She paused for a moment as he locked the door behind them. "The orangery? Evan, I thought you despised this place. Why in the world would you bring me here?"
He had despised this place. Last year he had even made plans to tear the structure down once he fully took control of the marquisate, hating the way the heavy iron bars and the thick, carved door stuck out so oddly from the otherwise sleek and stately elegant townhouse. Or rather, Mrs. Harcourt had hated the orangery and, given that she had an eye towards becoming the next marchioness, had often whispered in Evan's ear about tearing down what she had termed "the monstrosity." He now wondered how much of his dislike of this place was truly his and how much had come from his former mistress, a woman who sought to obtain a position she would never have been able to reach. No matter what.
"Well, the place looks marginally better since you put your hand to improving the beast." Here with Cassandra, Evan didn't want to think about the women who had been in his bed before her. Not today. And not even Mrs. Harcourt, a woman he had once fancied himself marginally in love with. It seemed both wrong and disrespectful towards his wife. She deserved better. "Looks almost charming, I'd say."
Reaching up, Cassandra tugged off her blindfold and he could see the delight in her eyes when she fully took in the additional improvements he had made to the space over the last week or so, based largely upon what she had already done and the suggestions she had made to him over dinner in weeks gone by.
"Oh, Evan! It is lovely! Simply lovely!" She spun around in a slow circle, taking in all the work that he had done in here recently. Given her attraction to the Grecian folly, Evan had ordered the space redone in stark white tones with blue highlights, giving the interior - which had previously been a slate gray - a sun-splashed look meant to evoke shades of the Greek Isles.
Bright, dazzling pieces of blue inlaid glass had been added to some of the support columns, creating mosaics where previously there had only been blank surfaces. There were deep greens and brilliant reds scattered about in the designs as well, all designed to bring the warmth of Greece to the chilly shores of England. And in the middle of everything, the orange trees that Cassandra had begged Evan to purchase last year grew tall and proud. The trees were still barren of fruit but there was promise in the new buds that dotted the thick branches.
"They are thriving! How wonderful!" There was awe in Cassandra's voice and she scampered forward to stroke the delicate leaves of the trees with her fingertips. "Oh, Evan! This is magnificent!"
Her heart was in her eyes then and finally - finally! - Evan had the distinct impression that Cassandra understood in some small way that he cared for her. Her face was a wealth of emotions, all of them making her far more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. This might not be love, but it was something far deeper than mere caring. They shared this new, raw emotion between them. They both felt it deep in their very souls. Evan could tell with just a single look at Cassandra. Perhaps he did not need his mistresses after all. Perhaps all he needed was his wife.
"Do you like it?" Lord, he prayed that she did.
"I love it." She was all but breathless now, her eyes aglow with happiness. "This is perfect! Thank you."
Evan cleared his throat, not accustomed to this sort of lavish praise from her. "There, ah, is a picnic as well, if you'd like. It's not much since we have that dinner party at Lord and Lady Ardenton's home this evening, but I thought it might be nice to have Cook put together a small repast. Just in case."
He directed her to a small table and two chairs that he had set up in the orangery earlier. Someone, likely one of the maids, had even added a lacy table covering, giving the entire setting a slightly romantic look. Was every member of his household staff attempting to get him to fall in love with his wife? From the look of things, yes.
He should reprimand them all for their sheer cheek. But he would not. Not when the small touches they added brought so much happiness to his wife's eyes.
Still smiling, Cassandra allowed Evan to seat her in one of the chairs and then waited barely a beat before she picked up one of Cook's gooseberry tarts and popped the flaky pastry into her mouth.
"Heavenly," she declared as she chewed. "I have to confess that I have been ravenous this week. This is wonderful. Thank you."
