The Passions 0f Lord Trevethow (The Cornish Dukes Book 2)

by Bronwyn Scott

  The largest reasons of course was that Cassian wouldn’t come today after that scathing set-down and that was as it should be, needed to be. Second, she didn’t want to see him. At least that was what she told herself as she raised her fan to hide a yawn. Young Daniel Strathearn on her left was telling another story about his grandmother. He was very fond of his grandmother. This was the fourth story this afternoon. What she would give to be whisked away. She wondered if she could plead a headache and leave her aunt to manage the rest? But, no, a headache would land her in bed with one of Cook’s odious possets.

  There was a commotion at the drawing-room door, enough to excuse glancing away from Daniel Strathearn. Her fan stopped oscillating and her breath caught. Cassian had arrived. He’d come, after all. Her set-down had been nothing but a paper tiger and he’d charged right through it, which meant he didn’t believe there wasn’t anything left to say. That both consoled and concerned her. He wouldn’t have come back if he didn’t want something.

  Her aunt caught her eye with a quiet look of approval, a little smile of delight on her lips. In fact, every woman in the room, every cousin, every sister, every mother who’d accompanied their male relatives here today to make the visit look more altruistic, was smiling as he wove through the room. How could they not? He put every man in the room to shame. He was taller, broader, better dressed, more at ease. More everything. There was an energy that rolled off him and permeated the room. He made no secret of his intentions. All that masculinity was headed straight for her. Pen held her nervous hands still in the depths of her skirts. What did one say to a man she’d sent out of the house the prior night?

  He bowed before her, dressed for driving in immaculate in nankeen riding breeches, polished tall boots and coat of claret superfine with pristine linen beneath a cream waistcoat that sported a pattern of twining poppies. His jaw was new-shaven and his hair brushed back, exposing every sharp angle of his face: the strong jaw, the hawkish length of his nose. His whisky eyes were on her, a challenge on his lips. ‘Lady Penrose, you look a tad wilted today. I hope last night didn’t take a toll on you.’

  Wilted? Did he just say she looked wilted in a room full of men who’d been praising her beauty? There was a moment’s silence as if the rest of the room couldn’t believe what they’d heard either. ‘Perhaps we might rectify that with some fresh air.’ His eyes sparked. ‘May I interest you in a drive? You’re nearly done here. I’m sure the gentlemen won’t mind me stealing you since they’ve had you all afternoon. My phaeton is waiting outside.’

  Escape! Even if it was with Cassian. She was desperate enough to take it and perhaps it was the chance she needed to determine what his intentions were. If there was to be a battle between them, it was best to know her enemy. Pen glanced at her aunt for permission. ‘Air does sound wonderful,’ she prompted, earning a nod from her aunt. She put her hand in Cassian’s and let him lead her from the room while her guests looked on in varying degrees of disappointment.

  Cassian’s phaeton was a gorgeous bright blue lacquered affair with a black leather seat and pulled by two matched blacks jingling in their harness. They were groomed to perfection, coats gleaming and blue plumes dancing from their head gear. Hours of effort had gone into preparing the horses and the equipage. His tiger in blue livery rode on the rear bench beside a large wicker basket. ‘We’ll be noticed by everyone we pass,’ Pen commented as he handed her up to the high seat. Perhaps that was what he intended, to be as conspicuous as possible. She wasn’t sure she liked that.

  ‘That’s the point.’ Cassian grinned as he vaulted into the driver’s seat and picked up the reins. ‘I want everyone to know I went driving today with Lady Penrose Prideaux.’

  ‘The wilted flower of the ton? Are you sure you want to be seen with her?’ Pen queried.

  ‘I had to say something to get you out of there.’ Cassian turned the horses into the traffic. ‘We’ll take a turn through the park.’ That was what she feared; that he was a man who might say anything to get what he wanted. Had that been the case at the cottage? Were his words just pretty persuasion?

  ‘Why did you come at all? I thought I’d made myself clear last night. Are you a glutton for punishment?’

