In the Garden of Seduction

by Cynthia Wicklund

  Roger clamped his lips together in distaste. Bowing stiffly, he turned on his heel and marched from the room.

  Just as well, she thought, for if he had not left of his own accord, she’d have delighted in kicking his arrogant backside into the street.

  *****

  While her maid fussed with her hair, Cassandra picked up the invitation on her dressing table and looked at it again. A furrow creased her brow. Why would Lady Eastwick want to see her today at three o’clock? The note said “for a little coze,” but she suspected there was more to Lydia’s summons than she had indicated.

  Grandfather also sent a note earlier in the day saying Roger and he would visit that evening after the dinner hour. She could think of nothing she dreaded more.

  “You look lovely, miss,” the diminutive maid said, fastening the last curl in Cassandra’s hair.

  “Thank you,” she murmured. “Let me know when the carriage arrives.”

  Cassandra rose from her dressing table and crossed to the window. She had barely slept in two days and she was exhausted. Two days since Simon walked out of her life—two days since she ceased to care about anything.

  Over and over she remembered the fateful moment when the earl had announced her marriage to Roger. Simon had stared at her as though she were a traitor, and something within her had shriveled.

  Cassandra feared it was her heart.

  She hadn’t cried, not then, not since—she could be proud of that. But perhaps pain such as this transcended tears. Tears were a form of healing. How could she heal what was forever broken?

  The maid returned, informing Cassandra that the carriage had arrived on the curb. Sighing, she grabbed her reticule and left the room.

  Lady Eastwick met Cassandra at the front entrance of the Eastwick mansion as if she had been impatiently waiting for her guest to arrive.

  “Come in,” she welcomed. “I’m pleased you are here.”

  Cassandra moved into the sitting room behind her hostess. “You sound as if you are surprised I came.”

  Lydia turned to her, a shrewd light in her eyes. “I was concerned that you would feel uncomfortable. I hope I worried needlessly.” She took a seat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.

  “I thought you might be angry with me,” Cassandra admitted, sitting down.

  “Why? Because you, like countless women before you, have given in to the demands of the men in your life?”

  “Just one man, my grandfather.”

  “One or a dozen, doesn’t matter. We women have been pawns since forever. Unless we are worthless we marry for the gain of our menfolk.” Lydia smiled. “Ironic that you will never find a man who protests the order of things until his own personal interests are at stake. Although I’m confused by the unsuitability of Simon’s offer.”

  “Your brother never offered for me.”

  “Never? His intentions were clear, though, weren’t they?”

  Cassandra hesitated before answering. “He told my father he wanted to court me. It did not go further than that.”

  “Still, a very earnest step for Simon to take. You didn’t know him well enough to understand the significance of the gesture, did you?”

  “He never indicated to me that I should attach any special meaning to his interest. He was always attentive, but…” Cassandra shrugged.

  “There you have it.” Lydia waved her hand vigorously in the air. “Young men spend all their time chasing the wrong type of woman with only one goal in mind. They are never serious, but are absolutely appalled when they are not taken seriously. I tried explaining to Simon that he couldn’t pursue a lady in the same aggressive manner he used with his flirts. A proper romance takes finesse.”

  In the back of Cassandra’s mind, a tiny flame of understanding flickered into life. “Perhaps he did listen to you,” she said slowly.

  “Oh?”

  “Recently, he’s been the perfect gentleman. I believed he was losing interest in me.”

  “You couldn’t possibly have thought such a thing. Simon is obsessed with you.”

  Cassandra shivered, unprepared for the euphoria that rushed through her body. “How can you be certain?” she asked in an awestruck whisper.

  Lydia touched her arm. “He told me he loves you, that he wants to marry you.”

  Cassandra looked at her hands, her face burning with mortification. “Maybe he felt that way before, but I think your brother has taken a disgust of me.”

  “If you are referring to the party at Vauxhall…”

  Cassandra’s head popped up and she stared at her hostess in dawning horror.

