Cassandra removed the eye cloth and sat up. “I’m sure I’ll be all right.”
Lydia pulled the chair near the bed and sat down. “You know I don’t pry, but I suspect this has something to do with Sam’s visit. I hope you’re willing to tell me what’s wrong?”
Cassandra dreaded sharing her humiliating story, but Lydia had been so kind to her and the others. “It’s a long story, Lydia.”
She began with when her family lost their home. Lydia remained quiet until Cassandra had finished her painful tale.
“My dear Cassandra, I’m sorry you’ve had to endure all those problems only to end up with trouble here. What do you intend to do?”
“What choice do I have? I’ll serve as Bart Tucker’s hostess tomorrow night. That will give me an insight into what being married to him would be like. Perhaps I could marry him after all.”
Lydia paused, as if choosing her words carefully. “You are not without choices. Promise me that when you’re at Bart’s home tomorrow, you won’t simply look at the surroundings. Look at the man and how he interacts with you and others.”
“I promise.” She dabbed at her eyes and then faced her hostess. “Lydia, are you telling me you don’t approve of the banker?”
“Oh, no, dear. He’s wealthy by local standards, has a fine home, and can be charming. But, what’s right for one woman is wrong for another. Whoever you marry should be the best choice specifically for you.” She rose and patted Cassandra’s hand. “Do consider what I’ve said. For now I’ll leave you to eat then rest.”
After she’d eaten, Cassandra sat in the chair and picked up her sewing. She knew what she’d wear tomorrow, but she’d wait until morning to press the dress. For now, she had plans and decisions whirling in her head.
Chapter Ten
Cassandra thought Angeline’s face glowed that evening as she came into the room. Angeline spread her arms wide. “Grady McIntyre and I are being wed Sunday afternoon.
Cassandra hugged her friend. “How wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”
They went to the parlor so Angeline could share her good news. The other women offered their congratulations and good wishes as they each took a turn hugging Angeline.
Ophelia asked. “Can he perform his own ceremony?”
“I don’t know, but Judge Hunter is officiating. He’s retired, but he’s still licensed and everything.”
Peering at her lapel watch, Cassandra checked the time. “I’d like to visit more, but I must get ready for my evening at Bart Tucker’s home.”
Angeline hurried after her. “I’ll help you.”
Cassandra laid out her clothes. After washing she donned fresh unmentionables. Her roommate helped lace her into her corset.
“Will you help me with my hair?”
Angeline gestured to the chair. “Of course, but I’m not as good with styling as you are. Sit down and I’ll see what I can do.”
After twenty minutes, Angeline laid the comb aside and stepped back. “There, your hair is perfect. Time to step into your dress.”
Cassandra spread the skirt of her burgundy faille dress and stepped into the opening. When she’d fastened the waist, she donned the matching top trimmed with velvet of the same color. After examining herself in the mirror, she was surprised at how low the front dipped. She wished she had lace to trim the daring front neckline.
Cassandra tugged the bodice upward. “The back is nice and high but this front is lower than I remembered.”
Angeline stood back and appeared to assess her. “But quite fashionable. You look lovely. The banker will probably fall all over himself when he sees you.”
“You arranged my hair expertly. This is the most becoming dress I’ve worn since we’ve been in Tarnation.” She touched the garnet necklace at her throat. Arabella had thrown it and the matching earrings on the floor as if they were so much paste.
Angeline tapped her jaw with a finger. “Hmm, that burgundy is flattering. Personally, I like the blue one better because it brings out the blue of your eyes.”
She picked up her lapel watch from the dresser. “Time to go downstairs and wait for Bart’s carriage. I hope things go well this evening—for Bart’s business meeting and for me.”
She gathered a black lace shawl and her purse. When she reached the parlor, those present rushed to her.
Prudence said, “Turn around so we can see everything.”
Rachel said, “That necklace looks as if it’s worth a fortune.”