  ‘I’m a glutton for you.’ Cassian slid her a look that melted her resolve. ‘I came because I don’t want to give up on us. Matthew and Em had something special. Maybe Cassian and Pen can have that, too, but we have to discover it, to discover each other all over again or perhaps for the first time. Now, we can do it without pretence. We can be ourselves, all our cards are on the table. We don’t have to hide.’ He was so impassioned in his plea, she wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t, not yet.

  ‘Why would you want that? You were clearly ready to settle for less.’ She’d already accepted him at face value once before, to her detriment, she feared. She couldn’t afford to do that again.

  ‘Because I didn’t have a choice, Pen. You were gone. I had to move forward.’ They turned into the park, joining the line of carriages parading down the lanes, and Pen tried to summon the loathing, the sense of betrayal that had given her strength last night, but found her defences lacking.

  ‘And you chose Redruth’s daughter to move forward with. Why?’ The best she could do was wariness and caution. She needed her answers. He made it sound easy, but it wasn’t. There were things they couldn’t change, like the fact that he was willing to marry a woman he’d never met after he’d professed love to another. She needed a loyal man. Could he be that?

  ‘Redruth is close to home. It made sense for me to seek a Cornish alliance. I’m not out to hurt you, Pen.’ Cassian steered the phaeton into the park, choosing to enter through the Kensington Gate at the north-west corner as opposed to the much busier Cumberland entrance.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Pen twisted in her seat, looking around and noting the relative absence of people, of horses and carriages. The public had suddenly become quite private.

  ‘The north-west enclosure, some place where we can talk. It will be less crowded and I have a surprise for you. Do you trust me?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She was suddenly at sea. Did she dare trust him again?

  ‘That’s not a no, so it’s a beginning. I’ll take that.’ Cassian parked the phaeton and called for his tiger to hold the horses. ‘We’ll walk from here. Horses and carriages aren’t allowed in the enclosure.’ Cassian climbed down and came around. He reached up for her, his hands at her waist, and swung her down with an impressive ease that was not lost on her. She was nothing for his strength and she relished the feel of his hands on her, confident and warm. She’d missed his touch. ‘First things first, there’s someone who wants to meet you.’ He tucked her arm firmly through his as led her to the back of the phaeton and the big wicker basket. It rocked as they approached and a sharp bark escaped.

  ‘Oh! What is it?’ Pen exclaimed, startled by the sound.

  ‘Your birthday present.’ Cassian reached inside and lifted out the pup. ‘This is Oscar. I brought him with me when I went to the cottage. I’d wanted to give you a day with a puppy. Here, hold him.’ Cassian deposited him into her arms as the puppy wiggled.

  This was no good at all—how dare Cassian not play fair? One look at those dark puppy eyes and she was lost. How was she to resist Cassian and a puppy, too? ‘I can’t keep him,’ she stammered.

  ‘I know.’ Cassian grinned boyishly. He fastened a leash around Oscar’s collar. ‘I’ll keep him for you.’

  ‘I’ll be forced to visit you,’ Pen pointed out, another unfair move.

  ‘Yes, exactly.’ Cassian took the puppy and set him on the ground. ‘Now, Lady Pen, would you like to walk your dog?’

  Oh, she did! This was a childhood dream come true. She shouldn’t accept it, she knew he was bribing her. It scared and exhilarated her. He’d brought the puppy all the way to London. She furrowed her brow and stopped. ‘Why did you bring the puppy t
o London if you didn’t know I’d be here?’

  Cassian stopped too. ‘Because I missed Em that much and the puppy was a way to keep her close. Why do you wear that glass heart?’ She reached up to finger it with her free hand.

  ‘Because I miss Matthew,’ she admitted. ‘But that doesn’t mean...’

  ‘I know what it doesn’t mean, Pen,’ Cassian said softly. He ushered her and Oscar through the front gates of the enclosure, his hand light at her back. ‘There are benches inside where we can sit.’ He laughed, a low, familiar chuckle at her ear. ‘I know a game we can play. Twenty questions. Maybe you’ve heard of it?’

  ‘Like old times?’ Pen asked, immediately wary, not only of him and the easy assumptions he made with his hands and his words, but also of herself and the ease with which she’d gladly glide back into the old behaviour if she wasn’t vigilant.

