In the Garden of Seduction

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “I’m aware of that. My visit is for you.”

  “I see,” the earl said in a bland voice. “How can I be of service?”

  “I’m returning to the city myself.” Simon hesitated, unsure of how to begin. No better way than just to say it, he reasoned hopefully. “Sir, I would like your permission to pay my addresses to your granddaughter.”

  An infuriated glower replaced the neutral expression on Lord Whittingham’s face. “I forbid it,” he snapped, sitting forward in his chair.

  “I don’t understand. A marriage between Cassandra and me would be highly suitable. I have rank and a considerable fortune.”

  “You are a rogue, sir. I want more for Cassandra than that.”

  The marquess flushed, now also angry. “Those are strong words. Do you have proof to support your allegation?”

  “Your reputation precedes you.”

  The contempt in the earl’s attitude humiliated Simon, but there was more at stake here than his pride. With great effort he restrained his temper.

  “I love Cassandra and I believe she cares for me.”

  “How long do you expect that to last? A man who has the habit of flitting among women soon tires of a wife. And if my granddaughter truly cares for you, I will have spared her that crushing blow. I have her life planned and I’ll fight if you interfere.”

  “A marriage to Morley? You’re using protection of her feelings as a justification for furthering your ambitions. Even I know she can hardly stand the man.”

  “This is not for you to decide, Sutherfield.”

  “You are using her like a brood mare. What difference does it make if your great-grandson inherits the earldom or not? Regardless, Morley’s branch of the family succeeds to the title. All you’ve done is hand Cassandra over to them. There is a chance she will not have a son. What then?”

  Lord Whittingham’s eyes sparked furiously, his complexion growing mottled. “You dare challenge my judgment?”

  “No, sir, I do not. I simply don’t understand your obsession. My title came to a recent ancestor of mine much the way your title will go to Roger. There is a sadness when that happens, naturally, but one must go on.”

  “Youth.” The single word exposed the earl’s disdain. “You have no understanding of constancy, what it means to observe life in a continuous line with no break, each generation knowing what to expect. Like all young people you live for the moment. Can’t you see this is more important than individual aspirations?”

  The earl did understand. He had grown to adulthood with the same values, the same goals. Perhaps his distress over Cassandra seemed more important to him because it was so personally his own problem.

  Simon came to his feet.

  “Whittingham, I thank you for seeing me,” he said, tilting his head at his host. “I must tell you as one gentleman to another, I’m not going to end it here. No doubt my motives seem selfish to you, and I do appreciate your position. I don’t come by my decision lightly. However, after I reach London, I will approach Quintin James when I feel the time is right.”

  The earl stood also but did not offer his hand. “You do this over my opposition, Sutherfield,” he said in a grim voice. “I am not without influence, and so I’ve told Cassandra.”

  What did that mean? Had Lord Whittingham threatened his granddaughter? The marquess chose not to address the issue, instead tossing in a challenge of his own.

  “I am not without influence, either, sir—nor am I afraid to use it.”

  Let the old man chew on that for a while.

  It’s a stalemate, Simon thought dully.

  They exchanged a tense stare, an unspoken moment with neither gentleman willing to back away from his position. There was little hope the earl would alter an attitude fostered from birth.

  Simon bowed. He respected Whittingham despite the differences he had with him. Because there was nothing left to say, the marquess departed. He still had a long ride ahead of him.

  *****

  “Papa! Oh, Papa…” Cassandra cried, her voice breaking as she flung her arms around her father’s neck. “I’ve missed you!”

  “There, there, child, I’ve missed you, also.” Quintin James put his daughter from him, his eyes suspiciously red. “When I received your letter last week I thought I must be dreaming.”

  “I can’t believe I’m here.” She twirled on her toes where she stood in the entry, her gaze taking in every detail of her beloved home. “There’s much to be said for appreciating what one has. What a pity I had to go away to understand that.” She linked arms with him and drew him into the parlor.

