Dash of Enchantment

by Patricia Rice

  Cassandra made a wry moue. “I am aware of that. I have had to persuade several of the more intrepid youngsters that it is not polite to play in other people’s houses uninvited. I think they are beginning to get the message.”

  Wyatt felt as if the message were escaping him. Cassandra had removed her cotton kerchief in the warmth of the sun, and her red-gold hair shone gloriously against the backdrop of evergreen vines and blackened stone. Daringly he looked into the vivid aqua of her eyes and read the truth there.

  “You are not staying here?” he whispered hoarsely.

  “I will agree with you if that makes you happy.” Cassandra shrugged blithely. “Just take my farewells and leave. Perhaps it is better if you remain uncertain. I have no wish to have Duncan or my husband informed of my whereabouts.”

  Unreasoning anger swept through Wyatt at this callous dismissal of his fears and worries of these last weeks. He had spent weeks chastising himself for having left her alone in the carriage, for not having forced Duncan to give her up in marriage, for not having done any of countless things to prevent the tragedy of that night. He had berated himself and piled guilt upon sin at the thought of her innocence violated at the hands of a brute like Rupert.

  His worst nightmare been that she had done away with herself, and only when no trace of her body was found had he allowed himself to believe she might still live. She had turned his life into a raging chaos, and she dared dismiss his concerns with a shrug and a lie!

  Grabbing her arm and ignoring the startled look she threw him, Wyatt dragged Cassandra toward the crumbling pile of stones. “Show me where you live. Convince me you are safe and protected here.”

  Cassandra jerked her arm from his grip. “It is no business of yours whether I am safe or not. It has not mattered to anyone but myself and my mother for these past nineteen years. Do not extend your concern at this late date, my lord.”

  Nineteen. It was mid-May now. Wyatt vaguely recollected gala birthday parties thrown in the child’s honor when she had lived here long ago, right about this time of year. She had turned nineteen alone in this crumbling pile of stone. Merrick strode after her as she slipped from his grasp and disappeared around the corner of the house.

  He followed the drive around the blank walls of the kitchens, the private side entrance now buried under an avalanche of scorched rock, and to the once impressive grand facade of the front.

  The fire had burned hottest in the kitchen, leaving the portico and front steps relatively unscathed, but even a casual observer could see the sky through shattered casements. The tiled roof had fallen through to the attics, and years of rain and neglect had collapsed any unburned portions of the interior.

  Cassandra was nowhere in sight.

  A torn vine waved in the breeze over the gaping hole of the front entrance. Merrick angled his high riding boots over a fallen lintel and ducked beneath the canopy of greenery to enter the towering foyer. One glance upward revealed glimpses of sky through moldering wood and crumbling dusts of plaster.

  Scavengers had carried off polished wood that the fire had missed. What stones could be lifted had been trundled off in wheelbarrows and added to barn foundations and pigsties over half the county. The tiled floor had deep cracks through which weeds and shrub trees pressed, or had the last time he had been here. Merrick noted their lack now with suspicion.

  Voices further into the interior of the house provided the final piece of evidence for his suspicions. Climbing over tumbled lathes, Merrick traversed the center hall in search of the occupants.

  The laughter spilling through the abandoned rooms could have only one source. Merrick stopped and hesitated beneath the railless circular stairway. She had not invited him in here. Every moral precept that he had ever learned insisted that he leave at once.

  Instead, he strode ahead to throw open the charred door to the flag-stoned terrace room and conservatory.

  Caught in the act of arranging a bouquet of flowers, Cassandra halted with a bright-colored tulip in her hand. The young maid laughing with her turned, gave his forbidding look a swift glance and hastily departed.

  Merrick studied the newly cleaned floor, the charred but still solid stone walls, and glanced cautiously to the cracked cherubs on the ceiling. The wall of shattered windows facing the south slope of the park had been recently boarded over. Merrick could see that the airy ironwork and glass in the conservatory had received the same treatment, blocking out light as well as the elements. Lanterns placed around the room provided the only illumination.

  “I apologize for intruding, my lady,” Merrick replied stiffly to the question in her eyes. “I could not in all conscience allow you to come to harm because of my failure to warn you of the dangers of these walls.”

  “They are my walls.” Cassandra set her tulip in its place in a cracked but still usable delft vase. “You really need not fret yourself, my lord. As I told you, it is none of your concern.”

  What remained of his patience ran out. “Cassandra, you are behaving like a petulant child. You are endangering yourself and your servant by remaining here when there is no need. I will be only too happy to provide you with shelter of whatever sort you choose. Come back to the house with me, where we can discuss these things reasonably.”

  Incredulous blue eyes lifted to bowl him backward with their volatile fire. “Your home? To that termagant mother of yours? She has all but turned the dogs loose on me. No, thank you, my lord. I am quite comfortable here.”

  Merrick sensed her impatience for him to leave. She had placed him in an insupportable position. He could not leave her in this crumbling ruin. Equally, he could not carry her off screaming to his own home. Only a Howard would be mad enough to dream up this bedevilment.

  An emaciated scarecrow of a man entered silently. The anxious maid crept in behind him.

  “Could I be of assistance in seeing you out, my lord?” The man bowed courteously from the waist, but the insolence in his tone was thinly disguised. He straightened and regarded the earl with jaundiced eye. “The path can be somewhat treacherous to the uninitiated. Let me lead the way.”

  She was having him thrown out! Merrick turned to the marquess’s lovely daughter for confirmation and caught the faint nod of her head. The smile had gone from her lips and a shadow of sorrow darkened her eyes, but she did not stop this charade.

