There are also rumors that Lady Pearl Weston might have found a suitor as well. You might remember that she, along with Lady Miri Bexley, was tossed out of Mrs. Witherson's School for Proper Young Society Ladies after less than a month at that esteemed institution for "unbecoming behavior." Well, if rumors about her beau are true, I can certainly see why the esteemed Mrs. Witherson felt she could not tame this wild, American-born chit.
-Lady A
She was late. Her courses were late. By several days and not just one or two. Unlike last month, this time, there was no question in her mind. In fact, there was no questioning anything, leading Cassandra to firmly suspect that she was with child. Pregnant. With Evan's child. Possibly his heir.
Some might scoff at her knowledge, but Cassandra knew her body well. If nothing else, her Aunt Ellie had taught Cassandra that understanding the workings of her own body gave her power - over her life and the men in it. While Cassandra had never used that knowledge to those ends, she had thought it wise to understand why certain changes in her body occurred when they did. Therefore, she had known for years that her monthly courses arrived on roughly the same day every month, give or take one in each direction. But never by an entire week with a few extra days added for good measure. Not even the previous month. That meant something was different inside of her. Something she could not see. And the only possible difference was that she was now carrying Evan's child.
A few days ago, Cassandra would have been overjoyed at the probability, but now? Now she was just hollow and empty inside.
Evan's words in Lady Knightly's music room had been lies. Words meant to do nothing more than sway her emotions and convince her that he loved her. This was a game to him, just as it had been from the first night in his study. This was not love, but a power struggle. And she had lost.
He didn't want her. He didn't care for her. He didn't trust her. He never had. All of his pretty words and kind actions had been nothing more than an enormous lie. Instead, he wanted his whores. Cassandra was just a business deal to Evan. It was all she had ever been. If he had truly cared for her, he would have been here by now. She had been gone from London nearly five days. Plenty of time for him to have followed her - if he loved her enough to chase after her, that is. But he didn't love her. He never had.
Cassandra had known that, of course. Evan hadn't lied to her and had made his wishes and desires perfectly clear from the first. Still, she believed things had changed between them. She had felt that change deep in her soul. She assumed Evan had as well.
How could she have been so wrong?
Because she was in love with her husband. That was why.
Completely, stupidly, foolishly in love with a man who could never return her affections.
Cassandra had come to that conclusion over the last few days as she had worked side by side with Mrs. Smith, Brambly Fields' ever-efficient housekeeper who had been extremely confused several days ago when her new mistress had returned to the country so abruptly - and without her husband.
The woman was even more confused when Cassandra had announced that they would be cleaning the little-used portions of the manor house, something that had not been done in ages. After all, Brambly Fields was a massive house and even when hosting parties, less than half of the house was ever used. With close to three hundred rooms, it simply wasn't necessary.
Cassandra, however, refused to be swayed from her task and had worked furiously beside Mrs. Smith and a small army of maids, cleaning and dusting and in general airing out rooms that had not seen light in five years or more.
She didn't speak much when she worked, save for issuing orders. She knew that puzzled the staff as well, for on her previous visit, she had departed as the gregarious, happy, and confident new mistress of all that was Berkshire. Now she had returned alone, quiet and given to woolgathering at the drop of a hat.
However, Cassandra's mind was occupied with more important things - namely where her marriage had gone so very horribly wrong and how she might go back and undo the damage. Or if she even could.
Thus far, she had come up with no way for her to repair her relationship with her husband. Had she remained in London it might have been possible. Now? Well, her running away had made things a great deal more difficult.
Today had been even worse as the rain once more pounded down, turning the driveway to thick mud once again and making the washing of laundry impossible - at least if one wished for it to dry properly. If the deluge continued, Cassandra had decided she would likely order lines to be strung in what had once been a dungeon since Brambly Fields had been built upon the ruins of an old castle that had burned down centuries ago. It might not be the done thing, but at least the linens would be dry. And it would give her something useful to do.
The weather had also soured her disposition further. There was a part of her that still held out hope that Evan would come for her, that he would chase her across England - because he loved her. However, with each day that passed, such an event was becoming more and more a fantasy. It was time to accept that he did not love her and begin to make plans to return to London so that she might beget him an heir and they could move on with their separate lives.
It was not what she desired but what she knew had to be done.
However that was for tomorrow because at the moment, Cassandra could not think of anything more than the ache in her heart and the growing discomfort in her body as the babe took hold. Well, it was either a babe or she was dying a rather slow and painful death. She sincerely hoped that her aches and pains were the result of a child for she had no wish to die at the moment. Even though that might solve a great deal of her problems she did not wish to confront. Not now and not ever.
Even her usual evening bath the night before had not helped to improve her mood. At the end of each day, Cassandra was usually covered in grime from head to foot and her body always ached, though some of that was likely from lack of food since she was already having trouble keeping anything in her stomach for very long. Though that could also be from nerves as well. She hated when things were unsettled. At present, her life was most certainly unsettled. Perhaps even more so than when her father had passed.