  “Are you all right, love?” he asked, patting the slim hand that rested on his forearm. “I didn’t think he would let you come.”

  Cassandra sent him a reassuring smile. “I didn’t give Grandfather much choice. I told him I was coming with or without his consent. He and I agreed it would be easier if we worked together.”

  She avoided her father’s probing stare, the questions lurking in his warm, caring eyes. Instead, she sat on the sofa. “Come, sit with me,” she said. “Tell me how you’ve been. Have you lost weight? You look thinner.”

  “Do I?” he asked, joining her. He rubbed his hand over his still generous middle. “There’s not much reason to linger over a table of one.”

  “Papa, I’m sorry.”

  “Now, now, I’m not wallowing in self-pity. It isn’t as though you were going to live with me forever. I have managed well enough.” He paused for a moment but did not look directly at her. “Lately, I’ve made some new friends.”

  Cassandra could not decide what in his tone caught her attention or why she suddenly was filled with misgiving. She sensed a change in her father and it frightened her. What was it? Rather than risk a painful answer, she refused to ask.

  “How nice,” she managed over a tongue gone numb. “I think I would like to go to my room and rest for a while. Do you mind? I feel drained.”

  “Of course not, my dear. This is an emotional time for us both. We’ll visit when you’ve had a chance to recover.”

  Cassandra entered her bedchamber several minutes later, and for the first time she felt at home. She plopped down on an ottoman, absorbing the familiar surroundings—her bed, the drapes, the carpet. Everything was just as she had left it. So why had the atmosphere been strange downstairs? And most frightening of all, why had Papa seemed different?

  Was it true one could never go home again?—at least, not to the same home? Had everything changed so that she and her father could no longer relate to each other as they had in the past? Perhaps he had already begun to release his hold on her, had accepted that she did not belong to him. The thought made her throat ache.

  Since the moment she had left London, she had thought of little else but returning here. Every day had been a struggle, with a grandfather who wished to dictate her life and a cousin whose only concern was for his own future.

  Then there was Lord Sutherfield.

  The marquess had insinuated himself into her life like a tiny splinter works its way into tender flesh. The wound was raw, the pain profound. Yet she missed him. How could she pine for someone who caused her such distress?

  What did it matter? She would probably never see Simon again. In time she would forget him. Must forget him. Cassandra hoped she was right, for she found it unbearable that the injury to her heart might be a permanent condition.

  *****

  “Cassie, I’m so happy,” Sophy said as the footman helped her from the carriage. “It seems forever since you and I took a walk in Hyde Park.”

  Cassandra joined her on the ground. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” She turned to the driver. “One hour,” she said. She linked arms with her friend, and they started down the path with the footman following at a discreet distance.

  “I come with Lily Tisdale on occasion,” Sophy continued, “but she’s ugly as a mud post, poor thing, and it’s not nearly as much fun. You’re very beautiful and all the gentlemen s
tare, which makes me feel as though I’m sharing in the attention.”

  Cassandra smiled and she squeezed her companion’s arm affectionately. “Sophy, how I’ve longed to see you.”

  Sophy’s plain face flushed a bright pink. “You know it’s the truth, even if you’re too modest to admit it. Now that you know you’re the granddaughter of an earl, you may socialize with all those gentlemen who have ogled you in the past.”

  “To be honest with you, I don’t think I want to socialize with an ogler. If I wasn’t good enough then, well…” She shrugged. “I am perfectly happy with the people I’ve known all my life.”

  “But, Cassie, things are different now. You can’t go back. You have expectations.”

  “So I’ve been told repeatedly.” Cassandra could feel her irritation surfacing. “What should I do, refuse to acknowledge all my old friends? Should I stop associating with you because I am the granddaughter of an earl? I refuse to accept that everything is different.”

