A Scandal In the Making

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  A year ago, he would not have believed a life with Cassandra possible, especially not as husband and wife, but now? He could not conceive of a life with out her, actually. That did not mean he loved her. No, never that. But she was quick witted and intelligent, not to mention a tigress in bed. Had he been able to freely choose a bride from all of the debutantes in London, he sincerely doubted that he could have found one more suited to him than Cassandra.

  As the ten o'clock hour arrived, Evan led them into the section of the old building that had once been the nuns' living quarters and spread out a light repast for them that he had instructed Cook to prepare before he left that morning. He had suspected that Cassandra would leave the house without breaking her fast and as they walked, he could hear the rumble of her stomach grow louder and louder.

  He did not do these things because he was in love with her, of course. Rather he did them because he hoped that with all of the coupling they had been doing over the last few days that she might already be with child. Her courses were due soon. It was not something he should know about, really, but from a practical standpoint, he had lived with her for a year now. After some months? Well, a man figured out these sorts of things. It was rather unavoidable, really.

  Therefore, he would do whatever it took to keep his wife healthy and safe. The healthier she was, the more likely - he thought, though he had no medical basis for this - the more likely she was to become pregnant with his child. And then, the sooner she birthed the babe - or if fortune smiled upon them, babes - they could both be free of this troublesome marriage.

  Now as she popped the last bite of cheese into her mouth, Evan wondered if that was, in fact, what he really desired - to be free of Cassandra so that they might lead separate lives. For she really was a joy to be around now that they no longer fought all the time, and she made him happy in a way no other woman ever had. Not even his many mistresses over the years. Would it be so terribly awful to remain with his wife the rest of his days? Despite what he had once believed, perhaps not.

  Then he silently reprimanded himself. Of course separate lives was what he desired. How could he think otherwise? He wanted his mistresses far more than he wanted his wife. He had always believed that. It really was time to return to London before this sojourn in the country addled his wits any further and made him change his mind about topics that had been long-held beliefs.

  "Something amiss, Evan?" Cassandra asked as she moved to get up and stretch her legs.

  "Nothing," he growled as he seized her wrist and held her in place. "At least nothing that a good tumble of my wife won't cure."

  Cassandra laughed and then, to his shock, reached up and undid the first button on her riding habit. Then she undid another and another and still another until they were all undone, almost daring him to touch her. So he did.

  Parting the fabric with cold, trembling hands - for it had to be the cold that made him shake and no other reason - Evan was certain his eyes grew wide as he looked upon Cassandra's bare breasts, her rose-hued nipples already tight buds of anticipation craving his touch. "Lord above," he whispered to no one in particular. "What you do to me, Cassie."

  Once more shocking him with her boldness, she rose and quickly stripped off the rest of her clothes, revealing her bare, creamy skin beneath her habit and not a stitch of clothing more. "And what you do to me, Evan. Turning me into a wanton creature, hungry for your touch."

  Rising himself now, Evan reached for the fall of his own breeches. This woman and her newfound sexuality would be the death of him. But oh, what a way it would be to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  London

  By the time they made the journey back to London nearly a week later, Cassandra was so well versed in the art of lovemaking that she believed that she could even teach a worldly courtesan a thing or two. After that first night together when they had made love nearly all night long, Cassandra and Evan had spent a large part of every day in bed, learning each other's bodies and hoping that she would quickly become with child.

  She felt nothing but pure bliss when she thought of her life, seeing an eternity of endless days of lovemaking with her husband spread out before her. London was sunny and warm for March on the day they arrived, just as her wedding had not been, and the weather reflected her mood perfectly as she settled back into life at Berkshire House. In fact, Mellisande had remarked more than once that Cassandra was fairly glowing with happiness.

  Then, as quickly as her happiness had grown and blossomed, it ended rather abruptly one unusually foggy morning without any sort of warning at all.

  Their first full day back in Town, it became clear that Cassandra was not with child when her courses began, and she became far more ill than she ever had in her entire life at that time of the month. However, what should have been a day or so of discomfort had turned into two and then three, leaving her body weak from blood loss, her chest heaving for breath and her mind a complete muddle. Five days she had suffered through her courses and grown weaker each day until finally there came a day that she could not rise from the bed she now shared with her husband. She was far too weak.

  Though she did not say as much to Evan, Cassandra became convinced that she had, indeed, been with child and then lost the babe shortly after it began to grow within her belly. How she was certain she could not say, for not even the esteemed Dr. Hastings - who had been summoned on the fifth day of her infirmity - had been able to diagnose her one way or the other.

  But Cassandra knew. It was her body and she knew it well. She had been pregnant. Now, she was not. Her illness was a result of her losing the child, and she felt a sense of emptiness and loss for what might have been. The child had not been real to her before that day, but as she lay in bed on that miserable fifth day, allowing the physician to examine her, it became real somehow, and that made what she felt all that much worse.

  After the exam, she had begged Dr. Hastings not to mention her suspicions to Evan, which he agreed to rather grudgingly. Cassandra wanted to be the one to impart the news of the loss to her husband - if she ever did, that is.

