A Scandal In the Making

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Cassandra was stunned. Evan adored women. Many of them, sometimes even more than one at a time. She knew this. For him to offer to give them up spoke to just how seriously he was taking the situation. "And your mistress?"

  "Mrs. Logan was dismissed before I even officially became Berkshire," he admitted. "She wanted something I was not prepared to give."

  Meaning marriage. Cassandra knew that many mistresses, particularly those that began in the ranks of courtesans, often hoped to secure their futures by marrying the wealthy peers that they bedded. However, she was now to fill that role and suddenly, this entire plan seemed less like a good idea than it had earlier.

  Having a man like Matthew Taylor bed her was one thing, but a man like Evan? A man who was a known rake with a reputation for unmatched sexual prowess? That was quite another.

  Cassandra was no shrinking violet and she knew that when she married, her husband would bed her. However, that was when she imagined herself wed to someone like the rather meek and mild Matthew, a man she could control. Or if not control, then a man she could manage. Having lived with Evan for nearly a year now, she knew there was no possible way she could ever hope to manage him. Let alone control him. It was also certain he would take the lead in their bedsport as well. That terrified her. For while she wasn't afraid of Evan, she was afraid of what he might demand from her - and how that would make her feel.

  "She wanted marriage." Cassandra knew she might as well say it as think it, turning her mind back to safer topics like Evan's old mistresses.

  "She did," Evan agreed. "However she also knew that when I was inclined to marry, it could not be to her. We took our pleasure and that was the end of it. And so it shall be for both of us until the line is secure. I will give you pleasure, Cassie. Trust in that if nothing else. Lying with me will not be a chore for you. I promise. I will not allow it to be." He looked at her intently. "Is that...satisfactory? This proposed marriage between us? If it is not, I can see about other arrangements."

  He was giving her a way out of this marriage if she wanted it. However, she could not take it, especially knowing what it would mean not just for her but for everyone who depended upon Berkshire. So while she might be filled with trepidation about becoming the next marchioness - not to mention lying with this strong, virile man sitting next to her - she also knew that she had a duty to all of those who depended upon Evan as well.

  This was also a far cry from the sort of proposal that Cassandra had always dreamed of as a little girl. In her youth, she had dreamed of knights in shining armor and fairy tale castles and promises of eternal love. She had dreamed of falling helplessly in love with her husband, so deeply that she did not know where she ended and he began. When she grew up, she adopted a far more practical viewpoint on marriage but at her heart? She still desired love.

  Most of the time, she liked Evan well enough and he was certainly among the most attractive men she had ever laid eyes upon, if not the most attractive. Even more so than Matthew. However, she had always held out hope for a love match. If she wed Evan, there would be no love. Some days, they might not even like each other very much. Could she live with that? Cassandra did not know.

  "They...are." Bland words to match the bland proposal. Oh, she knew this was a business arrangement, but that did not mean it had to be so passionless.

  Evan dropped to his knees in front of her again, their hands still clasped tightly together. "I will be a good husband to you, Cassandra. I will not hurt you. I could not hurt you. For while I do not love you and you do not love me, I would like to believe that we have come to a mutual sort of friendship and that is far more than most couples enjoy when they wed." He swallowed hard. "I will give you children and then your freedom. It is not perfect but it is what I can offer."

  This version of Evan's proposal still wasn't any better, but Cassandra wasn't expecting it to be. The truth was, her hope of a love match had died long ago, before she had even left Ivy Cottage to journey to London. There had been a time not so long ago that she thought she might soon be rid of Evan Haddington in her life, but now, the ropes that bound them were instead pulling tighter. If she wed him, she would never be free of him.

  Then again, a life without Evan would be...dull. Bland. Uninteresting. Much like his proposal. Would it not be better to choose a life where she would never be bored, even if there was no love, over a life that was empty and devoid of everything joyful?