So each evening after cleaning was finished for the day, Cassandra ordered the copper tub brought into her chambers and hot water prepared for her bath. She had read something about an expectant mother's cleanliness being good for a child, so she made certain to bathe every night. If she was truly increasing as she suspected she was, well, Cassandra did not wish to lose this child as she had the first. If a nightly bath helped her condition, then it was a small thing, really.
Tonight as she stepped into the bath, a storm had begun to rage outside that was very similar to the one that had blown through London the night of Lady Knightly's ball. The wind howled and lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the earth shake. The storm also had not abated while she soaked, instead rising and falling in intensity as if it was a living thing. Even now, she could still hear the splatter of drenching rain against the windows.
Cassandra was never more glad that she was safe inside the walls of Brambly as she was at that moment. For here, snug within her comfortable chambers, the storm could not touch her. Instead, she could bask in the glow of the soft candlelight and pretend that all was right in her world. She could relax - or try to anyway - and pray that sleep would claim her tonight in a way that it had not since the day she had arrived.
She could also begin planning her return to London. Eventually. Maybe. Perhaps not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
As the water began to grow cold, Cassandra knew that it was time to remove herself from the water and dry off. She had pulled the cord to summon a maid nearly a quarter hour ago, but no one had appeared to assist her. Sadly, that was not unusual these days, for her arrival at Brambly had the normally efficient house all in a dither about one thing or another.
Leveraging herself out of the tub, Cassandra plucked a towel from a stack on a near
by table and began to dry herself. As she did so, she padded across the room to examine her naked body in the full-length mirror that had belonged to her Aunt Ellie. The lovely piece was an extravagance to be sure, and even now, Cassandra had no idea why the woman had even owned such a thing but now, she was glad of it.
In the soft light, Cassandra turned this way and that, examining her body and seeking signs that she was increasing. Her breasts were a bit swollen perhaps, and Lord knew, they were extremely sensitive. Simply putting on a corset this morning had been sheer torture. As for her nipples? Everything made them hurt, even the softest of silks, another sign she might truly be with child.
Sliding a hand across her still mostly-flat stomach, Cassandra thought she might see the first beginnings of a slight swelling, indicating that a babe grew within her. Or not. It could also be that she was gaining weight, though how she could not imagine how or why, for she kept down very little of what she ate these days.
She turned to her side and was so intent upon examining her reflection that she hadn't noticed the very male - and extremely naked - figure that had come up behind her. It was only when she felt the brush of a hard cock against her backside that she looked up, her eyes flying to the mirror, only to see Evan's gray-green gaze staring back at her.
"Evan!" Cassandra gasped as she spun around. "What are you doing here?"
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze raking over her naked body with a look that could only be described as an aching sort of hunger. There was heat in his eyes as well, a swelling of passion that could not be ignored. She could see the depth of his need for her as his eyes flashed fire in the shadowy darkness. Then again, the problem between them had never been in the marital bed.
"I came to find my wife," he finally said, reaching out not to cup her bare breast as she would have assumed but to stroke the back of his hand along her jaw. "I came to beg her forgiveness and bring her home with me. Where she belongs."
Cassandra raised her hands in silent entreaty. "No. Please, Evan. No. Do not do this to me, I beg of you."
"Do what?" he asked softly, continuing to caress her and for some reason, weak thing that she was, Cassandra could not find the strength within herself to pull away. If anything, she leaned more fully into his caresses. "Ask you to come home? Beg your forgiveness?" He paused. "Or tell you that I love you and that I am completely and utterly miserable without you?"
She closed her eyes, shutting out the vision of the man before her. Perhaps if she could not see him, she would somehow find her strength again. "You do not mean that, Evan. I know you don't."
"But I do." Even with her eyes closed, she could tell he had moved closer, for she could feel the heat of his body washing over her. "I love you, Cassandra, and I want you back. I need you. I am so sorry I did not trust you. So very, very sorry. More than you will ever know."
Slowly, Cassandra opened her eyes, for she thought if she saw him, looked him in the eyes, she would be able to see the lie there, know for certain that he was simply playing another game. She didn't. Instead, she saw only sincerity. And pain. A wealth of pain.
She had put that pain there, or at least some of it. She hadn't told him about their child as she should have done. That, at least, was entirely her fault.
"I am sorry as well, Evan." She licked her lips and tentatively reached out, hesitating just a bit before she placed a hand on his bare chest. Immediately she could feel the warmth of him, his heat seeping into her bones and creeping into the darkest, most frigid corners of her soul. Places that had not been warm since the night of the ball. "I should have told you about the child. But I did not know how."
"And I did not make it easy for you, did I?" He took a step closer so that his chest brushed her taut nipples and she let out a hiss, sparks of desire shooting through her, her skin so very sensitive to his lightest touch. "I made certain you knew this was business between us and nothing more. You felt as if you could not trust me with the truth, for a child was the only thing I had asked of you to fulfill our contract."