"Likely all of the late hours we have been keeping," he teased. "I fear I have been draining you of your strength." Now that he looked at Cassandra, she did seem a trifle pale and he prayed to God she was not about to become ill again. Her courses were due any day and last month? Well, he did not think he could go through that sort of horror again. With luck, she was only tired. He had been fucking her rather often, sometimes as often as four or five times a day. That was not counting their evening activities, of course.
Evan had tried to convince himself he was bedding her so frequently simply because he was eager to get about the business of begetting his heir, but the truth was, he simply adored Cassandra's body - and her. In fact, he all but worshiped her, frightening as that concept was. Coupled with the fact that she was far more adventurous in the bedchamber than he could have ever anticipated, especially after the night of their wedding, he could not get enough of her and tumbled her every chance he had. More than that, he simply enjoyed spending time in her company. A man should not enjoy such a thing, or so conventional thinking went, but he could not help himself.
Not that Cassandra was complaining, either, for she seemed just as eager to touch him as he was to caress her. Evan also did not believe her attentions and desires had all that much to do with the subject of procreation, either. At least not any longer. Perhaps it had at first. He would allow that.
Now, she was looking at him with those luminous eyes again and once more, he felt all the blood in his body rush directly to his cock and he wanted nothing more than to clear the table in one fell swoop, lay her down and take her right there among her beloved orange trees.
"I don't mind you tumbling me," she said softly as she scooped up another tart. "This is...more than I ever expected from a marriage, Evan. Thank you for that."
What she truly meant by that he could not guess but instead of questioning her, instead he leaned across the table, drew her face into his hands and kissed her deeply. "You are welcome, Cassie. And remember, we are only just at the very beginning."
Some sort of churning in his gut hit him just then, a wave of feelings rising up inside of him as he gazed at her with what he was certain was a sappy, stupid expression on his face. No. His emotions were too close to the surface. He could not allow her to glimpse his turmoil. At least not until he could sort out what all of this meant. Indeed, if it meant anything at all. He still wasn't certain it did.
Cassandra opened her mouth to speak but before she could reply, Evan brought her to her feet and swept the food and dishes off of the table, precisely as he had imagined doing earlier. Then he laid her delectable body down on the newly cleared table and slipped her breasts free from her gown before beginning to suckle at her slightly swollen nipples. This was sex. This was fucking. This he understood.
And right there in the middle of the orangery, likely for the first time since this convoluted mess of a marriage had begun, Evan made love to his wife. In the end, what they shared wasn't fucking and it wasn't sex. It was making love and he prayed that she would not be able to tell the difference.
Chapter Seventeen
"We can depart whenever you like." Evan leaned down and whispered in Cassandra's ear. He watched her shiver, though whether it was from the cold or his closeness he could not say. He rather hoped her reaction was due to his proximity. It meant she was feeling something for him, that she was not completely immune to him - perhaps even the first stirrings of love within her breast. He could only hope.
"Soon enough," she replied, smiling up at him, that same light that had been dancing in her eyes ever since the day in the orangery still shining brightly. That had been nearly a week ago now, and there was a part of him that never wanted
to see that light die out.
Since that day, he had Cassandra had shared many more intimate moments, so many that he had finally come to the decision that it was time to let her refusal to tell him about their lost child go for good. She had her reasons, and while the notion of her silence still bothered him a bit, he had decided to not press her on the issue or dwell on it himself any longer. What was past was past and it was now time for that to be the end of the matter.
To that end, Evan had instructed Franklin to draw up the final papers for transferring ownership of the Gray Ladies to Cassandra. The transfer was a little thing now, hardly worth all of the fuss and fighting over the matter they had done in the early days. In fact, she barely even mentioned the organization any longer, save for an inquiry with Franklin every so often about how the woman in charge, a Miss Margaret Cooper, was faring with the running of things.
Franklin - who was likely even now still entertaining Aunt Louisa back at Berkshire House since the two older people had decided against attending the entertainment this evening - had handed Evan the papers just as they were about to depart for Lady Knightly's spring ball and now Evan had them tucked discreetly in the inner pocket of his evening coat. He hoped that at some point this evening he would have the opportunity to present them to Cassandra, giving her a gift that, for once, truly came from his heart rather than his bank accounts.