  “Yes, Simon told me what happened and he was frantic. He knew your feelings were wounded. Feared you might do something foolish, and as it turns out he was right to be worried.” Lydia’s words, while not judgmental, had a slight sting.

  “After what happened it didn’t seem to matter what I did,” Cassandra explained. “And my grandfather has been so persistent.”

  “Can Lord Whittingham force this marriage to Mr. Morley?”

  “My father has relieved my mind on that score. Papa doesn’t want me to marry Roger any more than I do.”

  Lydia nodded. “As long as we can extricate you from this commitment, I’m satisfied.”

  Cassandra looked at the Simon’s sister hopefully. Why was she suddenly filled with optimism as though Lydia could accomplish what no one else had?

  “Now,” the countess continued, “this brings us to why I asked you here today. Do you love my brother?”

  “I thought that was clear,” Cassandra murmured.

  “Not entirely. Frankly, my dear, I think you’ve been using your distrust of Simon’s motives as a shield.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Loving someone is a risky business. There is always the chance of being hurt, but what is there if one doesn’t try? The problem is not your grandfather or Mr. Morley or even my brother.” Lydia leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “You’re going to have to learn to trust your own heart. Perhaps then you’ll be able to trust Simon.”

  “What if he should stop loving me?” Cassandra ventured in a small voice, ashamed of the fear that entered her speech.

  Lydia shook her head. “No one can tell what the future will bring. He loves you now and dearly. He is suffering as I’ve never seen him suffer. Looking at the situation I see no point to the misery. What is there to keep the two of you apart except foolish pride?”

  “Have you seen him?”

  The countess sent her a calculating look. “Simon came to me last night, looking awful. Said he needed to get away for a while. He’s given up and I’m worried sick about him. Men don’t endure heartbreak well.”

  “He’s leaving?” Cassandra asked, panic-stricken.

  “Gone by now, I think.”

  Standing, Cassandra spun to face her hostess. She clutched at the top of her gown with nervous fingers. “Where?”

  Lydia stood as well. “I think his final destination is Sutherfield in Suffolk. That’s our ancestral home, but he has a hunting lodge not far from there. When he is unhappy, that’s where one can usually find him.”

  “If he’s already gone, what am I to do?”

  “I’m glad you asked me that,” the countess said, her manner turning sly. “I haven’t been to Sutherfield in some time, but I hate to travel alone. I don’t suppose you’d like to take a small journey to keep me company? I will be ready to leave by morning.”

  Cassandra had to control the urge to jump up and down while clapping her hands. She settled on throwing her arms around Lydia’s neck.

  “You’re a wonderful person. I hope Simon appreciates you.”

  “I have to be honest with you,” the countess said, disengaging herself. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t believe you are perfect for my brother. But don’t celebrate, yet,” she warned. “You’ve another hurdle to clear.”

  “I do?”

  “Why, of course, dear. My mother is in the dower house a
t Sutherfield and Simon is her favorite child.

  *****

  “I will not allow you to back away from your promise,” Lord Whittingham raged, his face mottled with angry red spots.

  “Neither Roger nor I want this marriage, Grandfather. It is time someone stood up to you and said no.” Cassandra glanced at the two other occupants in Quintin James’ library, hoping for some support, but Roger was suspiciously silent, her father merely watchful.

  The earl looked at his nephew. “Is this how you feel, Roger? You’ve never spoken of it to me.”

  “Well, sir…I, that is to say…the subject never came up.” Roger ran his finger in his collar as though it had suddenly become too tight.

  “What subject?” the earl snapped. “This is a business arrangement. Everyone understands the situation. For the sake of the future we do what we must. Remember, Roger, without your cooperation there will be no money.”

  “Maybe I can be of some help.” Quintin James stepped forward and all eyes turned in his direction. When no one spoke, he continued. “Just seems to me, if the main issue for Morley is money then I can make it worth his while not to push for this marriage.”