Cassandra smiled and touched the stones at her throat. “I’m glad they appear real, but they’re not.” At least, she didn’t think they were. Surely even spoiled Arabella wouldn’t be that foolish.
The doorbell sent Angeline hurrying to the front. She returned to announce, “Princess, your carriage is here.”
The other girls followed her to the door.
An older man in dungarees and shirt stood there. His hair was gray and he held a cap in his hand. “I’m Harmon, Ma’am, and Mr. Tucker sent me to fetch you to his house.” He offered his arm.
“Thank you, Mr. Harmon.” She let him guide her down the steps toward the street.
“Just Harmon, Ma’am. No Mr. about me.” He helped her climb into the back seat then he set the cap on his head. That done, he clambered onto the front bench, released the brake, and snapped the reins.
She assessed the carriage’s fine upholstery. How lovely to ride in this instead of walking everywhere. This conveyance made her feel a genuine lady.
As they drove through town, she saw Sam on the street. She watched as she passed by him. Wanting to pretend she didn’t see him, she couldn’t keep from turning her head to meet his cold stare.
His face held a disapproving expression. Well, let him think what he would. She didn’t have to defend her actions to him. After his unjust accusations, he had no right to question anything she did.
Soon they turned into the drive at Bart’s home. This time she examined the exterior more closely. The large two-story home would be a lovely place to live and entertain.
Two white pillars stood at each side of the entry and supported an overhang covered by the second floor balcony. White railing wrapped around the balcony that ran the width of the home. On the lower level, the railing ran from the pillars to curve around at the corner.
The home was white and all the trim was white except for the front door. Shrubbery and trees were still small but would present attractive accents when larger. Indeed, Bart must be exceedingly wealthy to have built this mansion in Tarnation and still have money to open his bank.
When they had stopped, Harmon hopped down, very spry for a man of his apparent age. He helped her descend and offered his arm to walk her to the door.
“Let me ring the bell to let Mr. Tucker know you’re here.” He turned the ringer and stepped back.
Bart opened the door himself. He didn’t acknowledge Harmon, but held out his hand to her. “Welcome, welcome, Cassandra. Aren’t you a vision this evening? My guests have gathered in the parlor.”
Turning briefly, she thanked Harmon, who was on his way to the carriage.
She gazed around the impressive foyer’s marble floor and walnut wainscoting. From a ceiling decorated with cherubs and clouds, a glass chandelier hung. Dozens of candles cast prisms of light in every direction. Even Lydia’s home was not this elaborate.
Cassandra imagined herself inviting guests into this foyer and the rest of the house. How grand it was. Wouldn’t she love living in a home like this?
She confessed, “I’m a little nervous. I’ve experience attending social events in our home, but my grandmother and mother were always the primary hostesses. Your guests may find me awkward.”
He kissed her hand then tugged her with him. “You’ll enchant them just as you have me.”
She allowed him to lead her into a large parlor as elaborate as the entry. Above the taupe lower walls were white panels outlined in gold. Furnishings appeared to have been imported from France or created by
a master craftsman to give that appearance. A soft, pale green carpet covered most of the floor. Over the large fireplace hung a portrait of Bart. Elegant alabaster urns adorned the mantel.
He gestured to the elegant wall panels. “These medallions represent the four seasons. I imported the artist from New York.”
“Did he also paint your portrait?”
“Yes. As soon as we’re wed I’ll bring him here to paint yours as well. Let me introduce you to our guests.”
Our guests? As soon as we’re wed? Drat the man. He took too much for granted.
Five men of various ages and sizes stood holding drinks.
With his arm around her shoulders, Bart guided her near the group. “Gentlemen, allow me to present Miss Cassandra Bradford, my fiancée.”
She shot him a puzzled look to which he appeared oblivious. She didn’t want to make a scene in front of his guests, but she certainly was not engaged to him. Quelling her anger, she forced a smile for the men.
Standing nearest to her, Mr. Higgins was tall and thin. Both Mr. Percival and Mr. McClendon were portly. Mr. Fishman was a small dapper man with a mustache like Bart’s. The one introduced as Mr. Norman was the only ordinary-looking man present.
