In the Garden of Seduction

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “Simon is controlling, you know. Although, he’s not so different from most men. They all want to rule the lives of their women. Lord Eastwick is much the same but I don’t let him win those battles. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing my independence.” Lydia’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Although, sometimes I allow him to think he’s winning.”

  “Lord Sutherfield and I don’t really have that kind of relationship,” Cassandra rushed to say.

  Lydia studied her for several seconds as though trying to take Cassandra’s measure. When she spoke her words were slow and deliberate.

  “You’re not comfortable with all of this, are you?”

  “Not really. Lord Sutherfield and I…that is to say…I’m supposed to marry my cousin Roger Morley,” she finally blurted.

  “Do tell,” Lydia murmured, settling back in her chair. “My brother knows this?”

  “Yes. Yes, he does.”

  “Has Simon offered for you?”

  Cassandra felt her cheeks flare. She wanted to end this line of questioning, but deep in the interview she saw little hope of evading the issues being raised.

  “Lord Sutherfield told my father he would like to call on me, nothing more.”

  Lydia continued to watch her through appraising eyes. “Strange he would do that under the circumstances. Simon is a man unto himself, but rarely does he buck propriety. Do you suppose he’s not convinced that you are committed to Mr. Morley?”

  Cassandra was forced to clarify her own position. “It’s my fault. I’ve let my attitude show. I’m the one who doesn’t accept a union with Roger. My cousin and I are not compatible, you see. I realize that’s not important by society’s standards and my grandfather would say I sounded common for mentioning it. But that’s how I feel.”

  “Common or not there are many who feel as you do. My relationship with my husband is based upon affection, and I would have it no other way.” Lydia chewed on her lip briefly before continuing. “I know you think I’m intruding where I have no right, but I’m trying to understand. After all, if I’m to sponsor you it will be hard to avoid everything personal. And Simon’s involvement does concern me.”

  “I tried to tell your brother this is too much to ask. I’m a stranger. You don’t know me.”

  “I’ve thought about that, not just from my perspective but from yours. However, there will be a lot of excitement surrounding you and I’ll be in the middle of it. That appeals to me. There is nothing society loves more than a new arrival in its midst.”

  “I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Can’t I slip into society without too much notice?”

  Lydia gave an unladylike snort. “A beauty such as yourself? I hardly think so. Simon will have to beat away the gentlemen with a stick.” She smiled. “Actually, I rather like the imagery. Might restrain that conceit of his.”

  Cassandra smiled in return but decided to forego any further explanations. Clearly, Lydia had determined that Roger did not pose a threat to her brother’s ambition. But she could have told the lady what the marquess really desired. And it had little to do with a proposal that culminated in a wedding ceremony.

  Much to Cassandra’s relief the two ladies chatted over tea after that, relegating the conversation to trivial matters until Simon poked his head inside the door.

  “May I come in, or am I still persona non grata?” he asked. “I think it’s time I took our guest away.”

  That ended the small party, and Cassandra took her leave of her hostess.

  The marquess drove her home in the twilight. The warmth of the day had dissipated and a soft breeze had taken its place. Unaccountably, she felt at ease as Simon tooled the carriage through the thinning traffic. They sat shoulder to shoulder, but the charged atmosphere that usually bothered her when she was with him was curiously absent. How nice to simply enjoy his company. She glanced up at him.

  “You were right,” she broke the silence.

  “Oh?”

  “Lydia is a marvelous person, very amicable. I liked her immediately.”

  “I’m glad. She liked you, too. I could tell.” He took his gaze from the road for a moment, looking over at her. “Are you ready to let her sponsor you then?”

  Cassandra waved her hand impatiently. “I don’t know. It is a situation prime for gossip. My grandfather ought to be doing the honors. He will want to do it, will feel it’s his duty. I have no excuse not to go through him. I’m afraid he’ll be angry with me if I don’t.”

  “You left Lord Whittingham in the country, and I had the impression you wanted to be away from him for awhile. Are you certain you wish to bring him to the city just now? Your life will not be your own. Do you think he will bring Morley and, God forbid, Penelope?”