  Cassandra hated showing her impatient side, but since her arrival home three days earlier, Sophy’s opinion had been the attitude of everyone. Worst of all, her father seemed to accept that her life would be changed forever. She felt caught between two worlds, belonging to neither.

  “Forgive me, Cassie.” Sophy came to a stop and stared at her companion through large hazel eyes, round with hurt. “I thought you were pleased with your new prosperity.”

  “I should ask your forgiveness, Sophy. I’ve wanted to see you so much, and once I do I start an argument. My behavior is insufferable.”

  “Are you unhappy?” Sophy asked.

  “I don’t know.” That was a lie. “I wanted everything to be the same as if I’d not been away at all. I suppose it was silly of me.”

  A shadow fell across Cassandra and Sophy, startling both young ladies. Sophy covered her mouth and squealed in fright.

  A horse and rider blocked the path, and for a moment the only thing in Cassandra’s line of vision was a highly polished Hessian-clad foot. A long, lean leg extended beyond the boot, muscles in the hard thigh bunching as the limb gripped the animal.

  Even before she saw the man’s face she knew. Her lungs contracted painfully.

  “Miss James, did you think to escape me?” His speech was quiet, almost sinister.

  She heard Sophy gasp beside her, but Cassandra could not tear her gaze from the compelling figure in front of her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Lord Sutherfield.” She spoke in a feathery voice, trying to find her breath.

  “That’s odd. I had the impression you did not intend to say good-bye. Why is that, do you suppose?”

  “I did tell you good-bye, my lord.”

  “Is that what that was?”

  “I thought I was very clear,” she defended herself.

  The marquess raised black eyes and looked over her head. At the same time Cassandra heard someone approaching on the path. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted her servant trotting toward them, wearing a concerned expression.

  “It’s all right, Farley. This is Lord Sutherfield. He…ah, that is to say, he is an acquaintance of mine.”

  A stiff silence followed while the footman took stock of the situation. Farley nodded. “If you need me, miss,” he said, sending a look of misgiving in the direction of the marquess. He backed away to a discreet distance but stayed in sight.

  Lord Sutherfield dismounted. He held his horse by the reins and moved closer to the ladies. His attention shifted to Sophy.

  “I don’t believe I’ve been introduced to your lovely companion, Miss James.” He gazed at Sophy in that way he had that made a woman’s heart quiver with excitement.

  Sophy was struck dumb. Her eyes had taken on a glazed look, and her mouth hung open in a most unattractive way.

  “This is Miss Willis. You’ve met her.” Cassandra spoke sharply but her rudeness stemmed from uneasiness. Sophy’s response to the marquess was not reassuring, for it underscored her own vulnerability regarding the man.

  Lord Sutherfield seemed unaware of Cassandra’s ruffled feelings. She knew he was not. He smiled at Miss Willis, took her hand in his and placed a slow kiss on her knuckles. “I remember,” he said, raising a warm gaze to hers.

  “Oh…” Sophy did not appear capable of managing more response than that.

  The marquess continued to smile in a persuasive manner at his newest conquest, all the while holding her hand. “Do you think, Miss Willis, it would be all right if I had a few words in private with Miss James? Nothing improper, you understand.”

  “Yes, yes, I see no harm.” Sophy fluttered her lashes and beamed at him inanely.

  Cassandra wanted to strangle her. Why, Sophy looks as though something is caught in her eye, she thought. Couldn’t she see how the marquess was manipulating her?

  “Perhaps another day, Lord Sutherfield,” Cassandra stated, rigid with disapproval.

  “Miss James, come. You’re not going to treat an old friend like that, are you? Just a moment of your time—even Miss Willis approves, don’t you, Miss Willis?”

  He sent Sophy another meaningful look and her friend visibly melted.

  “Only a moment, my lord.” Sophy giggled. “I shall be on that bench taking a little sun. Don’t be long.”

  Cassandra felt as if Sophy had handed her over to the care of a scoundrel. Her temper rose precariously but it was too late. The marquess had already taken her arm.

