear.” He grinned and stood.

  Cassie crossed the room without looking behind her to see if Mark had followed. She ran into Essie in the foyer and handed her the bouquet of pink roses. “Would you mind putting these in water for me?”

  The young woman bobbed a curtsy. “No, miss. I’ll see to it right away.”

  Mark took hold of Cassie again and led her down the hallway to the French doors. “I’m starting to sense that something is very wrong. I hope your feelings for me haven’t changed.”

  She looked up at him, mesmerized by his nearness and the scent of his cologne. “No. They haven’t changed,” she whispered.

  Was it a lie? Could she honestly say that without there being some falsehood in the matter?

  Outside, the brilliance of the sun sent them to the shade of a large white oak at the far end of the gardens. Rather than sit, Cassie broke away from Mark and began to pace. “Mrs.

  Jameston is ill. She collapsed last night in her room. I found her unconscious.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  Cassie shook her head. “She’s been feeling poorly, as you knew, but this was something different. The doctor has put her to bed and wants her to receive very few visitors. He wants to keep her calm.”

  “Sounds sensible.”

  Mark watched her closely and Cassie couldn’t help but feel a sense of protection under his scrutiny. She stopped directly in front of him. “Mark, there’s something else. I was sent to wait in the hallway while the doctor examined her. It was the middle of the night and only a few of the servants had been awakened. They were gone at that point, and in their absence, Mr. Jameston made an appearance.”

  It was Mark’s turn to frown. “What did he want?”

  “Me,” she blurted. Rolling her eyes, she began to pace again.

  “His nearness forced me back against the wall, but that wasn’t nearly as upsetting as what he said.”

  “Which was what?” Mark asked in a very low voice.

  Cassie stopped and stepped closer lest anyone hear her. “I chided him for his indifference toward his mother’s condition.

  He told me he wasn’t indifferent at all; he hoped she would die and soon. And he added . . .” She stopped and met Mark’s gaze.

  He took hold of her and pulled her close as a suitor might dare to do when certain that he wouldn’t be discovered. “And he added what?”

  Cassie trembled. “That once his mother was dead, he would be my master, and that he would take great . . . great pleasure in that position.”

  For a moment Cassie saw rage in Mark’s expression, but it passed rather quickly as he pulled her against his chest possessively. The action so shocked her that Cassie couldn’t speak. “He’ll never be your master, nor will he take any pleasure with you. I’ll see to it. Do not fret or be afraid.”

  “That’s easy to believe when I’m here with you,” she said with a sigh. “So long as you are nearby, I know I needn’t worry.”

  Mark dropped his hold and stepped back just a bit. “Cassie, I don’t want to have to tell you something, especially in light of what’s happened.”

  She stiffened. “Just tell me. I want no other games between us.”

  “I have to go to Boston. My employer has asked me to look at some evidence and information they’ve recently laid claim to. I have to go, but I wish I didn’t.”

  She nodded, feeling a chill come over her. “We all have our duties.” She knew the words sounded rather stilted, even indifferent. Cassie quickly turned away. “Please don’t worry about me. My attention must be on Mrs. Jameston. I wouldn’t have time for our walks or work with Posie anyway.”

  “Cassie, if I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t.” Mark took hold of her again and turned her to face him. “Believe me. I do not wish to leave you here.”

  Letting her guard down once again, Cassie nodded and met his gaze. “I know.”

  In Boston two days later, Mark looked over the deposition taken by a customs man who had given the latest stolen cargo a quick inspection before it left New York for Philadelphia.

  “They were uncertain why the ship went to New York first.

  But while it was there, on
e of the customs inspectors came aboard and gave a cursory look at the cargo before being chased off by another inspector,” Nelson told Mark.

  “And this was what he found?” Mark asked, looking up.

  “Rubber boots and umbrellas?”

  “Among other common things. Certainly not the vast number of art pieces and artifacts that the other customs inspector suggested.”

  “Obviously the other man is working with Jameston.”

  “That’s what I surmised,” Nelson said. “However, when I interviewed the man, he simply suggested that the other inspector had no time to get to the areas of the hold where the most valuable cargo was secured.”