  Gracious, she hadn’t thought of that! “You’re correct, I’m afraid. If I involve my grandfather, he’ll use the opportunity to announce my engagement to Roger. Perhaps it would be best if we forget this idea at least for now. I have the rest of my life to meet society.”

  She sensed his impatience before he spoke.

  “Is that what you really want?

  “I’m as sociable as the next person, Simon, but I don’t like to be on display. All this fuss is making me uncomfortable.”

  “How about a compromise then?”

  “I’m listening,” she said cautiously.

  “Lydia can take you about, introduce you to people but without any pomp. You can be someone with whom she’s made friends. Your history can be revealed as you see fit. Even your grandfather can’t object to that.”

  “No special parties in my honor?”

  “If you’d rather not,” he agreed.

  “Provided that you mean what you say, I’ll try. But I can end it anytime?”

  “Anytime.”

  I must be the greatest fool alive, Cassandra thought a short while later as Lord Sutherfield escorted her to the front door of the James’ residence. She offered him a prim goodbye, and for once he graciously accepted her dismissal without objecting. Shutting the door, she leaned against it then closed her eyes and sighed.

  Her involvement with the marquess continued to deepen despite her resistance. It was a lot like being caught in quicksand, she decided, because the harder she struggled the more surely she was caught.

  *****

  CHAPTER 13

  “Did she agree?”

  “Well, Lydia, let me put it this way—she did and she didn’t.” Simon cast his lean body into his sister’s fragile Chippendale chair, causing the piece of furniture to creak alarmingly. “We can squire her around but we’re not to make a fuss.”

  “But I wanted to introduce her, give her a small party,” Lydia protested from her seat on the settee.

  “Most of all she doesn’t want that.”

  “What is she afraid of, do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” the marquess said grumpily. He sat slumped in the chair, chin in hand. “I wish I understood her. One minute I feel confident I can bring her around and the next I’m convinced it will never happen.”

  “I believe I can help you there.” Lydia toyed with the stem of her wine glass. “Not all her thoughts, of course, but enough to give you an idea.”

  “I’ve known her these many weeks, and in one short interview you can tell me what I’ve been unable to see for myself?”

  “Perhaps you’re too close to see what is right in front of your face.”

  “Enlighten me, sister dear.”

  “Even though Miss James is a confident young woman, she’s uncomfortable dealing with the aristocracy. Frankly, I detect resentment on her part that all of this has been thrust upon her.”

  “Time and enough exposure to her peers will ease that resentment.”

  “I agree with you.” Lydia paused and took a sip of her champagne, rolling it on her tongue. “That is not the difficulty, not where you are concerned.”

  “What do you mean?” He sat forward in his chair, frowning.

  “Miss James is attracted t
o you. I can see it in her eyes. On the other hand, she doesn’t want to be.”

  Simon relaxed and he grinned. “Oh well, if that’s all it is, I can change her mind.”

  “You are making a mistake if you take that attitude, Simon. I suspect you’ve been heavy-handed in your approach, and you’re losing rather than gaining ground. You cannot force the issue simply because that is how you want it to be. Lord Whittingham has been doing that very thing, and Cassandra ran away from him. If you don’t want her to regard you as she does him, I think you had best change your methods.”

  “What do you suggest?” he asked, beginning to feel morose again.

  “Take your time. Don’t push her. Right now the most important issue is trust. She doesn’t feel confident you mean what you say.”

  “But I do,” he protested.

  “I know that because I know you, dear. However, I don’t believe Miss James understands who you really are. She sees a handsome nobleman who overwhelms her with his lovemaking, and instead of being flattered she’s frightened.”

  “Do you really think so?” Simon found the idea that he was frightening Cassandra appalling.

  “Miss James is a serious person. Not used to frivolous attachments, I’d wager. She’s protecting her heart. If you’re not careful you might find her marrying Mr. Morley just to escape you.”

