In the Garden of Seduction

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “For heaven sakes, he’s a man,” Lady Camden inserted. “Isn’t he at his country estate? Can’t do it from there.”

  “But he gave me a wonderful party when I went to visit him, didn’t he, Simon—I mean, Lord Sutherfield?” She must have been greatly disturbed to allow that slip of the tongue. “I’ll wait until he returns to the city.” Cassandra turned a tortured gaze on her father. “Papa, please!”

  A moment of silence followed while Mr. James studied his daughter. “I think it’s the thing to do, my dear,” he said at last. “If Lady Eastwick is unable to help, we need to find someone who can. It’s only right that you take your place in society.”

  “I can’t believe you are saying this, Papa. I had hoped you of all people would understand.”

  “I promise, Miss James, you will like my sister. Lydia is superb even for a sister.” Simon smiled, keeping his words calm and persuasive. “Give it a try. Nothing says you must continue with your introduction to society if you find it unpleasant. At least, don’t dismiss the opportunity out of hand.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Cassandra said. As if done with the conversation, she moved to her seat and sat down. “I believe the performance is about to begin.”

  Simon watched the back of her lovely head for a moment before returning his attention to her father. “I’m happy to have met you, sir. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

  This time the expression on Mr. James’ face was friendly, almost warm. “Yes, my lord, I expect that’s true.”

  The marquess took his leave of Quintin James and Lady Camden, whispering his goodbye so as not disturb Cassandra. Her back to him made it clear how she felt, therefore, he decided not to force the issue. Even so, he was willing to wager she knew when he departed.

  He stepped into the darkened corridor, empty now because the opera had begun. He began the trek back to his own box, all the while mentally preparing a plausible explanation for Lydia. Lord help him if she chose not to aid his cause.

  Simon felt like dancing through the passage. He now had something concrete to work with, even if he couldn’t take credit for it. Please, please, Lydia, don’t let me down, he thought.

  Simon was especially happy knowing Cassandra had been jealous of his sister. That explained her frosty reception tonight and proved she was not indifferent. Somewhere along the line it had become very important that she care for him. Love might be for the common folk but it made marriage more enjoyable.

  Marriage—he shook his head, chuckling to himself. Had his thinking really gone that far? He had avoided that trap assiduously, and now he was embracing the idea. Strange what a beautiful redhead could do to a man’s psyche.

  Simon entered his box and slid into the seat next to his sister. “I’m late. Sorry.”

  “Quite all right, dear.” Lydia turned an amused look on her sibling. “I saw you across the way. Your redhead is a beauty. Is that Lady Camden with her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is the man?”

  “Quintin James, Cassandra’s father.”

  “Cassandra? That’s the young lady’s name?” When he nodded, she continued, “I haven’t seen her before.”

  Simon detected the question in her voice. “It’s a very complicated story. Do you want it now or later?”

  “Dear brother, I’m much too interested. If this opera were more compelling perhaps I’d wait. But then again, perhaps not.”

  Simon laughed and proceeded to fill her in on Cassandra’s history.

  Lydia drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Leave it to Moretta Camden to find a way to complicate my life. It’s not entirely true that I like to entertain and you know it, Simon.”

  “I’m aware. That was a white lie, I’m sorry. But it seemed the perfect chance to help Cassandra.”

  “And yourself?”

  “All right, I admit it,” he said in exasperation. “I’ve already told you I want to marry the lady. If you do this for me it will make the situation easier. Cassandra doesn’t know what she wants at the moment. Despite that, I hope to convince her.”

  “You are considered a catch, Simon. Why do you waste your time trying to convince someone who is uncertain?”

  The marquess sent his sister a look filled with longing. “There’s no telling where the heart will decide to love, Lydia. I had no idea this would happen as it has. But I have to try. You see that, don’t you?”

  Lydia placed her hand on her brother’s arm. “I wanted to be certain you were truly serious. You know I will help with whatever you need.”