A middle-aged woman dressed in gray with a white apron and cap appeared in a doorway across the room. “Dinner is served, Mr. Tucker.”
Bart gestured to his houseguests. “Gentlemen, you know the way.” Placing a hand at her waist, he guided her.
Most gulped the rest of their drink before setting down the glass. Talking to one another as they walked, they appeared to be continuing a conversation from prior to her arrival. As they followed the others into the dining room, Bart ran his hand from her waist down to her derriere.
She stepped away and glared at him. “I certainly hope that familiarity was accidental.”
Smiling, he didn’t answer her.
The dining room was large and the table would seat at least twelve with no difficulty. Soft gold striped paper hung on the walls. Matching gold draperies were open to reveal white sheer panels.
A white damask tablecloth was set with beautiful china and gleaming silver cutlery. Crystal goblets were at each place. An urn of fresh flowers graced the table’s center and a silver candelabra set at each side. Against one wall a massive breakfront displayed more of the china.
“Here is your place, dear Cassandra.” Bart held her chair for her to be seated.
She was at his left and Mr. Percival was on her left. Mr. Norman sat at Bart’s right, so perhaps he was the most important of the visitors.
Once they were seated, the same maid who’d announced the meal carried in a soup tureen. She ladled soup into bowls at each place. A young man poured water and wine for each diner.
Cassandra dipped the correct spoon into the soup and tasted the creamy liquid. She savored and discovered it was only potato, but very tasty. She took another spoonful. “Mr. Percival, what town do you represent?”
“I own the bank at Doyle. Good place to live and do business.” He appeared to attempt pulling in his paunch and straightened in the chair.
She smiled and hoped he’d think the expression was for him instead of at his vanity. “Since I’m new to Texas, I don’t know where Doyle is located.”
“Ten miles southwest of Weatherford, which is forty miles west of Fort Worth. You probably traveled through Fort Worth on your way here.”
Bart reached over to grip her shoulder, his fingers caressing the bare spot above her dress. “Yes, she took the stage from Fort Worth. What a terrible ride that is. Better to ride a horse, and that’s bad enough. When we’re married, she’ll have her own horses and a sturdy buggy as well. I’ll see she gets to Fort Worth a couple of times a year to shop.”
Across from her, Mr. Norman slightly raised his eyebrows and sent her a wry smile. So, her distress wasn’t as hidden as she hoped. She inclined her head to the observant man.
She delicately—she hoped—shrugged off Bart’s hand and picked up her water goblet. “No matter how one travels, the distance is the same. Fortunately, the mercantile here has a nice selection and the owner will order anything not in stock.”
After a sip of water, she directed her attention to Mr. Norman. “Where is your bank located?”
“One in Possum Springs and one in Suarez. I live in the latter. Nice town tucked in the mountains north of here.”
“The mountains are picturesque, aren’t they? Different from the Smoky Mountains of Virginia, but I enjoy the view from my room at Mrs. Harrison’s.”
Bart gave a dismissive wave. “Ridiculous to call the Palo Pinto hills mountains.”
Mr. Norman leaned forward. “It’s a geological term, Tucker. They may not look like the Rockies, but the way they were formed makes them genuine mountains. They’ve long been important to the Indians.”
Cassandra laid her fork on her plate and dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “That’s interesting, Mr. Norman. I understand there are hot springs in this area also.”
From down the table, Mr. Higgins pointed his fork her way. “Those springs are one of the reasons the area was so important to Indians. Plus, some of the cold springs don’t dry up even in the heat of summer. Makes them valuable to ranchers as well.”
Bart put his hand on her back. “When we’re married, I’ll take you to see one of the hot springs. Nice for outdoor bathing under the moon.”
Cassandra was humiliated and angry he would make such a suggestive comment. “I hardly think that’s a proper topic of conversation tonight.”