  Roger gasped, “You would do that for me?”

  “Now see here—!” the earl bellowed, but for the moment everyone ignored him.

  “For Cassandra,” Quintin said, his warm gaze resting on his daughter. “I would do anything to make her happy. I am convinced that happiness does not lie with Morley.”

  “I won’t let you interfere, James,” her grandfather bit out. “There are sacrifices to be made. Cassandra is my blood, not yours. What I expect isn’t unreasonable.”

  “And what are you going to do, Grandfather?” Cassandra questioned him rudely. “Everyone else is doing the sacrificing, not you. You’ve had your life and, if I understand correctly, you wanted to marry my grandmother.”

  The earl’s light blue eyes narrowed ominously. “I’ve spent nearly twenty-five years looking for you, Cassandra, and you will not disappoint me now.”

  “When does the threat end, sir?” she asked softly.

  He paused. “What do you mean?”

  “When do you no longer hold my father’s life over my head? After the wedding? Perhaps you’ll want to wait until you are certain the marriage has been consummated or, better yet, when the first boy child is born.” The earl started to interrupt, but she forged on. “Don’t you see? Some things are out of your hands. The line died when your son died. All the manipulation in the world cannot change that fact.”

  He looked crushed. Suddenly, her grandfather’s vigorous frame appeared withered and aged. Reaching for the arm of a nearby chair he sat down heavily.

  Her words had cut deeply, and Cassandra realized from where his obsession sprang. All these years he had been denying the truth—the loss of his only son, the loss of a future he could not reclaim.

  She moved across the room, coming to kneel at his side.

  “Grandfather…” When he did not acknowledge her, she touched his sleeve. “Grandfather, please look at me,” she implored. “A tragedy happened twenty-five years ago, and it’s not the fault of anyone in this room. Your son died and his wife made a decision that has impacted every one of us. But that decision doesn’t need to destroy us, too. If you continue this way, you and I will have the same relationship you had with my father, and look what happened. This is our chance to have a new beginning.”

  The earl’s gaze slid to her hand where it rested on his arm before he lifted his eyes to hers. “Can’t you see your way to do this for me, Cassandra?”

  “You make it very difficult to say no, but I think you ask too much. And it’s not only my life that will be ruined if I agree. You feel because Roger benefits from your death he owes you his future. Penelope loses because she loves Roger and wants to be with him.”

  “I had the distinct impression the comfort of your cousins was not a priority with you,” Grandfather said in a dry voice.

  Cassandra’s lips twitched. “I admit it, sir. You’ve found me out.” She was vastly relieved that his spirit seemed intact. “I love Lord Sutherfield with all my heart. I’ve come to believe he cares for me as well.”

  “Bah,” the old man said, seeming to recover some of his strength. “Sutherfield has not spent a serious day in his life. I’d be irresponsible to permit a match with him.”

  “The choice is mine to make, Grandfather,” she said as gently as she could. “I had my doubts at first, but I think we’ve misjudged Simon. Please, won’t you support me in this?”

  “You are determined?”

  “Absolutely,” Cassandra said, for the first time feeling hopeful.

  “Then I won’t stand in your way,” the earl said at last. He stood and grasped Cassandra’s hand, pulling her to her feet. “You are right—I do not want to be estranged from you as I was from your father.”

  Cassandra could not speak. She was no less aware than the earl that a dream had just died. A pall hovered over the room, and even Roger had the grace not to look elated.

  “I leave for Sutherfield with Lady Eastwick in the morning. Do I have your blessing?” she asked her grandfather.

  “I reserve judgment for a later date, but I wish you happy,” he allowed. “You tell that young man I’ll be watching him.”

  Though too soon to say they had forged a bond, it was a beginning, a tentative step that encouraged optimism. Her grandfather would never be an affectionate man but in his way she believed he would try.

  Cassandra, joined by her father, saw the earl and Roger to the entry.