  "Since you clearly did not hear me the first time, yes, Evan, I will marry you." She closed her eyes before opening them again, a vision of Follett earlier that night as he had reached for her flashing through her mind and a part of her went numb inside. If they did this, there was no going back, but without this marriage, there was no going forward either. "The alternative is not one I wish to consider."

  Evan smiled then and she found herself smiling back despite her fears. "You will not be sorry, Cassandra. I promise. I will be the best husband possible to you."

  Somehow, she doubted that but she did truly believe that Evan would do his best. He would also give her the protection of the Berkshire name, and protection from anything that might harm her, which was something she had not enjoyed for a very long time. For the moment, that was enough. It was not perfect, but it was enough. It would have to be.

  Chapter Seven

  Brambly Fields

  Somerset

  Town Tattler

  Only a week into the Season and already there are numerous scandals in the making. What can be said about the events that transpired at Lord Weston's first-ever ball other than that Mr. Follett was beyond crass and that Lord Berkshire was the epitome of all a gentleman should be. Though it does not seem as if that most memorable night was only four short days ago, I can assure you all that it was. Just as I can assure you that our American Marquess was indeed spotted in the company of his sister's companion, one Miss Beatrice Denton, for a bit longer than was likely strictly necessary. What that man needs is a well-bred woman to tame his wild spirit, but what young lady of good standing would take him on? Honestly, I cannot say.

  There are also several other couples flirting with impropriety as well, chief among them Lady Aurelia Tillsbury and everyone's favorite Bow Street Runner, Mr. Harry Greer. If those two are not properly wed by the end of the Season, I shall eat my favorite hat! Rumor also has it that Lady Miriam Bexley, youngest sister to the Earl of Raynecourt was seen in the company of Lord William Davenport, Earl of Blackthorne. How true this is, I cannot say, but I can say that the two would not suit at all. Though that is a discussion for another time.

  More importantly, tonight will be the annual musicale hosted by Lord and Lady Forsham and I can confirm exclusively that neither our beloved rake, Lord Berkshire, nor his ward Miss Grove will be attending. Even as this paper arrives on your doorstep this morning, the two of them are well ensconced at one of the marquess' various estates so that they might unite in the bonds of holy matrimony. As for the guest list, I am assured that, at present, it is non-existent since the wedding will be small. Or at least the official one will be, for I have no doubt that there will be a grand ball planned for the happy couple when they return to London within a fortnight or so.

  Why not wed here in Town? Why should they? Whatever plans they were making between themselves were cast aside when Follett decided to act the fool. I cannot fault them for choosing a private ceremony with family and without the prying eyes of Society. Whatever you may think their reasons for marrying so hastily might be, I have it on excellent authority that they are not true. Believe if you like or do not. I can't say it matters much to me in the end.

  -Lady A

  It rained on her wedding day. Or perhaps not so much of a true rain as it was a foggy, gray drizzle that simply would not let up. When Cassandra had imagined her wedding day, the happy event always took place under a sunny, cloudless blue sky - which was, she now admitted, quite a bit to hope for in England - with a warm breeze tickling her cheeks as she stood in her ancient fami
ly church in Little Bromley waiting to be wedded to the man of her dreams. The face of her groom had changed over the years, but in each and every scenario, the sun had always been shining. There had never been any rain.

  Then again, she tried to tell herself as she readied for bed, rain on a wedding day was supposed to be a sign of good luck, so there was still room to hope.

  "It was a lovely ceremony, m'lady, if you don't mind me saying so." That came from Cassandra's lady's maid, Mellisande. The older French woman had been attending Cassandra since she had arrived on Berkshire's doorstep the previous year. Having served the previous marchioness, Cassandra had always felt a special kinship with the woman and never more so than now - when Cassandra herself had only just assumed the role of lady of the manor. A role her Aunt Ellie had been the last to hold.

  "Thank you, Mellisande. It was a nice ceremony, wasn't it?"

