“You see, my dove,” the bedridden man addressed her, “’tis simple enough to speak your mind here with me. Now, tell me…what thought you of Mason when first you saw him? What did you think of his appearance? His manner? His purpose?”
“I-I thought his purpose was to evaluate my health. I thought surely I was ill, for Mother and Father had been looking at me so strangely during the days just before he came,” she answered honestly.
LaMont Carlisle erupted into a roar of laughter, and Devonna and Cylia laughed full of mirth at her comment. Even Mason seemed amused by her reasoning, though he little more than grinned. When LaMont was able to restrain his laughter, he then inquired, “And what of his manner?’
“I thought him angry and unfeeling. Pompous and prideful,” she stated plainly.
LaMont raised his eyebrows and looked to his son. “I can see how you would come by pompous and prideful, but angry and unfeeling?” Then he added, “And his appearance? Did his appearance please you, my little dove?”
Cassidy swallowed with difficulty, for she felt that each in the room awaited her answer with great anticipation. “I would be a liar were I to tell you that his appearance is not…preferable.”
“In fact…” the great man urged.
“In fact, he is the most attractive of men to look upon. And I see now, upon looking at you, where he inherits.”
Again LaMont Carlisle laughed uproariously. Even Mason’s grin broadened as he said to his father in a lowered voice, “She has you by the tail now, I’ve no doubt, Father.”
“Indeed! Indeed!” LaMont chuckled. “But she had me in her palm before she spoke a word.” Cassidy smiled as the man nodded his head understandingly at her. “Now, leave us. I must speak with the young woman alone for a moment.”
“But, Father, the east properties are—” Mason began.
“A moment of pleasure before business, if you please, Mason,” LaMont interrupted him. “Will you come to me at once, Cylia, when I have spoken with your daughter of daughters?”
“Of course, LaMont,” Cassidy’s mother answered. Then she and Devonna linked arms once again and left the room in a flurry of excited chatter.
“I’ll speak with you in turn, Mason. Leave me with your prize, my boy.”
“Very well, Father,” Mason agreed. Looking to Cassidy, he said, “Don’t believe him when he lists to you my hidden charms. I have none. As well you know.” Then he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“He’s such sour powder at times, that one,” LaMont said to Cassidy. She felt greatly relieved that she would not be asked to speak in front of Mason again, at least for the time being. “He unsettles you, doesn’t he?” the man asked unexpectedly.
“Yes, sir,” Cassidy answered. She would be nothing but honest with him, for she knew no reason to be otherwise.
“Good,” he chuckled. “He’s taken with you. From the moment he saw you, no doubt.”
Now Cassidy laughed. “Sir, you are of a wit that is ever refreshing.”
“I speak the truth. Were you not in his favor, he would not battle to keep you from him so determinedly.” Cassidy’s amused smile faded. “No one knows him as I do, my dove,” he continued. “At least, no one as yet.”
“Why did you condemn him to me, sir?” Cassidy blurted out. “I know it seems that I’ve not the right to ask this of you…but I must know. Why?”
The man’s brow was furrowed instantly with a great and deep frown. “You place your question oddly. You ask why Mason is condemned to you? Why do you not ask of your being condemned to him?”
“I just spoke the question. There’s no reason to my wording,” she answered, quite uncertain herself as to the manner of it.
“I can say this to you, my dove,” he began, his tone serious and honest. “Neither of you is condemned. In fact, both are blessed. Though it may be hard for you to fathom at present…you will come to know that this union will be the greatest gift given you in life.” He reached out and cupped her smooth cheek with his large, roughened hand. “I already love you as my own, Cassidy. Believe on that, for it is truth. Come to me for whatever comfort you need. I say come to me, for I know that to tell you to seek comfort in Mason is beyond your understanding at present. So I will say, for now, come to me. I will ease your mind and encourage you in the absence of your own father.”
Cassidy accepted his answer. Though it was not what she had desired to know, it was all that would be given, and she was satisfied, for it was no less than she knew already.
“Now, go to your chamber and find rest there. You must be fatigued from your journey. Leave me to speak with the others. But you must promise to visit me daily. Promise?”