  “Thank you, cousin,” Roger said, his expression meaningful before he turned and followed his uncle down the walk.

  Quintin closed the door and addressed his daughter. “That young man sounded almost humble.”

  “Papa, am I doing the right thing?” she questioned, oddly uncertain now that her way was finally clear.

  “Won’t know until you try. Go on, love, you’ve a journey to prepare for.” He paused and ran his hand over her soft red curls. “And so you know, Cassandra, you’ve always had my blessing.”

  *****

  CHAPTER 15

  The coach pulled into the clearing, and Lydia pointed from the window of the vehicle, indicating the rustic structure with the low roof nestled in a stand of trees.

  “It’s not much to look at, but it’s comfortable on the inside,” she said.

  “This is Simon’s hunting lodge?” Cassandra asked. “Do you think he’s in residence?” Now that they were here she was nervous at visiting the marquess unexpectedly.

  “Earlier today I had my coachman deliver a note to Simon telling him I arrived in the neighborhood last night,” Lydia said. “I mentioned that I might stop in before I continued on to Sutherfield. The servant returned with a note from my brother. Simon is not only in residence, he’s wallowing in self-pity. He wrote back that if I wished to see half a man this was my opportunity.” She eyed Cassandra. “I did not mention that you were with me.”

  “I’m afraid he won’t be happy to see me. I had all night on a lumpy straw mattress in that awful inn to think about it. Perhaps you should wait until I find out if he wants me to stay. Then at least I have transportation when he makes me leave.”

  “Where is all that confidence you were exuding when we left London?” the countess chided her. “Of course, he wants to see you. He’s mad about you, dear.”

  “This is a bold move on my part,” Cassandra said doubtfully.

  Lydia touched her companion’s wrist with a gloved hand. “Yes it is and, frankly, I’m not in the habit of assisting in secret assignations. But Simon and you need some time alone to talk.” She shook her head again. “Regrettably, it’s your move to make. My poor, lost brother believes the game to be over.”

  “I’m so nervous.”

  “You’ll do fine. Now,” Lydia said, her manner turning brisk, “you have until dusk. I will come back at that time, and then you and I will go on to Sutherfield.
If all goes according to plan Simon will be following wildly on our heels.”

  “What will you do all day?” Cassandra queried.

  “Don’t worry about me. I intend to return to the inn and work on my correspondence. My friends despair of me I’m such an inconsistent writer, and I’m badly behind at the moment. I expect that chore to take most of the afternoon.”

  Cassandra opened the door and jumped to the ground with the aid of the driver. The man climbed back onto the bench, and she stood in the middle of the small yard and watched the vehicle roll from the clearing. Dust billowed around the wheels of the coach, and as the distance increased between Lydia and herself, so did her uncertainty.

  “Miss James, is that you?”

  Cassandra whipped around at the sound of the youthful voice. “Timothy! I wasn’t expecting you. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m with his lordship. I’m taking care of ‘im.” He beamed at her as though caring for his master ranked up there with most wonderful things. The lad’s beautiful, freckled face had filled out from good food and he looked much sturdier.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she said, smiling. “What have you in your hand?”

  “This? It’s a fishin’ pole. The pole I was using broke, so ‘is lordship sent me to get this one.”

  Here’s an opportunity, she thought, her mind working furiously. “Timothy, what say you give me the pole so I can surprise Lord Sutherfield? He’s not expecting me and it might be fun.”

  “I dunno, miss.” The boy backed away from her. “He’s waitin’ for me to return.”

  “I know, but it would be the biggest of favors. You see,” her tone turned confidential, “Lord Sutherfield and I had a small disagreement and I would like to repair our friendship.”

  “Does that mean you’ll marry him?”

  “What?” Did she detect an accusation in his question?

  “Got into the whiskey last night. Said somethin’ about losing ‘is love, though he didn’t talk so good by that time. But I knew he meant you.”