  Actually, it had been far nicer than Cassandra had anticipated. And she had absolutely nothing to do with it.

  After the night in Evan's study, Cassandra had felt much like a leaf in a rushing stream, simply being pulled along by the forces around her. There was a part of her that had gone numb at the idea of marrying Evan, and it had yet to come back to life. She hadn't truly realized the full impact of what she had agreed to the night of his proposal, but she certainly had the next morning when she had awoken and the reality of marriage to Evan finally took hold.

  She, Cassandra Grove, was going to wed Lord Evan Haddington. Evan the dragon. Evan the eel. She had agreed to wed him and lie with him and give him children. The contracts would be signed soon and there was no going back. And even if she could, what would she go back to? She was too old to be a debutante and if she did not wed Evan, then some other lady would, bringing Cassandra back around to her original problem of where she fit in at Berkshire if she was not Evan's wife. And, of course, there was the little matter of one Mr. Roger Follett, a man who wanted to use her for his own gain.

  So the morning after Evan's fumbling, half-hearted proposal, as she had lain in bed, reality had crashed in all around Cassandra, making her numb inside, so numb that she actually felt nothing at all other than the icy claws of fear. Not that she told anyone, of course. Not even Aunt Louisa.

  Instead, Cassandra simply went about her life, packing for the trip, sending word ahead to Brambly Fields that they would be arriving unexpectedly in a few days, and for the most part going about her life as she always did. She could not do anything else. She was so frozen with fear that she was incapable of doing anything more than getting through the day without crying. This was not at all like her and the numbness made her that much more terrified. Yet she could not shake this paralyzing fear, no matter what she did. So in the end, she did very little at all. It was actually Evan who made most of the arrangements, along with help from Franklin and Aunt Louisa. Cassandra simply could not bring herself to help.

  However as she had stood in the Haddington family chapel earlier that day and in front of an ancient vicar had exchanged her vows with Evan, something had shifted inside of her. Or perhaps it was that frozen part of her finally unthawing, her usual indomitable spirit reemerging from wherever it had been hiding. This was her life, her marriage. She simply could not stand idly by while her life moved around her and finally, just before he had kissed her, Cassandra had woken up enough to realize that she was now married to a man that just a year ago she had dubbed "The Dragon" and swore she never wanted to see again.

  Now? Now she was expected to allow him to bed her. And that single thought still terrified her more than anything.

  Because despite all of the bravery she had shown the night of the proposal, the truth was, the idea of mating with Evan - or any many really - frightened Cassandra more than she could articulate. He was big and strong and...altogether too male. While she might have dreamed of marrying a man like him, there was also a reason she had her sights set on a man more like Matthew Taylor.

  Cassandra's mother had died a long time ago, and in her place, her father had filled her head with dire warnings about men. He did not get into specifics; he did not need to. After all, he had his spinster sister, Cassandra's Aunt Mimsy, for that. And fill Cassandra's head Aunt Mimsy had. She had spoken of the decadently wicked and carnal things that men did and expected a woman to do in the bedchamber. She spoke of pain and fear and duty until Cassandra was afraid to even look at a man - which, of course, had been Aunt Mimsy's plan all along.

  Over time, Cassandra's good sense had prevailed and she was no longer afraid of men. However, she did still have what she felt was a healthy fear of the marriage bed, mostly because she knew from listening to the women of London talk over the last year that Evan was a rake and he did have an unrivaled sexual appetite. So perhaps Aunt Mimsy wasn't wrong about absolutely everything. Just most things.

  Cassandra supposed she could have come right out and asked Evan about the matter. After all, they were to be wed and she had never really feared asking him anything before, not even questions that Society would have deemed rather intimate - especially between an unrelated man and woman. This topic, however, felt too intimate somehow, even though they were going to eventually join their bodies and hopefully create a child. Though even if Cassandra had been able to muster up the courage to approach Evan, she hadn't exactly had the opportunity.