  Simon brightened immediately. “Thank you,” he said, his chest tightening with gratitude.

  “But first things first,” she cautioned.

  “Anything.”

  “I want to meet your young lady. Do what you must but bring her to me. I can’t accomplish much if we don’t do that.” Lydia returned her attention to the stage, lifting opera glasses to her eyes. “I suppose I ought to watch the end of this abomination in case someone asks me about it.”

  Simon stared at the stage although his thoughts were elsewhere. Often his attention drifted to the box across the theater, but not once did he see Cassandra glancing in his direction.

  Lydia had given him a damnable chore. He hadn’t planned beyond getting his sister’s cooperation and, now that he had it, Simon wondered how he was going to get Cassandra’s cooperation. If the lady’s attitude tonight were any indication, it wasn’t going to be easy. Not easy at all.

  *****

  “I don’t want to see him.” Cassandra flounced to the chair, and plopped on the seat.

  Her father stood in the doorway to her bedchamber, a frown beginning to furrow his features. “We have a gentleman waiting in our drawing room who has asked to see you, Cassandra. Is it really your wish to send a rude reply?”

  “Couch it in any terms you like, Papa.”

  “Cassandra, he is a marquess.”

  That made her angry. “You make it sound as if the title is the man. It makes no difference to me.”

  He hesitated and his eyes took on an assessing light. “Is there something you want to explain to me, something I ought to know? After all, you are acquainted with him, not I.”

  She dropped her gaze to her hands, suddenly unable to meet his probing stare. Was it fair to malign Simon? A few choice words and the young lord downstairs would be out on his ear, regardless of his rank. The perverse thought rankled her. Here was the opportunity she needed, and all at once she didn’t want to use it.

  “I’ll see him,” Cassandra said grudgingly. She stopped to run her fingers through mussed hair, resenting that she felt the need to do so.

  Her father smiled. “I’d have sent him away if you had insisted, but I’m glad I didn’t have to do it.”

  “Humph,” she grumbled, following him from the room and down the stairs.

  At the drawing room door, he spoke in her ear. “Smile. You look very grim, you know.”

  “I feel as grim as I look,” she snapped, “and deception is not my specialty.” Cassandra pushed her way into the room.

  Lord Sutherfield stood facing the window to the garden. He turned when they entered. “Miss James, I’m glad to see you. Lovely as always,” he greeted her with a broad grin.

  “You act as if we did not see each other last night at the opera, my lord.”

  “Cassandra!”

  The shock in Quintin’s voice made her cringe. “I beg your pardon, Lord Sutherfield. I must seem rude if my father disapproves.” As much as she tried to make the apology sound sincere, Cassandra suspected she fell short of her goal.

  Simon’s lids drooped but he did not hide his amusement. “Miss James, please not to worry. I’m impossible to offend.”

  “A bald-faced truth, my lord,” she said, then laughed.

  Immediately, she regretted her loss of composure, for her merriment lifted the constraint in the room, and she didn’t want to become too comfortable. Whenever she relaxed, the marquess took
the upper hand.

  Her father stirred restlessly as though the drift of the conversation confused him. His next words confirmed this. “Is there a jest here I’m not privy to? I sense anger, then humor. Which is it?”

  “Probably a little of both, Mr. James,” the marquess said in a wry voice. “Miss James and I seem to be at cross purposes most of the time. I think it’s because she refuses to like me as much as I want her to.”

  “Excuse me?” Quintin James stared at his guest. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Yes, Mr. James, I am. I would like to court your daughter. You will want to become acquainted with me before you make any definite decisions, but I prefer an honest approach.”

  Cassandra had had enough. “I’ve a mind of my own, Lord Sutherfield. Perhaps I don’t want you to court me.”

  Quintin backed away, his arms stretched out in front of him as though he were warding off the feuding couple. “I can see Lord Sutherfield and you are in need of an earnest discussion, Cassandra. I will leave you both alone but I take my duties as chaperon seriously. I’ll be across the hall.” He eased out of the room, leaving the door open. “Frankly,” he could be heard muttering to himself, “the way those two are going at it, I don’t expect anything to happen unless it’s a brawl.”