Cassandra. His wife. His lover. The woman who had come to mean so very, very much to him.
She was resplendent this evening in a gown of deep blue silk that set off her auburn hair like fire. At her throat was a strand of sapphires and matching earbobs dangled from her lobes. However, it was the way her gown dipped low in the back, exposing a rather shocking amount of bare, silken flesh that was driving him stark-raving mad at the moment. That was also the reason why he wished to depart as soon as they possibly could so that he could take her to bed. He could not get enough of his wife and he wondered if that would ever change. He desperately hoped not.
When Cassandra had emerged from her chambers earlier that evening, Evan had thought he would be able to control himself and his unruly body until they returned home. Yet even as he sat sedately across from her in the carriage, he felt his blood beginning to hum with the need to touch her and his cock begin to ache with the need to be inside of her.
This was not good. He knew that. He should not desire his wife so damn much, but he did and he knew of nothing that would cure this affliction. If he even wished to be cured. At present, he wasn't certain that he did.
"Yes, well I know you have not been feeling quite yourself as of late, so if you wish to leave, you have naught but to say so." The last thing Evan wanted was for Cassandra to become ill. The fever she had suffered last fall had all but wrecked him. He could admit that now. He refused to think about the day she had lost their child. Some events were better left in the past.
"I am fine, dragon," she chastised lightly. "Now go find a card game or something to occupy yourself until the dancing begins. I have yet to dance a proper waltz with my husband and we will not be leaving here tonight until I do."
"Very well." He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek for they were out in public after all. It would not do for him to be seen undressing his wife in the middle of a peer's ballroom. Though he was certainly thinking about doing just that. "I see Lord Radcliffe over there and there is a matter I'd like to speak with him about."
She flicked her fingers at him impatiently. "And I see Lady Hathaway just over there by the terrace. I was hoping to talk her into a trip to this sweet little book shop I found the other day when I was out with Aunt Louisa. It's not nearly so crowded as Hatchard's and it has the latest Mrs. Kingsley and the Black Pirate novel in stock. Part six, I think. Or so the sign in the window indicated. I know she has been looking for a copy of her own as of late. Lady Hallstone wants hers returned to her, if you can imagine such a thing."
"Be off with you, then, queen," Evan replied, giving her hand a squeeze and resisting the urge to chuckle at his wife's comments. "But the moment the musicians start up for that waltz, I shall be coming to find you."
Then he was gone, leaving Cassandra alone in the crowded ballroom. She watched him walk away from her, his wide shoulders filling out his fitted evening coat so perfectly, the way his trim waist tapered down to an arse that she knew to be particularly fine when naked. Yes, he was her husband and she adored him so very foolishly. She simply hoped she could keep him for longer than the time it took to fill a nursery.
"Ogling your husband?" she heard a voice at her shoulder ask. "Well, when he looks like that one does, I can hardly say I'm surprised."
Cassandra turned to find the dowager Duchess of Fielding watching Evan depart through the crowd. "Your grace!"
"Eh, I'm not so old that I'm dead yet, gel," the dowager replied. The older woman was known for her feistiness among other things, constantly giving her widower son fits as he tried to keep her sharp tongue contained. "And he's a fine man no matter how you look at him. Better than that other man who keeps eyeing you. Follows you around like he's a man bound for the gallows and you're his last meal. I'd be careful of that one if I were you, gel."
"What other man?" Cassandra hadn't noticed any man following her. Or even looking at her for that matter. Who would, after all? She was a married woman!
The dowager inclined her head to the right. "That one."
In the distance, Cassandra could see a tall, thin man lurking about the doors that led to the terrace. Precisely where Abby had just been standing. It was Matthew. "Oh, no. Not him."