  They had barely even spoken since that night. There had been too much to accomplish in such a short period of time. Then, during the trip to Brambly, Cassandra had ridden in the coach with Aunt Louisa while Evan and Franklin had ridden their horses alongside with the outriders. Once they arrived late last evening, Evan had made short work of dispatching orders to the staff, introducing her as the woman who would be the next Marchioness of Berkshire - as if the staff didn't already know that - and then disappearing into his library with Franklin hot on his heels, leaving Cassandra more than a little befuddled.

  Today had been no different. She had risen late, completely exhausted from the trip, and then was immediately whisked into a copper tub of hot water so that she might bathe and begin preparations for her wedding. Only Aunt Louisa's comforting presence at her side had kept her from simply running for the front door. This was all moving too fast.

  Then, before Cassandra even knew what she was about, she was clad in a dreamy, pale blue silk gown featuring an overlay embroidered with tiny flowers and whisked off to the chapel where Evan waited in his own wedding finery, Berkshire betrothal ring in hand and ready to do the deed. Even the wedding breakfast had been a blur to her. Since they had arrived so late the day before, the "breakfast" was more like an extremely late luncheon - sans many guests - and by the time they had finished eating, darkness had already fallen outside, winter still holding the English countryside deep in her clutches. And Cassandra had been forced to retire to her chambers, Mellisande in tow, to prepare to meet her new husband in the marriage bed.

  She was lucky she had not cast up her accounts on the Turkey carpets that lined the hallway for as nervous as she was.

  "T'was better than most weddings, I expect," her maid replied as she closed the wardrobe door after hanging up Cassandra's wedding frock. "After all, you know your husband well seein' as you lived with 'em for nigh on a year now. Might not always agree, but tis' better to know a man, I would think, than to meet a stranger at the other end of that isle."

  "You have a point," Cassandra relented as she studied her reflection again, twisting this way and that, well aware that if she moved just right, the pert tips of her hardened nipples were clearly visible through the nearly sheer fabric of her rather skimpy nightrail - not that she expected that she would be wearing it long, at least if the rumors about Evan's sexual appetites and proclivities were even partly true.

  Cassandra shivered. She could not help herself. March was always a chilly and damp time of year, but more so this year, she thought. Not even the fire roaring in the grate could truly chase away her chill. She refused to admit even for a moment that the idea of lying with Ev
an physically terrified her. She was made of sterner stuff than that, not to mention that women around the world had been doing this sort of thing for centuries. Some of them even enjoyed themselves, at least if the other rumors she had heard were true. She could do this. It was only Evan after all. Though deep inside, she wondered if she was truly as brave as she had convinced herself she was.

  She was a not a woman prone to hysterics or overreacting. She had a temper, true, but she was no shrinking violet. Except when it came to the bedchamber. Irrational that might be, but it was the truth. Maybe if Aunt Mimsy hadn't been quite so graphic in her depictions of carnal acts, Cassandra might feel differently but the damage was already done and she had no idea if it could ever be undone.

  Mellisande came to stand beside her mistress and gently reached out and squeezed Cassandra's shoulder. "I worked for the previous marquess, my lady, and while I cannot claim to be privy to his private affairs, I will say this. Lord Evan is a far better marquess than your late aunt's husband ever was. And I have every confidence that you will be a better mistress as well."

  Lord, Cassandra hoped so. While it was true that when her father was still alive, she had run Ivy Cottage with brisk efficiency, she had no experience running an entire manor home. Or homes as the case may be. Then again, she had lived within Berkshire's walls for a year and had watched Aunt Louisa handle the staff admirably, taking over when the old woman was not up to the task. How difficult could it be to run a peer's home every day? Likely no more so than allowing Evan to bed her - a topic that was still first and foremost in her mind.

  "Thank you, Mellisande," Cassandra said, stiffening her spine, ready to do her duty. "However do not be surprised if I fail a time or two. I am not so skilled at this as you might think."