  “And what of the information I shared with you—the notes Miss Stover read?”

  “We’re still uncertain. My guess is that Jameston also has some sort of scheme going on in Baltimore. Probably with a different insurance company.”

  “Gentlemen, I’ve asked Miranda to bring tea,” Mark’s mother said as she interrupted their discussion. Both men got to their feet.

  Mark had chosen to stay with his parents rather than go back to the lonely house he’d shared so long ago with Ruth. He smiled his gratitude and nodded, but Nelson announced otherwise.

  “I’m afraid I cannot stay. I would like you to come to the office tomorrow,” he told Mark. “I have some other things to share with you. Read the rest of the information and then we can discuss it.”

  “Very well. I will see you tomorrow.”

  Nelson smiled at Mark’s mother. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, Mrs. Langford.”

  “You are most welcome. Any friend of Mark’s is always welcome in our home.”

  “I’ll see myself out, Mark. Enjoy your tea,” Nelson said as the serving girl arrived with a tray.

  “Set it over there, Miranda,” Mark’s mother instructed.

  With Nelson gone, Mark gathered up the papers and tucked them inside a book he’d been reading. “What delights have you ordered for us today, Mother?”

  “I had your favorites made,” his mother admitted. “I thought it might serve as a bribe.” She took a seat and motioned Miranda to leave. Once the girl was gone and Mark had taken a seat across from her, his mother continued.

  “I know something is troubling you deeply. It’s more than Richard’s death and this horrible job you have taken on to find his killer. I want to know what has happened in Philadelphia to occupy your thoughts so completely.”

  “I never could hide much from you.”

  “A mother does not do a proper job of rearing a child if she cannot read him like a book.” She smiled. “What is troubling you so?”

  “I find myself in a difficult situation. There is a young woman in Philadelphia—”

  “How wonderful!” his mother exclaimed. “Have you fallen madly in love with her?”

  He shook his head. “Not exactly.” He wasn’t entirely sure that was the truth, but he was trying hard to keep his thoughts from jumbling. “I asked for her help. You see, she lives at the residence where the man I’m investigating lives.”

  His mother’s expression fell. “Oh dear. Is she . . . well . . . one of those women?”

  Laughing, Mark leaned forward. “Goodness, no. She’s as prim and proper as any refined young lady. She is the companion to this man’s mother. She was living there prior to the man returning to the house. He was injured—probably when he killed Richard—and he went there to recuperate.”

  His mother relaxed and nodded. “I see. And exactly what kind of help did you ask of her?”

  “I asked her to pretend we were courting. If I had a vested interest in going to the house, I would be able to better observe the suspect.”

  “And she agreed?”

  “Yes.” Mark reached out and took a fruit tart without benefit of a plate or napkin. “Her name is Cassandra, but she’s called Cassie. She’s a beautiful woman, kind and loving. She has even convinced me to attend church on Sundays with her and her employer.”

  “And is that a pretense as well?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Mark admitted with an embarrassed smile. “I’ve found myself listening a little more each time. I don’t wish to keep my heart hardened against God.” He paused and met his mother’s compassionate gaze. “I’m just still so confused by it all. Richard’s death. Cassie’s appearance in my life. This man’s threat to her well-being, as well as that of his mother.” He took a large bite of the tart and nearly swallowed it whole.

  His mother nodded and poured the tea. “I suppose it would be useful to take each matter in separate doses. Consider them apart, rather than forcing them all in one container. God has a way of working out the details in bits and pieces, and before we know it, He has dealt with the overall scheme of things.”

  She extended a cup and saucer to Mark. He took the tea and put the half-eaten tart alongside the cup. “But I don’t know where to start to sort it all out.”

  “Start with the thing that is uppermost on your mind. I suppose that would be Richard’s death.”

  Mark shook his head. “To be honest, I find Cassie there.”

  “Indeed,” his mother said in a nonchalant manner. “And what does she do there?”

  “Consumes me,” Mark admitted. “I find myself drawn to her like I’ve been with no other woman since Ruth.”