“I do,” she said, smiling. How could anyone, especially a woman, refuse this man? It could not be done. There was something all too captivating about him. About him, as about his son.
Cassidy left Carlisle’s room to find her mother and Mason’s waiting close by in the grand hallway. Mason was unseen, however. “He begs your company, Mother,” Cassidy informed Cylia.
“Very well,” her mother acknowledged, smiling as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.
“You’re astonished, no doubt, at our easy manner, my darling,” Devonna said unexpectedly.
“Yes, to be honest,” Cassidy admitted.
Devonna smiled understandingly. “Unmarried people just don’t normally speak in such privacy, yes?” Cassidy nodded, smiling a bit guiltily. “We’re friends, Cassidy. Your mother and I. Your father and I. Your father and LaMont. Your mother and LaMont. It has been such since some time before your birth.”
“Apparently so,” Cassidy giggled. Somehow a great sort of initial relief was washing over her. Perhaps she didn’t know the reasons why she had been brought to Carlisle Manor or why she had been chosen for one so powerfully formed as Mason Carlisle. But there was friendship here, a happy spirit of sincerity. She was not resented here, and she was humbled at the thought of how badly Mason had been received at her own home. They had treated him terribly, all of them. All of them except her mother. Her mother had made effort to embrace his being there. Why? she wondered again. Why hadn’t Cassidy been told? Would it not have served to make Mason’s sudden appearance more amiable?
“Come,” Devonna said, linking her arm with Cassidy’s. “Let us to your chamber. You’re weary. I am certain of it.”
Chapter Five
“Miss? Miss?” The unfamiliar voice seeped into Cassidy’s tired mind. Slowly she forced her eyes open. “Miss?” Turning from her side to her back, she saw a pleasantly featured young woman leaning curiously over her. “Are you awake then, miss?” the girl asked.
“Yes. Forgive me. I must’ve been far more tired than I realized,” Cassidy said, pulling herself to a sitting position on the bed. In waking she remembered at once that Mason’s mother had shown her to the chamber that would be her own. It was beautifully decorated in golds, browns, and ivories, every detail perfectly dusted and polished and the scent of vanilla as strong as ever. Devonna had begged her to rest. Having laid down on the bed intending to rest for only a moment, Cassidy had fallen into a deep slumber, awaking to find a young maid, approximately her own age, smiling down at her.
“I’m Katie, miss,” the girl announced proudly. “I’m to be your personal maid.”
“Oh my, no!” Cassidy argued. “I have no need of assistance to that extent!”
“I’m proud to be called so, miss. You’ll be needing help as the time of the engagement ball nears. And I’m oh-so-good a listener, miss, in case you’ve a bit of homesickness now and then. And I can dress your hair better than any French maid alive! So you need not doubt my worthiness to you, miss.”
“Oh, I don’t! It is just that…I feel so silly having help in dressing and daily things. I see no purpose in such attendance. Personally, I feel that if one cannot even dress one’s self, then laziness and ignorance must follow.” Cassidy rose from the bed and went to the nearby washbasi
n to cool her face.
“I find that quite interesting, miss. For you know, of course, that Mr. Mason does not hold to singular servants. It’s why he refuses to have a valet of his own,” the girl prattled on.
“Really?” Cassidy mumbled as she studied her reflection in the looking glass. It was true. She hadn’t noticed it, but Mason had come to Terrill alone save for the driver of the carriage that had brought her to Carlisle. Indeed, he had no manservant.
“Now, it’s less than thirty minutes until dinner, miss. Do you need any help? Or shall I leave you to your own means?” the girl inquired dutifully.
Cassidy turned to look at the girl. No doubt they were very close in age, and the girl was lovely. She had the brownest of eyes and the blackest of hair with dark eyelashes fluttering attractively when she smiled and blinked. “I will do well on my own, thank you, Katie. But could you return when I retire this evening and show me where my things have been placed?”
The girl’s face fairly beamed with pleasure, and with a quick curtsy, she agreed, “Yes, miss. Gladly!” Then, turning to leave, she added, “Dinner is served sharply at seven, miss.”
“Thank you,” Cassidy called after her.