  The marquess jumped to his feet. Until that moment he had not appreciated how much he had to lose. He began to pace the room.

  “Simon…?”

  He spun around to face his sister. “She’s told me repeatedly she doesn’t want to marry Roger, but she never says definitively she will not do it.”

  Lydia raised her brows at him and shrugged her shoulders delicately. “And…?”

  “I thought the earl held something over her, that she might feel she had no choice.”

  “A possibility, of course, but unless she’s willing to confide in you there’s no way of telling.”

  “I’ll ask her,” he said.

  “Simon, don’t put her in the position of having to lie. Just be her friend for now. Without her faith in you there is no hope. Deal with Lord Whittingham and his demands when you are certain that is what she desires. You’re cooking the goose before the bird’s been plucked, in my opinion.”

  “Do you think it’s too late?”

  “Absolutely not,” she asserted. “And just to make sure you understand where my thoughts are,” she raised her glass to him, “I believe Cassandra James will make you an exemplary wife.”

  Her declaration reassured him and his humor returned. “All this you discovered in one brief meeting? I’m impressed,” he quipped. “Either Cassandra is an open book or you are a soothsayer. Which do you think it is?”

  “I’d be a fool to tell you, love. Let’s say, women have ways of communicating with one another that men do not understand.” Pulling slim legs up on the settee, Lydia tucked her feet beneath her. “How about a brandy to calm that edginess? You’re as restless as a caged animal.”

  “Can’t. Harry Stiles arrived in town today. I didn’t expect him for a week but he sent a note. Said the quiet made him daft so he came early. I agreed to meet him at White’s this evening.”

  “You’ll let me know when we are to begin our campaign with Miss James?”

  Simon swooped down on her, giving her a quick hug. “Immediately is not soon enough, Lydia.” He straightened, giving her an affectionate smile. “Lord, what would I do if I didn’t have you to help me? I always fancied myself a hand with the ladies. Harry won’t even recognize me tonight, my ego is so battered.”

  Lydia laughed aloud. “Go confidently, brother dear,” she told his retreating back. “You’re not a broken man, yet. You still have that handsome face to lead your way.”

  *****

  Cassandra shifted on the sofa again, nervously picking at her skirts. Being dressed early was a mistake. Waiting for her escort to arrive made her look too eager. The marquess should wait for her. That’s how a fashionable lady conducted herself. She guessed she didn’t have the “fashionable lady” role perfected quite yet.

  She was, however, looking forward to the evening ahead. Tonight’s party would be an intimate gathering at Vauxhall Gardens. Sophy had a special invitation from Lord Sutherfield and Cassandra was in complete charity with him. Her father had departed to pick up Moretta and Sophy fifteen minutes before. Since Simon wanted to escort Cassandra, she had stayed behind to wait for him.

  Her introduction to the polite world had begun ten days earlier, but the fuss was kept to a minimum—no special parties, no announcements. Sophy had not been part of the proceedings because, as Lady St. John had explained, “She won’t be accepted. It would be unkind to expose Miss Willis to the snobbery.” Guilt made Cassandra wince inwardly, but generous Sophy was thrilled by her friend’s success.

  She heard the carriage arrive but remained where she sat while the butler answered the door. She recognized Lord Sutherfield’s deep voice before the servant ushered him into the drawing room. She rose to her feet and extended her hand as he entered.

  “Miss James,” he said, taking her cool fingers, “I’m anticipating a fine evening.”

  “Thank you, my lord, for including Sophy. You can’t know how much this means to her.” She looked at him shyly. “And to me.”

  “What is important to you is important to me.” The sincerity in his words rang true. “Come, Lydia is waiting in the carriage.”

  Cassandra greeted Lydia as Lord Sutherfield helped her into the vehicle moments later. “Your brother tells me it was your idea to visit Vauxhall Gardens and to include Sophy. She’s spoken of little else for days.”

  “She should feel comfortable in our little group—you and your father, Simon and me. Lady Camden, naturally, and Lord Eastwick if he’s able—who else?”

