Cassandra hadn't known that but now that she did, she was grateful. "I don't want to see you again, Matthew. I want you to go away. I told you this."
"And I wish to bed you." He was still advancing upon her. "Out of the two of us, I am fairly certain that I will be the one to receive what they desire."
He shifted to his side and Cassandra shifted with him, not wanting to allow him a chance to grab her. However, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the edge of the pianoforte and quickly understood that he had been slowly maneuvering her away from the door and into a corner. A corner populated with all sorts of additional musical instruments left over from a past musicale. A corner where it would be very difficult for her to escape. No wonder she had been unable to find the blasted door!
"I don't want you, Matthew. I don't want to see you or speak with you and I certainly have no wish for you to bed me! I don't know how much clearer I can make that." To her left was a violin and she wondered for a moment if that might make a suitable weapon. It might be all she had.
"And I don't care what you want," he hissed, quickening his pace and forcing her backward into the corner. "I want what I want and what I want is my cock inside that perfectly sweet little cunny of yours, Cassandra. I want you swelling with my child. Not his! You were supposed to be mine, damn it and I hate my father for what he has done!"
She shook her head. "Then you hate yourself as well," she replied tartly, "for in the end, it is you who made the choice. Not your father."
"Damn you!" he growled and grabbed for her again.
This time, she had nowhere to go and he was too quick, Matthew's hands grabbing at her wrists like a vice. He yanked her forward and she stumbled directly into his arms.
Cassandra struggled but it was no use and he drew her closer, wrapping his arms around her like a vice, pinning her hard against him. She looked up, hoping that she might reason with him, but it was a foolish thing to do she quickly realized. Without warning, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers - so hard that they hurt. He was holding her so tightly that she wasn't able to struggle much, though she did kick at him with her feet, though to no avail.
Matthew's kiss was wet and sloppy and tasted vaguely like onions mixed with cheap scotch. He drove his tongue along the seam of her lips but somehow, she managed to keep her mouth clamped shut. If he wanted such an intimacy, he would have to take it from her by force because she would not give in to him willingly. Not on his life. Or hers.
In fact, she could almost feel his surprise at her resistance from the way he treated her so roughly. It was as if he believed that the moment he kissed her she would immediately give in and return his amorous attentions with ones of her own.
Except that she would do no such thing. She desired one man and one man only - Evan. Her husband.
"Open for me," Matthew demanded harshly. "I want to taste you." He was expecting her retort, but she kept her mouth shut and shook her head as roughly as she could.
Clearly growing frustrated, Matthew reached his hand - the one not presently groping her arse, that was - up between them to grip her jaw. She struggled harder then, knowing that if he forced her mouth open, she would not be able to stop him. She wanted to kick harder and scream and cry but any movement she made would leave her vulnerable to this man and she refused to be vulnerable. That left her no choice but to fight. Perhaps if she bit him...
Suddenly, Cassandra felt herself being all but ripped from Mathew's arms. Stumbling backward, she caught her balance on the edge of that dratted piano and steadied herself. Her knees were shaking and her hair had come loose from its elaborate topknot, falling into her eyes so that she could not see. Still, she was no longer in Matthew's arms, which at present was the only thing she cared about.
She was free! Thank God! Finally! Straightening her gown, she reached up to push her hair out of her eyes, waves of relief washing over her. However before she could thank her savior, she found herself staring down one extremely angry dragon. And he did not look to be in the mood for any sort of thanks. Especially not from her.
This was, by far, the angriest she had ever seen him and she paused a moment before speaking, though that was partly because his gaze was fixed on Matthew, whom he clutched by the lapels of his evening jacket.
Then, as if remembering that he was a gentleman, Evan shoved Matthew backward, but unlike Cassandra, he caught himself quickly. He also did not look the least bit concerned. Knowing her husband as she did, Cassandra thought that was a very unwise move on Matthew's part.
"If you touch my wife again, I will kill you." Evan's eyes flashed dangerously. "Am I clear on that, Mr. Taylor?"