"Yes, him." The dowager turned Cassandra around by the elbow and began shepherding her towards a small cluster of women, among them Lady Hallstone and Lady Ardenton. "Don't know the cad's name, but I can guess. That one's trouble, he is. Nasty bit of business that we'd all do well to keep you safe from. After all, not many men of his station skulking about London these days, is there?"
Cassandra shook her head. "No, likely not. What on Earth is he doing here?"
The dowager harrumphed. "Looking for you, gel. Trying to cause trouble. What other reason would there be?" Then, just before they reached Cassandra's friends the older woman paused. "The only thing a man like that is about is trouble. Stay as far away from him as possible." Then, the woman's entire demeanor changed and she all but swept into the circle of women with a wide smile on her face, dragging Cassandra with her.
For the better part of the next quarter hour, Cassandra kept one ear on the conversation going on around her and one eye on the man across the room who had yet to move away from the potted plants he seemed determined to hide behind. Precisely as Lady Fielding and warned.
Cassandra wanted Matthew gone - now - but she couldn't very well march up to her hostess and demand such a thing. So instead, she made it a point to never be alone, always keeping at least one of her friends within arm's reach. Even when she was surrounded by a veritable gaggle of other women. There was strength in numbers after all.
It was not a perfect plan, but it worked well enough and by the time the first strains of music began to swell through the ballroom, Matthew had disappeared and Evan was by her side once more. Precisely as he had promised.
Evan had been the perfect gentleman as of late, doting on her every day and helping them both to settle into a comfortable routine. This was how she had always imagined marriage would be but had never dared to dream. Nor had she expected to find such magical perfection and harmony with a man like Evan.
However, Cassandra knew she could not go on much longer without telling him the truth of their lost child. He needed to know and if they truly had any hope of making this marriage work, she had to be honest with him. If, after she told him, he hated her? Well, then she would live with the consequences. It would be nothing more than a bed of her own making after all.
Now, however, was not the time for such a heavy conversation. Perhaps when they returned home, but not now. Not when the chandelier overhead sparkled like a thousa
nd diamonds and outside, a storm raged, flashing jagged bolts of lightning through the night sky. The storm out there matched the storm raging inside of her, but Cassandra sought to quell the darkly swirling emotions and instead, simply enjoy this night. After all, this was her first true waltz with Evan as her husband. It should be and would be a moment to remember.
"A penny for your thoughts, queen," he teased her and drew her into his arms, far closer than the dance and Society actually permitted. "Are you still not feeling well? Again, we can leave if you like."
"I am tired," she confessed. "I have been all day, but I don't wish to leave just yet. We have not had our dance."
He shrugged. "There will be others."
"Not like this one." She shook her head. "Tonight is different."
Around them the air was charged and she could almost feel the press of the storm in her bones. A part of her feared that if she was not careful, tonight, all that she cherished would come crashing down around her, though she knew that was nothing more than foolish, fanciful thinking. That was flighty Cassandra, the one who argued with Evan at the drop of a hat, and she was attempting not to be that woman any longer.
"One dance and then we shall depart. Agreed?" If she didn't know any better, she would swear that true concern - and perhaps something more - was etched on Evan's face as he led her to the dance floor, still holding her far too close.
"Agreed," she said as she allowed him to pull her scandalously close now as the waltz began. "But first, this dance."
Evan shifted her in his arms and she looked up so she could see his eyes clearly, more gray now than green. The way he was holding her spoke to a tenderness and depth of feeling he had never admitted and when they began to dance, she felt his grip tighten as if he was worried about her sliding away from him. But she would never do that.
Cassandra loved Evan. Shocking as the notion was, it was also true. She loved him and wished to be with him forever as his wife. Not just the woman to fill his nursery. Given the gentle way he was holding her and the look of something so very, very close to devotion shimmering in his eyes, for the first time, she thought they might actually have a chance at the sort of marriage she had always envisioned. Oh, she so dearly hoped so.
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