  “Stay with Miss Willis,” she tossed at the footman as the marquess pulled her down the shaded path.

  “Why are you following me?” she spat as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “I told you we were not finished, Cassandra. I meant it.”

  He looked down at her from the edge of his eyes, and against her will a shiver of excitement coursed through her belly.

  “I don’t see how you can think that. It’s not just for you to decide.”

  “Of course not, love.” There was laughter in his voice. “You agree with me wholeheartedly.”

  “I do not. How can you say that?”

  “Because that is how I feel, and I won’t accept that you don’t feel the same. I warn you, I’m used to having my way.”

  Simon came to an abrupt stop, surprising not only Cassandra but his horse. The animal snorted his disapproval.

  They had reached a bend in the path and could no longer see Sophy where she rested on the bench.

  “Lord Sutherfield,” Cassandra began.

  “Call me Simon. I insist.”

  “All right…Simon,” she bit out. Frustrated, she paused to collect her thoughts. “This has to end. It is one thing to carry on a flirtation in the country, but we are in the city again.”

  He grabbed her elbow, pulling her close. “A flirtation? Is that what it meant to you?”

  “What else was it?” Something primitive thrummed in her blood when he touched her, and she was seized by panic. If his very nearness sent her emotions spinning out of control, how could she send him away?

  “There is a moment in a rose garden that haunts my dreams,” Simon whispered in a thick voice, “a sweet torture that makes sleep almost impossible. I’m disappointed if you weren’t touched as I was.”

  Cassandra was unable to lie. “I never said I was untouched,” she said, though she had trouble looking at him.

  Something gleamed in his eye when she glanced back at him, something triumphant.

  “Then all will be well,” he promised huskily. “I admit I’ve been worried, but now I won’t let anything stand in my way—for both our sakes.” His gaze grew smoky as he tenderly placed his hand to her cheek. He lowered his mouth to hers.

  Until that moment she would have denied how much she wanted him to kiss her. She had missed Simon. Cassandra found herself leaning into him and, as his arms came around her, absorbing the warmth and excitement of his embrace.

  She trailed her hand up to his neck and tangled her fingers in the hair at his collar, holding on to him. A low growl slipp
ed from his throat.

  He deepened the kiss.

  A movement on the trail caused them to draw apart guiltily. Simon stood in front of Cassandra, wedging her between himself and his horse to protect her from the curious stares of two couples who came into view. The small group walked passed them without speaking, but she heard the eruption of sudden whispers as they moved out of sight.

  “I knew it, Lord Sutherfield,” Cassandra whispered furiously. “You will ruin me before you are through. I must be the most stupid woman alive.”

  “You promised to call me Simon.”

  His smile was so innocent she wanted to throttle him. “This is ludicrous. I’m not willing to start that with you again.”

  She pulled away with the intention of leaving him where he stood, but he grabbed hold of her wrist. His eyes narrowed ominously.

  “Understand one thing, Cassandra, I am deadly serious. If I seem lighthearted it is only because I don’t want to frighten you.” He took her arm. “We’ll return to your friend as though nothing is wrong. Your indifference will keep Miss Willis in the dark. After all,” he said, leering suggestively at her, “anger is a strong emotion that means one cares. So yell at me. Make me a happy man.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth and then snapped her jaws shut. She would not give him the satisfaction of thinking she cared. Silently, they retraced the path to where Sophy waited, the marquess towing his horse.

  “Miss Willis,” Simon called, “we have returned. We weren’t long, were we?”

  Sophy jumped from her seat on the bench and trotted toward them. “Not at all, my lord,” she gushed. “You’re such a gentleman. You did just as you said you would.”

  The marquess raised a brow at her. “Was there some doubt?”

  Cassandra’s friend blushed a bright pink. “N-no, of course not,” she stammered, but finished in perfect honesty, “though I am glad to see you both.”