Cassandra did her best to ignore the fire of unchecked desire that had begun to ignite deep within her. "I was pregnant. I lost the babe the day we returned to London. It was my fault. I did something...wrong. I caused this." The words were wrenched from her, dampening her desire.
For so long she had carried this guilt. She had been responsible for the loss of this child. She and she alone was at fault. If she had done something differently, then perhaps...well, perhaps none of this would have ever happened.
"The loss was not your fault, Cassie! I never thought that it was." Evan's voice was rough. "It was an act of God. Do you seriously believe that I would blame you for what happened? Even I am not that cruel. Or that stupid. It was not your fault. It simply happened." Cassandra could see the anger and passion in his eyes and she knew he was telling the truth. After so long, she could both read and trust the emotions she saw in the depths of his gaze far better than she trusted his words or his actions at times. Evan might lie, but his eyes did not.
"And you are not...angry with me?" She hated that her voice shook.
"God, no!" Evan covered her hand with his and she could not have fled even if she had wanted to. "I was heartbroken, certainly, but I did not blame you. Not in the least! I even convinced myself that you didn't need to tell me the truth, that it didn't matter. Except that, I love you. So it did matter. It mattered very much."
She swallowed hard. "And when you saw me with Matthew?"
Evan clenched his jaw tightly but his touch was still gentle. "I allowed my anger over the babe to cloud my judgment. I was so angry with you for not telling me the truth that it was easier for me to believe that you had told me another lie where that man was concerned. That you did care for him. That you loved him and did not love me. And that possibility? The possibility that another man had your love when I did not? That made me angrier than you could possibly know."
"Why?" She had to know the truth. All of it.
"Because I was jealous, my lovely, beautiful, willful Cassie. I wanted it to be me that you loved. I wanted to be the man you gave your heart to, the man that you desired above all others. But you could not trust me with the most devastating secret of your life, so how could I ever hope to imagine that you would trust me with something as precious and fragile as your love? I could not." He paused. "So I reacted. Badly."
Tears coursed down Cassandra's face. "I wanted to tell you, but as I said, I was afraid that you would blame me. After how we began, can you blame me?"
Evan shook his head. "Sadly, no. That was not well done of me. It never was and I should have apologized to you long before that day in your chambers last fall when you were so deathly ill. You deserved better from me. You also deserved to know that I love you. I have for some time now. Only once more, I withheld myself and my words. You deserve better, Cassie, especially from me. You always have."
Now it was Cassandra that reached up to caress Evan's jaw. "I wanted to be the woman you loved, the woman you would spend the rest of your days with, but you only spoke of your whores. How you could not wait to return to their beds. And I? Well, you had already said that this was business between us. How could I even hope that you would come to love me, even though your love was what I desired more than anything?"
"We have not been honest with each other, have we, my queen? My Cassandra." Evan pulled her closer and she could feel the press of his desire against her stomach. Her body, already overly sensitive to any small touch, blazed to life with a consuming, passionate fire, the likes of which she had never known.
"No, we have not," she agreed softly. "However I wish to change that. For I do love you, Evan. I think I have from that first day I barged into your study and dubbed you a dragon. You infuriated me and yet you captivated me at the same time. You made me feel, but more than that? You saw me. You looked at me and saw Cassandra and not some pawn in a game. How could I not fall in love with you?"
Gently, Evan cupped her face in h
is hands. "And you my lovely queen? You challenged me and fought me. You refused to give in and let me have my way when every other woman I have known has simply given me whatever I demanded. There was no challenge in them, but with you? Oh, with you there was depth and a passion I could not ignore. You make me a better man, Cassie. I love you. I loved you a year ago and I love you even more now. I was simply too blind to see it."
Then he kissed her and suddenly, all of Cassandra's world came back into focus, sharper than before and bursting with color and heat and light. Her heart sang and her mind became clear once more. She loved Evan. He loved her. Beyond that? Nothing else mattered.
"I love you, my dragon," she breathed when he broke the kiss. "And I always will."
Cassandra wasn't certain who moved first, whether she reached for Evan or he for her, but in the end, it didn't matter. All she knew was that as he kissed her deeply, pressing his body into hers, she felt lighter than she had in longer than she could remember. Such a little thing as an admission of love had somehow set her free from chains she hadn't even realized had been binding her. For she had spoken the truth earlier.
For so long, she had felt like nothing more than a pawn in a game where she did not know the rules - first in Matthew's and then in the previous Berkshire's and then later in her Aunt Ellie's. All of them had wanted something from her, not caring what she wanted or desired. Except that Evan did. He cared, though he might not have been particularly good at expressing the sentiment. Still, he had cared. He had looked at her and seen the woman, not the pawn, and he had given her the freedom to expand her wings and be free of the gilded cage she had been placed in so long ago.
With Evan, she could be who she was. She was Cassandra. Cassie. Queen.
She was a wife and a lover. She was a friend and a companion. Soon, if all went well, she would be a mother. And all of that, all of that choice and freedom, was because of Evan. Because he loved her and believed in her. Just as she loved and believed in him.
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