  The truth was, Evan had married her to protect her, yes, but he had also wed her with an eye towards children. It was part of their agreement. An heir and a spare and then freedom for both of them. Given Evan's past, Cassandra had to imagine that he was looking forward to that day with great anticipation.

  Her time with him at Brambly Fields, she had concluded as she lay abed, had addled her brain and made her forget their bargain, their understanding. Now in London again and faced with the cold reality of the loss of their child, the truth of everything came crashing back down upon her, leaving Cassandra feeling more hollow than before.

  Evan was not in love with her. He never would be. He preferred his mistresses and his libertine lifestyle. Their marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement in order to save her from Follett and for Evan to finally secure the marquisate for his own. Any emotions she thought existed between them were nothing more than figments of her imagination, bits of wishes that would never come true.

  Despite the fact that he seemed well pleased with her in bed, she was under no illusions that it was anything more than an attempt to get her with child. After all, he had bedded far more beautiful, far more creative women than she. Indeed, Mrs. Harcourt was renowned for her skills within the bedchamber - as was Evan. It would be of little surprise to anyone that he would be itching to return to that hedonistic way of life he had enjoyed before Cassandra had come crashing into his life, nearly costing him the marquisate and in need of saving from a horrible fate.

  Cassandra had also come to the conclusion that his very offering to wed her in order to save her was yet another reason she owed him his freedom as quickly as possible. He had given up his life of pleasure to save her. That selfless act deserved repayment, preferably repayment in the form of an heir as soon as she could provide one.

  If Evan loved her? Well, then that would be different. But he did not and whil
e Cassandra was growing to look forward to his presence in her life every day, she knew she should not. He was not hers to keep. At least not forever. Five years at most, she suspected. Therefore, she would do well not to become overly attached to the man. After all, he was going to leave her. She knew that. She had from the first.

  That was why when she lay abed resting and regaining her strength once the bleeding had stopped, Cassandra had also been consumed by an enormous amount of guilt. Here was a man who had given up everything for her and she could not do the one thing he asked in return - give him an heir. She needed to do better, though in her heart, she also understood that fate and her body had a great deal to do with her end of the bargain.

  What made the entire situation worse was Evan's constant hovering by her bedside, as if he truly cared for her. Well, he did care about her - in a fashion. Cassandra knew that. He had married her to save her after all. But the way he checked on her several times a day smacked more of something a man in love might do for his wife. It was a nice gesture and she tried not to read too much into his constant attentions. However, that was difficult when he did things like bring her tea trays instead of sending a maid to see to the task and keeping her company for an hour or two each afternoon until she begged him to stop making her laugh so that she could rest.

  It was a continuation of his behavior from Brambly Fields and the sweet gestures confused her. They also made her heart and head hurt like the devil and probably delayed her recovery for a day or two longer than was necessary. Not that Evan seemed to care, though in her opinion, he should have. Instead, he continued to attend to her like a doting husband, making the pain in her heart wedge in just that much deeper.

  How would she ever let him go when the time came? As he would say, she had no bloody fucking idea - even though she knew that it would be necessary in the end.

  Now, after two full days abed and an additional two days of rest, Cassandra finally felt well enough to make her return to Society. She and Evan had decided upon Lord and Lady Raynecourt's ball for the occasion since the earl was a close friend and Cassandra was still not as steady on her feet as should have been.

  "Are you certain that you are up to this, queen?" Evan asked her as they stood at the edge of the glittering ballroom, watching a veritable sea of people move about just below them. "Our situation is different now. We are married. There are bound to be questions."

  "I am well and I can navigate this, I am certain." She reaffirmed her statement with a sharp nod, though her stomach still roiled a bit even though she was standing still. "We know these people, after all. It is not as if we are among strangers." Her words might have been brave but the truth was, Cassandra did not feel brave at all. In fact, she was more than a bit terrified. She might be Lady Berkshire now, but at heart, she was still just plain and insignificant Cassandra Grove from Little Bromley. Hardly the sort of woman suited to assume the title of marchioness. Or wed a man who looked like Evan and be the mother of his children. That, coupled with the guilt over the loss of the child she could not seem to shake, left her feeling as if her skin was too tight and as if her head was not fully attached to her body.

  "As long as you are certain you are well." For once, Evan truly did look worried as he nodded in the direction of a small group of men standing off to the side. "I see Frost and Hallstone are in attendance this evening and I really must speak with them both. I missed a vote in Lords last week while we were in the country and I have yet to hear the outcome. Will you be well while I talk with them alone for a moment or two?"

  Cassandra rolled her eyes, knowing that was what Evan expected of her, even though she still felt nervous and jittery. She had no idea what was wrong with her, but she needed to regain her footing and be her old self again. Starting now. "Be gone, dragon." She waved a hand in the air. "I am a big girl and can take care of myself. I shall go in search of Abby. I saw Hathaway pass by earlier, so I am certain she is about."