"And if I've already had her?" The other man smirked and Cassandra flinched, knowing he was both lying and playing a deadly game. There also hadn't been enough time for a tryst, but then again, Evan might not realize that.
Instead of lashing out physically, Evan snarled, the white of his teeth flashing in the dim light. "Then I will see your worthless hide made into a rug for my study. Do not test me, Taylor, for I am in no mood for your games. Nor are my friends just beyond that door who will be through to this room in a moment should I call them."
"Oh, yes, the all-powerful Lord Berkshire and his friends." Matthew sniggered. "That power didn't stop your wife from spreading her legs for me a time or two."
"She was an innocent before we wed!" Evan's eyes were wild with rage and Cassandra was a bit more frightened now than she had been a moment ago.
"I didn't say it was before."
Evan charged Matthew then and knocked the other man to the ground. Musical instruments crashed to the ground around them as the two men grappled with each other. Matthew reached for something and Cassandra had to stifle a shriek, not wanting to distract Evan who was already reaching for a weapon of his own. When Matthew lunged, however, Evan wasn't expecting the blow and the two men crashed into the wall, knocking over several vases on the shelf that then crashed to the floor and all but exploded in a shower of crystal shards.
Cassandra did scream when Matthew seemed to get the upper hand for a moment, rolling them both across the floor until Evan's face was cut by the scattered pieces of crystal. Her scream must have finally pushed the men waiting beyond the door into action for just as Evan landed a good right hook to Matthew's jaw, the room was suddenly ablaze with light and men's shouting.
She cowered back against the piano for safety, watching as Lord Hunt and Lord Underhill stormed into the room and grasped Matthew by his shoulders while Lord Hathaway and Lord Raynecourt urged a still fighting Evan to his feet.
"I want that bastard gone!" Evan roared, the dragon in him returning full force. "Now! Before I snap his bloody neck!"
"Now, now," Raynecourt cautioned gently. "None of that. He's not worth hanging for, Berkshire."
"I want him dead!" Evan was bellowing so loudly now that the chandelier overhead shook with the force of his words.
Underhill, a man whom Cassandra didn't know well, raised an eyebrow. He was recognized throughout the ton, however, for being an extremely patient man and possessing a rather dry sense of humor - both quite necessary since he had literally come back from the dead and his pursuit of Lady Charlotte Clearly was being blocked at every turn by her father, Lord Waverly.
"Would you settle for out of London, perhaps?" Underhill asked.
"And never to return?" That came from Lord Hunt. "I feel certain that Candlewood can make the necessary arrangements."
Between the two men, Matthew shook with a mix of rage and indignation. "I will not be banished!"
"You'll happily be banished or we will allow Berkshire here to snap your neck." Hathaway looked over to Evan who was leaning up against a chair and breathing heavily at the moment. Some of the initial fight had gone out of him, but Cassandra did not doubt that her husband would attack Matthew again if provoked in the slightest.
Raynecourt studied his gloved hands as if looking for loose threads. "Something about assaulting his wife?" He
looked a bit studious just then until he smiled and Cassandra could see a hint of something deeply wicked within him, much like she could Evan on occasion. "And there were witnesses. Or so I heard." He went back to studying his gloves again and suddenly, she knew she was seeing the training he had received from the Bloody Duke first hand.
"Four witnesses," chimed in Hunt who seemed to act as the Greek chorus of the group. It was a little surreal if she did say so herself.
"They all saw what happened," Underhill said a little too cheerfully for Cassandra's liking and her stomach churned a bit. "Saw you attacking the man's wife. He had to defend her honor."
"It's the only gentlemanly thing to do," Hunt chimed in again, clearly having far too much fun with this situation than was warranted.
"Gentleman." Evan finally spoke. Though he was still breathing heavily and a thin rivulet of blood ran down his cheek where he had been cut by the crystal, he did not seem inclined to violence at the moment. On the other hand, Cassandra knew him well enough to know that he might well be faking this calm demeanor. It would not be the first time. "If you would please remove the refuse? I'd like a word in private with my wife."