Cassidy found herself primping far too much and finding far too much fault with her appearance. She had chosen a soft copper-colored gown with little lace and a plain curved neckline at her throat. It looked rather drab for a dinner dress for her first meal with the Carlisles, but for some reason Cassidy felt insecure about wearing a more dazzling and lower cut dress. She had the feeling of wanting to blend in with the furniture, of somehow avoiding being noticed. Irritatedly she rubbed at the small brown mole that ever lurked at her upper lip near the corner of her mouth. How she loathed the spot. It was the one thing in her appearance about which she felt self-conscious every minute of the day. Oh, how she longed to have Ellis appear at her doorway, catching her in the act of primping—to have him utter some sarcasm about finding her thus and then offer his arm to her. How she longed to have him tease and irritate her as they descended the stairs to sit at dinner together in Terrill.
Cassidy startled as there came at that moment a knock on her chamber door. Assuming it was her mother coming for her, she called, “Come in.”
The door opened slowly, and Cassidy felt the pink drain from her face as Mason himself stepped through the doorway and into her chamber.
“Are you ready then?” he inquired of her. His eyes quickly studied the length of her, but she could discern no hint of approval or the opposite in his expression.
“Yes,” she answered awkwardly.
Without smiling, he offered her his arm. Cassidy’s heart beat so fiercely that she was sure he could hear it pounding within her chest. Though her mind told her hand to take his arm, her body would not obey and gave great pause.
“Fear not, Miss Shea. My character is not contagious,” Mason told her, reaching out and taking her trembling gloved hand himself and placing it at his arm.
Cassidy restrained herself from bursting into tears. She scolded herself silently for letting her female emotions be so utterly undone as of late. Even through her glove, she could feel the strength and warmth of his forearm beneath her palm. Then, as they walked together down the hall toward the staircase that would lead them down to the dining hall, there came the familiar sound of four rapidly approaching paws. Barreling at them suddenly from around a corner was Mathias, his large, pink tongue hanging happily from his mouth, his attention full on Cassidy. Cassidy stopped short, preparing for his massive body to collide with her own as it had when she called him to her earlier in the evening.
“Sweep your hand down and across your skirts and call his name firmly,” Mason instructed rapidly.
“Mathias,” Cassidy obeyed, sweeping her palm across the folds of her dress as Mason had commanded. Immediately the dog ceased in his aggression and sat his hindquarters firmly on the floor before Mason, panting as happily as ever.
“Now you must reward him for obeying you,” Mason told her.
“With what?” Cassidy asked, for she obviously had no morsel of food or anything else to offer him.
“With your touch, girl,” Mason answered rather impatiently. “And remove your gloves, for he will otherwise take it as a sign of rejection.” Dutifully Cassidy removed both of her gloves, laying them on the floor as she reached down to pat the dog gently on the head. “He’s a man, Miss Shea! Please treat him as such. Don’t coddle him as if he were an infant.”
Cassidy startled at the sound of Mason’s voice but did as he instructed—for she had some great inner desire to win the dog’s affections for her own. Boldly she took the dog’s face in her hands, scratching roughly beneath his jowls. Then she moved her fingers nimbly to repeat the motion at the back of his ears. Almost instantly the dog’s left foot began to pound the floor delightedly, his tail beating the floor mercilessly.
Cassidy could not withhold her enraptured smile at pleasing the dog. “He has a friendly and happy demeanor,” she thought to herself out loud.
“They say a dog will closely resemble his master, do they not?” At Mason’s words, Cassidy stood and looked at him disbelieving. “Do you mean to convey that my own demeanor does not parallel that of Mathias?” His expression was that of entire severity, but his words and tone sounded almost playful. She wasn’t certain of his intent.
“I meant only to say that, upon first appearance, he seems so…almost dangerous,” she explained, “but his demeanor is that of a loving puppy.”
“Yes,” Mason said, again extending his arm to her. “So I resemble him,” he continued as she retrieved her gloves from the floor and took his arm. “At least in the first condition. Is that so?”
“In the first condition, yes,” Cassidy told him.