  Cassian shook his head, his gaze resting on her. ‘No, like new times. I don’t think we can go back, Pen. We can only go forward.’ But the past would come forward with them. It would always be between them, reminding them of the potential for passion, for loss, and the consequences of risk, both the good and the bad. ‘Give me a chance to know the real you. Give yourself a chance to know the real me before you decide to throw happiness away with both hands.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Pen could see why he’d chosen this spot. It was peaceful and green. There was a pasture with deer and cows to one side and a keeper’s lodge to the other. The Serpentine served as one border and Kensington Gardens served as another. Within the enclosure, two springs contributed to the country coolness of the space. ‘Would you like a glass?’ Cassian offered as they strolled past an old woman sitting at a table beside the springs. Oscar gave her a friendly high-pitched puppy yap. ‘One of the springs is a mineral spring.’ Cassian stopped and fished out coins from his pocket for two glasses. ‘You should try some. The water is always cold. Perfect for a warm day like today.’ He gave her a glass and they went to the spring to drink.

  Pen sipped the water, tentative about the taste. She smiled, pleasantly surprised as the cool water slid down her throat. ‘It’s so much more refreshing than hot tea. What’s the other spring for? Is it mineral water, too?’

  ‘People come to bathe their eyes from it. I don’t know if it works. Do you have weak eyes? Should we try?’ Cassian laughed and the sound made her smile. This was the man she’d wandered the St Piran’s Day fair with, to whom everything was an adventure.

  ‘I’ll pass on that today. My eyes are fine.’ She could feel herself starting to relax, starting to remember how it was between them, how easily they talked, how comfortably they moved together. Surely those things weren’t lies? Remembering made it easy to forget the wariness she’d armed herself with, the knowledge that this man, who wasn’t dangerous to Em, was indeed dangerous to Pen. She needed to determine how dangerous and in what ways.

  ‘I think the enclosure’s gamekeeper has the best job in the world,’ Cassian nodded towards the lodge with its picturesque gardens. ‘To be able to live here, surrounded by the feel of the countryside, and still be in one of the world’s most vibrant cities. Anything he wants or needs is within his grasp without sacrificing tranquillity.’ He gave her a smile. ‘How do you find your first time in London?’

  ‘In a word, overwhelming. There are so many rules, so many people, so many things to do and to see, and everything seems to require a change of dress to do it. Phin is determined that I see it all. He’s taken me everywhere: the Tower, Astley’s, Gunter’s, we’ve seen the cathedrals, the British Museum, the art at Somerset House. I’ve shopped on Bond Street incessantly and excessively. I’ve never had as many clothes or needed as many.’ This was safe conversation. It was personal but not terribly probing. There was nothing dangerous in it, no disclosures, no secrets.

  They stopped beneath a shady oak. Cassian brushed off the bench, freeing it of tree debris for her to sit. Em would not have cared, but Em hadn’t worn expensive Bond Street gowns. ‘Can’t have you ruining your dresses,’ he teased. ‘London suits you. There’s an adventure around every corner. Isn’t that what you wanted?’ Oh, there it was, the danger, in just a few words, there was the reminder that she’d shared her innermost thoughts with him. That he was the keeper of her secrets, the things she told no one else.

  ‘It does suit, in a way.’ She was contemplative as they rested, enjoying the view of the pasture as Oscar romped in the grass. ‘But London takes some getting used to. It’s thrown several things into sharp relief for me.’

  ‘Like what?’ Cassian whispered the prompt, coaxing the intimacy to life between them, overriding her misgivings.

  ‘Do you truly want to know? They’re rather dark things.’ She cocked her head and fixed him with her green stare, challenging him. ‘Along with the adventure, there’s also noise and danger lurking around every corner, especially for a woman.’

  ‘Is that your father speaking or is that you?’ Cassian queried to her surprise.

  ‘You remembered.’ She softened, touched that he’d recalled the story she’d told him in the cottage. ‘Perhaps it’s both. However, I wonder if it’s really true or if that’s a construct men have made up to keep women dependent. Even in London, a supposedly civilised city, I can’t go anywhere without an escort. Apparently, even a gentleman of my own class can’t be trusted to not be a ravening beast, unable to control his urges in my feminine presence. My very femininity is enough to tempt him. To make his lack of control my fault is ridiculous.’ She sighed.