  “Harry, my dear,” the marquess piped in. “Can’t forget good ol’ Harry, can we?”

  “Mr. Stiles has come back to the city?” Pleased, Cassandra asked, “When did he return?”

  “More than a week, I think,” Lydia said, looking at her brother, a question in her eye.

  Lord Sutherfield nodded.

  “Did he bring Timothy with him?” Cassandra asked.

  “Yes,” he said, “and young Tim is doing quite well. I’m going to send him to my estate in Suffolk. I have a head groom there with a gentle but disciplined hand who will turn the lad into a first-rate tiger. There’s a problem, though.”

  “What is that?” This time Lydia posed the question.

  “The little bugger wants me to hire all his sisters and brothers, and there’s thirteen of them, for God’s sake.”

  Cassandra snickered, putting her hand to her mouth to hide her amusement. “That is a problem,” she said, composing her features. “I think aiding one Bailey at a time is generous enough, my lord. You’ve been more than fair.”

  Simon grunted his agreement.

  Tell me,” Cassandra asked, “why haven’t we seen Mr. Stiles?”

  “Harry doesn’t go out much—to the clubs sometimes. He’s not fond of being alone but he doesn’t enjoy a commotion, either. I had to twist his arm to come this evening, but I told him Lydia would have my hide if I didn’t bring another male. After several threats he graciously said he would be delighted.”

  That sent the occupants of the carriage into peals of mirth, setting a merry mood for the remainder of the ride. Cassandra realized that she liked the brother and sister. She felt part of them. If only she could feel as relaxed with Simon when she was alone with him.

  He’d been different lately, not as aggressive. In fact, he had been a perfect gentleman and that had caused her to wonder. Was his interest waning?

  Everyone was at the appointed place when the trio arrived except for Mr. Stiles and Lord Eastwick. After greeting her father and Lady Camden, Cassandra approached Sophy, took her arm and whispered in her ear.

  “I’m glad you came. Without you I could not enjoy myself.”

&nb
sp; “I’ve told you not to worry,” Sophy said, also in a lowered voice. “I know you’ve not forsaken me.” Giggling behind her fan, she added, “Now having said that, I’m desperately, madly excited to be here—and with a real marquess in our party.” She slanted an admiring glance at Simon then returned her gaze to Cassandra. “You are very fortunate.”

  Cassandra opened her mouth to contradict her, but suddenly it seemed absurd. Lord Sutherfield did look marvelous, dressed all in black, even his vest. His shirt had no ruffles and his coat, severely cut, emphasized broad shoulders and a trim, muscular physique. With his elegant appearance and dignified manners, she could not help imagining what it would be like if he occupied a more permanent place in her life. She also could not help the rush of fear that washed over her.

  Lord Eastwick, tall and graying, walked up at that time. Lydia gave a cry of delight. “Albert, you came. I had my doubts you could pull it off.” As she took her husband’s arm, she turned to the gathering. “Albert is with the foreign office and he had an important meeting this afternoon.”

  Eastwick’s blue eyes crinkled at the corners, emphasizing humor lines. “I made it clear to my superiors that my wife had an evening planned, and I’d better not disappoint her.”

  Lydia laughed and slapped at his wrist. “You did not.” She sobered then, glancing around. “I wonder where Mr. Stiles is. I think we ought to find a table. I suppose he’ll have to look for us when he arrives.”

  The night was lovely, balmy, with a clear moonlit sky adding to the mood. Lord Sutherfield played the host, seating Cassandra next to him. The importance of that gesture was lost on no one.

  Harry Stiles appeared as the waiter uncorked the first bottle of champagne. “Please forgive me,” he said. “I spent the day reading and lost track of the clock.”

  “Not to worry, Harry—just in time,” the marquess greeted him. “Come, meet our guests.”

  The introductions were made and Mr. Stiles pulled up a chair, sitting next to Sophy as Lady Eastwick directed him.

  Cassandra could not remember a time when she had enjoyed herself more. Everything seemed perfect—the weather, the food, the company. She didn’t want the evening to end.