They spoke no more as they walked to the dining hall, Mathias at their heels. “Mathias, stay,” Mason commanded as he led Cassidy inward to their meal.
Upon entering the splendorous hall, it was apparent to Cassidy that she and Mason were the last to arrive to dinner. In fact, there were others present besides her mother and Mason’s, whom she had expected. There was an older man perhaps her father’s age, a woman perhaps her mother’s age, a young man apparently of an age not far older than Ellis or Mason, an astoundingly beautiful young woman who appeared to be somewhat older than Cassidy, a younger girl that Cassidy judged to be in early adolescence, and a boy of perhaps age eight or nine. The strangers resembled each other in some manner, the younger girl in attendance looking much like the older woman and the young man not unlike the more matured man. It was apparent that this was a family seated at the table with Cassidy’s and Mason’s mothers.
“You look radiant, darling!” Devonna exclaimed, rushing to Cassidy and pressing one lovely cheek against hers.
“Thank you,” Cassidy managed to sputter a moment before Mason spoke.
“Lady Ashmore. Lord Ashmore. It was good of you to come.” The elder man and woman nodded toward him in response and spoke their greetings. “Corbel, Denay,” Mason nodded at the young man and youngest girl. Cassidy was then astounded as Mason reached out and tousled the young boy’s hair saying, “Martin, my good man.” Then crouching to meet the boy face-to-face and lowering his languid voice, he added, “How fares the good ship Intrepid?”
“Well, sir,” Martin answered, a smile of delighted pride capturing his expression.
“Excellent,” Mason chuckled as he rose to his full height once again and turned his attention to the remaining member of the Ashmore family. Cassidy was captivated by the dazzling sparkle that leapt to the beautiful young woman’s eyes as she approached Mason, who, taking her hand and kissing the back of it formally, said, “Gabrielle.”
A large knotted feeling began to contort the inward parts of Cassidy’s stomach as Mason uttered the name. This then was Gabrielle. Mason’s lover! The woman of whom he had spoken to his horse the day she overheard him, the day he drove Gavin from her life.
In fact, a somehow
pain-stricken “Oh!” squeaked from Cassidy’s throat, causing every eye in the room to turn on her. Placing a hand at her throat momentarily, she said, “I…forgive me. I’m just overwhelmed. So many new faces all in one day.” Mason’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked to her. The eyes of the beauty before him cut sharply into Cassidy’s soul, though it was a perfect smile that she wore on her face.
“Of course you would be overwhelmed, such a long journey and dinner guests all in one day.” Cassidy did not miss the sarcasm in the young woman’s voice as she addressed her. It was as thick as syrup. “I am Gabrielle Ashmore,” she said, offering her hand.
“Cassidy Shea,” Cassidy forced out, placing her own hand in the woman’s for a moment.
Gabrielle was a unique beauty. Her eyes were the brightest blue Cassidy had ever seen, her hair perfectly fair and golden in its tints. She was taller than Cassidy, slender, and her carriage was that of great confidence and grace. Her gown was the softest of pinks with white laces, and Cassidy at once felt dry and dim in her copper. Quickly Cassidy glanced to Mason, who tipped his head and frowned at her slightly as if trying to discern the reason that she appeared so unsettled.
“Daniel Ashmore, my dear,” Gabrielle’s father offered, taking Cassidy’s hand and raising it to his lips. “This is my wife, Vesta.” The pure resentment in Vesta Ashmore’s eyes was all too apparent and sent a sinking feeling through Cassidy’s body, giving her cause to have to concentrate fully for a moment on merely maintaining her posture.
Cassidy worked silently to prevent her body from trembling as the obviously vexed woman approached her slowly. Standing just before her, the woman studied her from head to toe with long, calculating looks. “She…she’s…lovely, Mason.” The woman stumbled over the words as if they left a foul flavor in her mouth.
“Thank you, milady,” Mason responded. He took Cassidy’s left hand in his own left and placed his right at her waist in directing her toward the table. It was as if he knew she would be unable to take the steps to do so on her own and needed extra strength. “I am sorry to make you wait for your dinner, only Mathias delayed us just now in the hallway.”
Shackles of Honor Page 9