  ‘You’re safe with me, Pen.’ His hand was warm on hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles. This was her opening and she took it.

  ‘Am I? It occurred to me, after the shock of seeing you again had settled, that I might be in the greatest danger from you. You would only have come back today if there was something you wanted and you have the power to get it.’ She let her eyes linger on him, watching his face for any reaction, that she was right. ‘The cottage, Cassian. You could blackmail me with it.’

  A slow smile spread across his face. Apparently, he found some humour in her very serious suggestion. ‘And you could blackmail me with the same. Have you thought of that?’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. ‘Perhaps I am the one in danger? Perhaps, now that you know who I am, you will go to your father and say I compromised you. I know many girls who would do it to be a duchess.’ He chuckled. ‘Yet, I risked coming back today.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t do such a thing!’ Pen protested, aghast at the thought. In her fear and in her haste, she’d not thought of that.

  ‘Maybe that’s why I risked it. Because I knew you wouldn’t any more than I would do it to you,’ he assured her with a laugh. ‘What suspicious minds we have, Pen. No wonder we decided on false identities.’

  But it was no laughing matter to Pen. She studied his face for a moment, a thought coming to her. ‘Is it because of your brother? You mentioned he was thwarted in love.’ It would have been a high-born alliance, she could see that now.

  ‘In part.’ Cassian shifted on the bench and crossed a leg over one knee. Ah, the topic made him uncomfortable. Well, good. It was his turn for a change. ‘He fell in love with the daughter of a man he made investments with, only she was a decoy. He loved her, but her love for him was not real—it was an act to draw him in. It destroyed him. I would prefer to avoid such hardship if I could.’

  ‘Is that possible, though? I don’t think love works that way. Love is hard, it demands sacrifice. If it was easy, the poets would have nothing to write about,’ Pen said softly. ‘I am sorry for him and for you in the losing of him.’

  ‘I’d most likely be cynical any way, just as you are.’ Cassian offered her a wry smile. ‘It’s not much fun being hunted. It’s why I could not give you my real name.’ She’d not forgotten how the women in the drawing room today had looked at him, with naked hunger in their eyes. They would devo
ur him if given the chance, all for his title, with little thought for the man who bore it, the man who could build fires and sail a little boat among the seals of Mutton Cove. What she would give to be back in Mutton Cove now, with him.

  ‘No, it’s not.’ She gave him a meaningful stare.

  ‘Do you think I’m hunting you?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Like you, I have to assume everyone is hunting me,’ she answered. ‘We are just animals in the great cage of London. The longer I’m here the more I realise I’ve confused adventure with freedom and what I really want is the latter. I want to be free. Free to make my own choices, to go where I want to go, to marry how I want to marry. To be who I want to be.’

  ‘Is that why you went to the fair?’ They were talking softly now. Birds chirped in the background.

  ‘Yes.’ The old intimacy flared to life between them, stoked into being by his touch, his voice, his words, the very nearness of him a source of support and solace. She offered him a smile tinged with mischief. ‘Do you want to know a secret? The fair wasn’t the first time I sneaked out of the castle.’

  Cassian laughed, a low, deep rumble just for her. ‘You minx. Where do you go when you sneak out?’

  ‘To the hills. I like to walk and pick flowers and look for the little animals.’ She looked down at their hands. ‘How do you do it? How do you convince me to tell you all of this? Whenever I’m with you everything just comes out: my secrets, my fears, my hopes. I don’t talk to anyone the way I talk to you.’ And maybe she shouldn’t. She didn’t want to give him any more power than that which he already had.

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ His eyes were on her. She knew that look, the one that lingered on her eyes and caressed her lips, just before his body leaned in, his head tilted to capture her lips, his mouth on hers, reminding her. A little mewl welled up in her throat as his hand cupped her jaw, encouraging her to open to him entirely. ‘I mean to prove myself to you, Pen. I want you back,’ he murmured between kisses. In those moments, she wanted that too. She wanted to pretend that he had no other agenda, that there was no danger here on the bench, just pleasure, just them and that a man could love her just for herself. Later she would remember all the reasons to resist.