  “Perhaps you should make your game of pretend a more substantial arrangement,” his mother said, smiling in a coy manner. She sipped her tea as if quite satisfied with her son’s announcement.

  “But what if she has no interest in such things? I mean, I know she finds my company pleasant enough, but she wants to see this man behind bars as much as I do. What if that’s all there is to this?”

  “I believe everything will sort itself out in time, dear boy.

  However, if you truly want to make this woman permanent in your life, why not try turning on the charm that you are so capable of, and woo her?”

  Mark put the cup and saucer on the table. “She’s not from a socially elite family. Her father was a merchant who died some ten years ago. Her mother has since made a living taking in laundry. Cassie is working as a companion. None of that matters to me, but I wouldn’t wish to make things uncomfortable for you and Father.”

  “Pshaw. Your father once mucked out stables to make a living. You know we’ve never cared about such things. The upper class here still turns its nose up at the Langford name. They frequent our hotel often enough but seek to keep us firmly in our place otherwise. I cannot possibly imagine that your father would feel any differently than I do. We only want to see you happy. You’ve been alone much too long, and if this Cassandra woman makes you happy, then that is good enough for me.”

  “It might mean my moving permanently to Philadelphia,” he said, knowing that wouldn’t sit well.

  To his surprise, his mother shrugged. “I would miss you, of course, but I would not seek to stop you from true happiness.

  After all, Philadelphia is not so very far away. We could always come for visits, as could you.”

  Mark reached out and touched her arm. “Thank you. I knew your counsel would put my mind at ease. I’ve been trying to reconcile how I would deal with the situation if courting Cassie for real caused some kind of separation with you and Father.”

  “Then wonder on that no longer.” She smiled broadly. “See there—we’ve already eliminated one of your problems. Go back to Philadelphia and win the heart of your young lady.”

  CHAPTER 14

  You’re doing very well,” Mark told Cassie. He had finally convinced her to sit atop Posie and allow Mark to lead them around the yard. Her fear of the animal had diminished somewhat, and he now knew it would only be a matter of time until she could overcome it completely.

  “I don’t feel all that confident up here,” Cassie replied. “Sitting sidesaddle is not exactly easy. You really should try it sometime.”

  He chuckled at her awkward seating. “I’m certain I would not care for it.”
>
  Cassie gripped the reins with both hands. “I’m convinced it would be easier to ride backward.”

  “Well, if that’s what you’d like to try . . .”

  She shook her head and the ribbons of her riding bonnet flared out in the breeze. “Perhaps another time.”

  Mark smiled. He’d been back in Philadelphia for over a week and had thoroughly enjoyed spending most of that time in Cassie’s company. She, too, seemed content. At least with him. She wasn’t at all happy that Sebastian had decided to remain in residence.

  “You started to tell me about Mr. Jameston earlier. What were you going to say?”

  Cassie frowned. “He’s quite recovered, but he refuses to leave. Mrs. Jameston is much better now, as well, but not at all happy about her son’s refusal to go. He tells her it’s his concern for her recovery, but we both know he’s up to something far more self-motivated. He’s had unsavory characters to the house at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Have you overheard any conversations?”

  “No, but he certainly has hushed discussions aplenty with that Robbie McLaughlin. They are often doing something in Mr. Jameston’s room until the wee hours of the morning.

  I know this only because of the light shining from under his door at the end of the hallway. Oh, and some of the noise as they go up and down the stairs.”

  Mark brought Posie back toward the stable, where Wills awaited them. “Miss Stover, you’re doing very well,” Wills encouraged. “You look like a proper horsewoman.”

  “I feel like . . . well . . . I shan’t say. I do know I would not be long for this saddle without suffering some terrible affliction,” she announced as Mark lifted her from the horse’s back.

  “I remember only too clearly how I used to beg my father to let me ride astride.”

  “You’ll get used to it again,” Mark told her. “Before you know it, you’ll be jumping fences. Here, feed her this,” he directed and handed Cassie a piece of apple. “She’ll love you forever.”