  Evan did not look convinced and once more, she wished that he would not look at her as if she was the only woman in the world. It made the fact that she had yet to work up the never to tell him she had lost their child that much more difficult to endure. He deserved better than a wife who lied to him about something so important. "Only if you are certain."

  "I am. Now go." If she could have pushed him without making a spectacle of herself, she would have.

  With one final look back at her, Evan finally turned and made his way across the ballroom towards his friends. He still did not look convinced that she was fine, but she truly was. Or she would be, once she found her social footing again. She had to be. There was no other option for her.

  However finding that old footing was something that proved easier said than done as she moved among the Society matrons in search of Abby. As she passed by groups of women, Cassandra could not help but overhear snippets of their conversations, likely said just loud enough for her to hear.

  Simply scandalous, I tell you...living together for a year...likely bedding the man from the first, if you ask me...a common whore...not even of Reynolds blood, really...it's the making of a scandal for certain...he'll never be faithful...likes his mistress and whores too much...with child...I have no idea, but perhaps...how on earth did she trap him...she's far from beautiful...he will leave her eventually, mark my words...so common...never keep a man like him happy...little better than a whore herself...he deserves better...someone of his own class...she'll give him an heir and then he'll be gone...he won't lie with a woman of her low birth forever...should have married well and not the first chit that caught his eye and opened her legs...so plain looking...what does he see in her, really...

  Cassandra's face flamed with embarrassment. She had thought she would be safe here at the Raynecourt's ball. She was among friends, after all, or at the very least, good acquaintances that she hoped would become true friends in time.

  Her chest felt tight and once more, fresh guilt washed over her. This was wrong. They should not have come. She was not ready and not strong enough yet. She needed to leave. She could have the coachman return her to Berkshire House and then return for Evan when he was ready to depart. Her husband would not miss her. He was likely discussing politics and selecting his next potential mistress at this very moment.

  Cassandra spun around blindly and stumbled through the nearest door she could find, only to discover that it lead to another, dimmer hallway, this one not in use for the ball but still open and illuminated, likely in case of emergencies. Her blood roared loudly in her ears and once more, she felt dizzy, just as she had at home the day her courses began. She had never been a particularly healthy woman, but never was she this ill, either.

  Beginning to sweat a bit now, she reached for another door and opened it blindly, only to see a bit of pale pink silk followed by a flash of royal blue superfine disappear through another door on the far side of the room. Lovely. She had just stumbled upon a lovers' assignation. Just then, an image of Evan being the man in question flashed through her mind and Cassandra thought she might be ill. Even though she knew good and well he was not wearing blue this evening.

  "Easy, my lady," a deep voice behind her rumbled like a coming storm. "It is not so bad as all of that, is it?"

  For a moment, raw panic gripped Cassandra and fears of another encounter with Follett rose up within her. Then she looked up and saw eyes so dark they were almost black as midnight. She knew those eyes. They had been kind to her when she had first come to London a year ago. They were the eyes of the Bloody Duke.

  "Your grace." She swallowed hard and willed her breathing to slow. She was safe now. No one crossed the Bloody Duke and lived to tell the tale. "Forgive me if I do not curtsey."

  He smiled at that, his longer canine teeth giving him a slightly wolfish appearance. Yet there was no doubt his smile was genuine. "I think you can be forgiven, Miss Grove. Or should I refer to you as Lady Berkshire."

  She sighed wearily. "You have heard."

  "You are the
most popular topic of conversation in all of London at the moment," he admitted as he helped steady her. Though she should not be, she was grateful for the assistance. "Very few thought that Berkshire would marry, or at least not until he was well into his fourth decade."

  "Ours is not a conventional marriage." Despite his reputation for ruthlessness, Lord Candlewood's presence was a calming one, and Cassandra found that she was beginning to catch her breath again. "You are the Bloody Duke, so I assume you already know that."

  He inclined his head with a haughty smile. "I do. However, what I have heard and what I see are often times two very different things." Candlewood offered Cassandra his arm when he was certain she was steady enough. "Walk with me." It was not a request.

  She placed her hand on his arm. He was far more muscled than Evan, but perhaps a bit too much for her tastes. She found that she preferred the muted, understated power of her husband to the quietly lethal strength of this man.

  "Thank you," she finally managed. "I am not certain what came over me just then."

  "Bad nerves. Guilt. Fear. A mix of things, I suspect." He did not look at her as he spoke. "You are not the first newly married woman to question her husband's interest, though I can assure you, you have naught to fear."

  "How did you..." Cassandra trailed off and shook her head. "Never mind. You are a spy."

  He stopped before they reached the end of the shadowy hallway that would lead them back to the ballroom. Beyond the closed door, she could hear muted music and laughter. None of it seemed quite real. Nothing about her life since she had returned to London seemed real. Especially not tonight.

  "I was a spy," he corrected softly. "Though I no longer am, one often cannot help but continue to be what they once were. Leaving the spy game has not come as easily to me as I would have hoped. So believe me when I tell you that Lord Berkshire cares for you deeply, my lady. This is a side of him that I have not seen before. Dare I say it that I believe he is falling in love with you."