Hathaway nodded. "As you like, Berkshire. Just don't to anything foolish." He helped Hunt and Underhill manage the still sputtering and fuming Matthew, whose lip had already begun to swell from where Evan had landed his blow. The men were quite literally dragging him from the room, not that she cared. In fact, she was glad to see him go.
"We won't be far if you need us," Raynecourt offered as he paused in front of Cassandra. "That goes for you, as well, my lady." Then he and the others were gone leaving Cassandra and Evan alone in the once-more-silent music room.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything, though Cassandra had no idea what she would say first. She wanted to explain away what Evan had seen, but she was smart enough to know that words could not erase what one saw with one's own eyes. She wanted to beg forgiveness, though she had nothing to beg for. She had been accosted and assaulted by Matthew. Yes, she could have left but she had tried and had not gotten very far. She wanted to offer him solace, tell him that she was thankful for what he had done, coming to save her from that madman.
However, she said none of those things, uncertain even where to begin. Usually, she was so very good with words. But not tonight.
It was Evan who moved first. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out the packet of papers he had instructed Franklin to draw up earlier. With a snort of disgust, he tossed them at her feet.
"The Gray Ladies. They are yours, as promised, my dear. Franklin drew those up earlier. I was going to present them to you tonight, but it never seemed the right time." He looked away for a moment before pinning her with his iron gaze once more. "I wanted the moment to be perfect. Special. I wanted to make certain you knew this gift came from my heart. That it was not business." He shook his head. "More fool me, as they say."
"You didn't have to do this." Cassandra's words were a mere whisper. "I no longer want them. They're not important to me now." She wanted to add that she no longer cared because she had a husband that she loved but she didn't dare. She didn't want him to throw that love back in her face.
He gave her another look of disgust. "Take them. I don't want them. I never did."
She was silent again, staring numbly at the papers. "Then why did you fight me?" It didn't matter, really. Other things were more important at the moment. Still, she did wish to know.
"You know why. I needed to preserve the marquisate. I could not risk losing all I had gained because I had not yet wed." Evan was silent for a moment. "I also did so because I could." He wore a haughtily look on his face now and instantly, Cassandra was transported back to that first day in his study. Standing before her was that Evan, the one so cold and remote and angry that she had dubbed him "dragon." She didn't like this version of him and wanted her kind, loving, humorous husband back. "Because you wanted them and I enjoyed getting a rise out of you. It was a game. I told you that from the first." He tilted his head to the side. "Even then I desired you, Cassie. God only knows why, but I did. Perhaps I should have done less thinking with my cock and more with my head, eh?"
She took a step towards him. She would not let him do this, not when they were so close to being truly happy. "Do not cheapen what we share, Evan. You know as well as I that this was no love match between us."
His shoulders slumped forward then and that scared her a little for she had never seen him look more defeated than he did just then. "Point to you, Cassandra. You have learned this game well and know how to draw blood most effectively. I would not have expected it of you, truthfully. No, ours was not a love match and we should not pretend that it was. It was business. I was a fool to ever think otherwise."
But it turned into so much more.
She wanted to say just that, but once more, the words died on her tongue. She ached everywhere, her body feeling as if it was drained of all its blood. Her heart still pumped but she felt dead inside, as if all of the joy and happiness in her life had been sucked out of her. More than that, she felt old, almost ancient, and she wondered how her life had fallen apart so completely in such a short amount of time.
She believed they were happy - or were well on their way to being anyway. Now the remains of their relationship were just as shattered as Lady Knightly's vases and every bit as sharp.
Cassandra gazed at the man she loved with all of her heart and wondered where they went from here. She had no idea. All she knew was that the idea of not having him in her life was almost as painful as if someone had cut off her arm. This was not good. Not at all. And it was made even worse by the fact that, no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not find her voice to begin to repair the damage that had been wrought upon her marriage.
If her marriage was even repairable. She wasn't certain that it was.