He threw back his head and laughed then took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Such a respectable woman, my dear.” He looked at his other guests. “Gentlemen, you can see she will keep me on my toes.”
“Someone has to.” Mr. Norman smiled to take the sting from his words.
Cassandra had the distinct impression that Mr. Norman did not like Bart. She wondered at the opinion of the other four men around the table. By now the meal had been served and consumed.
She favored them with a smile. “You gentlemen go right ahead with your business discussion. I won’t interfere.”
Bart rose, signaling the meal was over. “Excuse me while I walk my fiancée to the carriage. Go ahead into the smoking room for cigars and brandy and I’ll join you soon.”
Each of the men bid her goodnight and mentioned meeting her was a pleasure. Bart offered his arm.
She was angry with Bart and didn’t want to accept his escort but she didn’t want to embarrass him in front of his guests. Placing her fingers lightly on his sleeve, she allowed him to lead her to the foyer where she collected her shawl and purse.
Instead of opening the front door, he shoved her back against the wood. He took her by surprise and she opened her mouth to protest. Before she could scold him, he pressed his mouth to hers and delved his tongue inside.
Pressing against her, his erection was evident even through her skirt. His grabbed her breast with one hand and cupped her derriere with the other. She pushed against him with all her strength.
He broke away and chuckled. “You’re right. Time enough for that once we’re wed. Then you’ll be all mine, Cassandra. I’ll keep you busy every night.”
She yanked open the door and wiped a hand across her lips. Ugh. One more second and she’d have punched him in the nose, guests or no guests. His kiss was nothing like Sam’s.
Bart’s mustache was soft but his kiss disgusted her. His behavior tonight disgusted her. He disgusted her.
Apparently unaware of his effect on her, Bart was all smiles as he walked her to the carriage and helped her inside.
She was certain the vehicle was in the same place as when she’d arrived. “Has Harmon been waiting here all evening?”
Bart shrugged a shoulder with lack of concern. “He’s paid to do what I ask. It’s not as if he had anything else to do.”
Hadn’t Bart any consideration for his employees? “He could have eaten his supper.”
Bart close
d the door. “I’ll see you soon, my dear. Thanks for your help tonight.”
Help my eye. He had only wanted to show off by parading her in front of his acquaintances. Lydia had told her to look at the man and not the surroundings. Well, she had done that and Bart Tucker fell short.
On the short ride to Lydia’s, Cassandra’s emotions were confused. At the same time, she wanted to cry and pound something. She’d lost Sam and didn’t want Bart. His home was lovely if he didn’t come with the bargain.
She’d thought she could marry for money as long as the man wouldn’t beat her. Now she knew her temperament wasn’t as she’d imagined. The thought of kissing Bart every night revolted her, much less the intimacy that went with marriage. No, not even if she never married.
But, she had to marry and bring Trenton to live with her. What was she going to do now? Her options were closed. Leaning her head against the supple leather upholstery, tears filled her eyes. Crying solved nothing and she brushed away the moisture.
After returning to Lydia’s, Cassandra was met by several of the young women.
Prudence asked, “What did his house look like inside?”
“The rooms I saw were elegant. The parlor appears to be French inspired and is very lavish. The dining room is also impressive but not as nice as Lydia’s.”
Rachel sidled near. “Did you learn whether or not his mustache is soft or bristly?”
Cassandra gasped. “Rachel, that’s a very personal question.”
Lydia clapped her hands. “A lady doesn’t discuss such things in a group. Anyone for a game of whist, chess, or backgammon?”
Several of the young women strolled toward the game room.
Cassandra touched Lydia’s arm. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Lydia squeezed Cassandra’s hand. “Did the evening go well?”
“I suppose. I remembered what you said. I-I’ll explain in the morning after I’ve had a chance to mull over everything that’s happened this week.”
They parted and Cassandra trudged up the stairs.
Angeline sat on the edge of the bed. “I hope I’m not making a mistake marrying Grady.”
Cassandra (Bride Brigade Book 3) Page 8