  Cassandra glared at the marquess. When she felt certain her father could no longer overhear their conversation, she broke the tense silence.

  “What are you trying to do?”

  “I’m wooing you, sweetheart. Do you like it?”

  “The devil you say,” she countered hotly.

  “Such language from a lady.” He winked at her.

  “It’s my father you’re wooing and you know it. You want him on your side.”

  He grinned. “Is it working do you think?”

  “Of course not. In the end he will listen to me. I didn’t tell him what a scoundrel you are, but now I think I will. If he understood, he wouldn’t leave me alone with you for even a moment.” She liked that threat and she smiled at him smugly.

  “You know, Cassandra, I’m one for interpreting not so much what’s been said but what hasn’t been said.” His eyes took on a hooded look. “Why do you suppose you didn’t inform him in the first place?”

  Excellent question. Cassandra was afraid she knew the answer.

  “Foolish of me, wasn’t it?” was all she could think to say. “Did you have a purpose in calling today, my lord, aside from disturbing my peace?”

  Simon blinked. “Ah...yes, I did. I want you to meet Lydia.”

  “To what purpose, my lord?”

  Her clipped question angered him. “Damn that ‘my lord’ nonsense. I’ve told you I don’t like it.” He clamped his lips then began again. “My sister has agreed to sponsor you for the season.”

  “I’ve already told you—”

  “I know what you’ve told me, but I would deem it a special favor if you would meet with her. I’m going to look foolish otherwise.”

  Why should she care about that? Yet she did.

  He must have sensed the crack in her resolve, for he gave her a crooked grin, remaining silent.

  “When?” she asked dully.

  “Tomorrow, say, four o’clock?”

  “All right, I’ll meet with her, but I make you no promises.”

  “Of course not, my dear. I would be disappointed if you came meekly. One of the things I admire most about you is your fire—matches that remarkable hair. I never am sure what to expect.” His voice turned husky. “In fact, I expect the unexpected.” He cast a quick glance at the partially opened door then leaned forward and dusted her lips with his own.

  His breath was warm against her mouth as he spoke again. “Your father is wrong, you know—it is never safe when I’m alone with you.” He pulled back and strode from the room. “Tomorrow,” he threw over his shoulder.

  *****

  “I look terrible. I don’t like this gown at all, Sophy.” Cassandra tossed the gown on her bed and returned to the wardrobe. “Lord Sutherfield’s sister is the wife of an earl. I’d hate to appear like…”

  “The daughter of a cit?” Sophy put in gently.

  “I didn’t mean that.” Cassandra felt uncomfortable under her friend’s discerning eye. “What I meant to say was I didn’t want to present an unsophisticated appearance.” She pulled another dress from the clothes pole, gave it a critical glance and tossed that one aside as well. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “I’ve never known you to worry about things like that, Cassie. And you weren’t unsophisticated on the day of your birth, so you can put that idea away.”

  “I suppose. And you’re right. Normally, I don’t give it a thought. I simply feel uncomfortable with the situation.”

  “I don’t see why. It’s a very nice thing Lady Eastwick is doing for you.”

  “That’s just it.” Cassandra spun around to look at Sophy. “Why is Lady Eastwick doing this? It’s no small favor, I guarantee.”

  “Perhaps she’s doing it more for her brother than for you.”

  “That makes sense and I agree, but why then does he want her to do it in the first place?”

  “I believe Lord Sutherfield may be serious about you, Cassie. It’s the only explanation. He certainly seemed serious that day in Hyde park.”

  “I hardly think that’s possible.” Instantly dismayed by a rush of hope, she continued, “When he met us in the park he did what he always does—flirt outrageously,”

  “He informed your father that he wanted to call on you. That’s serious, if you ask me.”

  A knock at the door relieved Cassandra of the need to answer.