For long, seemingly eternal moments, Evan stood there staring at Cassandra, his chest still heaving, though the fight had long since ended. The room was silent save for their breathing and the air around them thick, almost stifling. He hurt everywhere, every part of him aching and not just from the fight. In his chest, his heart was shattered, no different than the crystal whatnots he and Taylor had crashed into.
Cassandra wasn't speaking a word, which was not at all like her. Normally, the woman was so quick and sharp with her tongue that a man never knew what hit him. So if they were to move forward at all, he had to be the one to speak first. If only finding his voice, as well, was that easy. Yet somehow, he finally managed.
"So? Did you lie with that cur as he claims?"
Evan's words hurt, hitting Cassandra squarely in the chest so hard that he might as well have physically struck her. "If you truly believe that, Evan, then you do not know me at all. You likely never did." Now, only when the damage was done, did the words begin to flow from her mouth.
"I know you have a history with the man." There was so much pain in his voice that it nearly broke her, but she was in pain as well, and she lashed out, blinded by her own agony.
"Yes, Evan, yes! Once upon a time, I was stupid and foolish and I thought I loved him. Is that what you wish to hear?"
He blanched. "Not really. I don't wish to hear about any man you might have dallied with, even in your youth. The idea of you caring for another man, let alone fucking him, is abhorrent to me!"
Cassandra drew herself up to her full height, her knees still shaking a bit. "Well, it is the truth. I did care for Matthew, or at least I thought I did. But I was wrong. He was a liar and a wastrel and the worst sort of man imaginable. What is also the truth is that whatever I felt for him was only a pale shadow of real love. How do I know this? Because over the last year, I fell in love with you, Evan Haddington! More fool me as well, I know, because you can never truly love anyone. You're not capable of love, though I tried to convince myself that you were. Still, I knew the truth of you, but I also convinced myself it didn't matter."
She wa
s shaking now, but she did not stop, not giving him time to utter a single word in response. "So I lied to myself but eventually, I couldn't even do that any longer. Because I loved you. I loved you so damn much and I was too afraid to tell you because I didn't want to see that look in your eyes. I didn't want to see you turning away from me, reminding me about that damn contract and speaking yet again about your whores! I didn't want to see your pity when I confessed my love and you could not offer me the same in return!"
"Cassie, I..." Evan reached for her but she backed away, just as she had from Matthew. She didn't want to be touched by anyone. Especially not by her husband.
"No, Evan. No. Don't say it. I don't want to hear those words from you because if you truly loved me, you would have trusted me. You would have known that I would never go willingly into that man's bed or any other man's for that matter! If you truly loved me, you should have said so long before this moment."
Fresh waves of pain swept over Evan and he thought he might die where he stood. His heart ached so badly and with each word Cassandra spoke, he felt that pain deeper and sharper than he had before. In that moment, he wanted to hurt her, to make her feel this same pain that he felt. So he did the only thing he knew how to do, the one thing he had a great deal of practice with where this woman was concerned. He lashed out once more, determined to make her hurt as much as he did in this moment.
"Just as you told me you loved me, Cassie?" he sneered. "Just as you told me about our child? The one you lost the day we returned to London?"
She gasped. "How did you...?"
"How did I know?" He let out a bark of humorless laughter. "I am not a stupid man, Cassie. Give me some credit. I figured it out. And I gave you chance after chance to tell me but you never did. So I, too, convinced myself that it did not matter, that you kept your silence for a reason." He shook his head and glanced at the papers still lying on the floor between them. "I was going to tell you tonight that I loved you, that nothing that I said or did before mattered. You were all that mattered to me now. That I wanted to change the terms of our marriage. That I no longer wanted a mistress after our nursery was filled. Just you. Only you. That's what those papers represented to me, my giving of the Gray Ladies to you in exchange for the rest of your life as my real and true wife, not merely one of convenience. So who is the bigger fool, I ask you, fair Cassandra? For at this moment, I do not think it is me."
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