  “Lord Sutherfield is here.”

  Her father’s voice from the hallway sent her into a flurry of activity. “I’ll be there shortly, Papa,” she called.

  With Sophy’s help she found a lavender frock that pleased her well enough. “Do you want to come down with me?” she asked as her maid completed final touches to her hair.

  “I’ll sneak out after you are gone. But I expect to hear all the details,” Sophy said as Cassandra left the room.

  Cassandra arrived in the hall outside the drawing room and paused long enough to straighten her shoulders. Her stomach was knotted with apprehension. Why? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the marquess, hadn’t spent time with him. But he seemed different. His approach had changed, leaving her feeling uncertain and defensive.

  Simon was watching for her. As she moved through the doorway his gaze lit with appreciation. He walked across the room to her side.

  “I always wonder if you could possibly be as beautiful as I remember, and I’m never disappointed.”

  “Always the ready compliment, my lord,” she said neutrally. “Shall we go?”

  “Yes indeed, Lydia awaits.” If he was aware of her indifferent attitude, he chose to ignore it. His manner was gracious as he escorted her outside.

  “Does Lady Eastwick mind?” she asked the marquess after he helped her into his phaeton.

  “Mind?” He climbed in beside her and took the reins.

  “It’s not right to ask her to help me in such a personal way. She doesn’t even know me.”

  “Hence our meeting this afternoon.” He flicked the reins and the phaeton moved away from the curb and onto the avenue. “Before the day is through Lydia and you will be friends.” He glanced over at her, a smile in his eyes. “You won’t be able to help yourself, you know. Everybody likes Lydia.”

  That prediction proved to be true. Lydia St. John, Countess of Eastwick, aside from being an exceptional beauty, was a lovely person. Cassandra found herself unable to resist the lady’s charms.

  “If you don’t mind my saying, Lady Eastwick, you remind me of your brother,” Cassandra observed as she took a seat opposite her hostess.

  “Which brother is that?” Lady Eastwick laughed. “Simon, of course. Though, I never admit to being like him. Please, call me Lydia. No need for us to be formal with each another.”


  “How many brothers do you two have? Cassandra sent a look of inquiry over to Simon where he lounged against the fireplace. I think you told me once—I’ve forgotten.”

  “I have two brothers.” He grinned. “I believe Lydia has three.”

  “Do you see?” Lydia pouted, “forever the tease. You have no idea what it was like being the elder sister to three incorrigible brothers, for I tell you, Robin and Edward are no better. They took their lessons from Simon who is the oldest of the boys, and he’s a wonderful teacher. I told him he missed his calling. If it hadn’t been for our baby sister Jillian to ease the shock of a household of males, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  The camaraderie between the siblings struck a cord in Cassandra. “I always wanted a brother or sister. It seems as if you had a lively family full of fun.” She didn’t realize how wistful she sounded until Simon and Lydia shared a look. “Of course, my childhood was wonderful,” she hurried to explain. The last thing she wanted was anyone to pity her.

  “I’m certain,” Lydia reassured her kindly. Then to her brother, “You know, Simon, I would like to get to know Cassandra, and I’ve found the presence of a man interferes with the free flow of conversation. Would you mind leaving us for a while?”

  Simon straightened from the mantle, a surprised expression crossing his features. “I thought since you didn’t know each other…”

  “Yes, dear, I understand what you thought. We really don’t need you, though. Cassandra and I are perfectly able to get acquainted without your assistance. It’s impossible to gossip about you if you are in the room.” She turned to her guest. “Don’t you agree?”

  Cassandra felt the mirth rise in her throat. Nodding at her hostess, she allowed her gaze to touch the marquess. Oh, she shouldn’t have looked at him, for his disgruntled appearance made her want to laugh out loud.

  Both ladies watched in amused silence as Simon sauntered reluctantly from the room.

  “Dear me,” Lydia said once he disappeared through the doorway. “You will have to watch that tendency in him.”

  “Pardon me?”