  Irate, Merrick whirled on his heel and stalked out ahead of the cadaverous butler. Butler! He shook his head in bemusement at the thought.

  The brilliantly lovely daughter of the late Marquess of Eddings, the wife of the fabulously wealthy Sir Rupert Percival, an Incomparable yet to grace the halls of London society—living like a hermit in an abandoned ruin with a butler and a lady’s maid to attend her.

  Only a Howard could do it.

  Shaking his head, Merrick marched out into the spring sunlight and wondered where the clouds had come from.

  Chapter 10

  Cassandra closed her eyes against the crack of sunlight shining through the chink in the ceiling. Once there had been two floors and a roof above this room to keep out the elements. She didn’t want to know what remained between her and the world outside right now.

  She snuggled deeper into the goosedown pallet on which she slept. Lotta and Jacob were amazingly resourceful. She wondered what farmer’s wife had been persuaded to part with this lovely bedding, but she didn’t dare question the pair too closely.

  Musing over the oddity of the disparate coupling of the voluptuous young maid and the lanky, formal gentlemen’s gentleman, Cassandra was slow to notice the pounding and sawing some distance away. As the noise gradually intruded on her consciousness, a scraping sounded at the doorway.

  “My lady, Cass, are you awake?”

  They had been friends too long for Lotta to maintain proper decorum. Cassandra stretched and wrapped her woolen blanket around her shoulders. The spring nights were still chilly, and they had yet to discover any safe way of providing heat. What parts of the chimneys still
remained standing had become a harbor for sparrows and swifts. There wasn’t a chimney sweep in the world who would risk climbing out on these roofs to clear them out.

  “What is it, Lotta? And what’s that noise? Surely Jacob isn’t trying to put up more boards?” She remembered with a shudder the day the valet-turned-jack-of-all-trades had attempted to cover one of the broken windows.

  The door jerked and creaked as Lotta lifted it on its rusty hinges. The shaft of sunlight from the ceiling provided the room’s only light.

  “That’s what I come about. There’s a swarm of men up there on the roof hammering and banging away. Do you reckon Duncan sent them?”

  Cassandra experienced alarm before she stopped to think. Then she shook her head at the impossibility. She didn’t know how much money Duncan had connived out of Rupert before the wedding, but it was a certainty that he had received none since.

  “Send Jacob out to find who sent them. I’ll get dressed and join you in a minute. I suspect I know who’s behind this.”

  Cassandra reached for the simple gown she had worn the day before. She wanted to look like a scullery maid. She had no desire to ever see another smoking pistol used in her name again.

  When she had dressed and tied her hair back in a ribbon, she let herself out through the newly built wooden door at the rear of the conservatory. The tile and stone that had once kept plants cool and moist in the summer had withstood the fire much better than the elegant paneling and woods in the rest of the house.

  She patted the limestone walls cheerfully as she stepped into the sunlight.

  A bevy of workmen crawled and pounded and worked at the low roof over the garden wing that housed their small living space. They had already leveled off a portion of the upper walls to provide a surface for new beams that men on the ground were sawing to size.

  Cassandra could think of only one man who could single-handedly summon so much efficiency on such short notice. When Jacob loped across the lawn to greet her, she was not surprised to hear Lord Merrick’s name.

  “They say they’re here on his lordship’s orders, my lady,” Jacob explained at her question. “They won’t leave without his orders.”

  Cassandra bit back a vivid curse. She didn’t need to be told more. Work was hard to come by in these parts. These men wouldn’t be deprived of a day’s wages without a fight. She had found them all too eager to come at her beck and call for nigh on to nothing whenever she needed work done.

  Well, Merrick could just put them to work on his estate. She couldn’t afford them, and she wasn’t accepting his charity. She needed farmers, not carpenters, not yet.

  Lifting her hand to shade her eyes, she glared up at the men clambering about on her roof. “All right, Jacob, I’ll see to this. Tell Lotta to see if that lazy hen has laid any eggs this morning. I’ll be needing a decent meal by the time I finish traipsing across these fields.”

  Jacob gave her a speculative look. “Perhaps his lordship is apologizing for his unwarranted intrusion yesterday. Would it not be proper to be gracious and accept his unorthodox manner of apologizing?”

  “I realize a sound roof will be more comfortable when it rains, but I am not about to compromise his reputation or mine any more than they have been. If I have learned nothing else, I have learned gentlemen expect a return for their favors. No, thank you, Jacob. I am not my brother or Rupert. I will get by without anyone’s charity. I will be sure to save sufficient cash to see you and Lotta paid at the end of the quarter as usual. You know I will provide adequate references should you wish to seek employment elsewhere.”

  The butler/valet straightened stiffly. “I did not doubt your word, my lady. I merely sought your comfort. You are in the right, of course. Forgive me.”

  He managed to sound insulted and aggrieved at the same time. She knew theatrics when she saw them. She ignored his demonstration of loyalty and stalked off across the field to Merrick House.

  Wouldn’t the Countess Merrick be surprised to see the bane of her existence at the breakfast table?

  Shortly later, the countess raged into the drawing room when Cassandra refused to leave.

  “Good morning, my lady.” Cassandra turned innocent eyes to the heavily fleshed woman in brocade entering the room. “Please pardon my not calling upon you sooner. The exigencies of moving from city to country are probably not known to someone who has led such a staid and respectable life in the same place for so long. I do hope you never have to undergo such travail.”

  The countess straightened to her full magnificent height. “I am certain that I never shall move about in such a harum-scarum manner. Did my servant not tell you we are not receiving today?”

  “But this is a business and not a social call, my lady.” Not having been offered a seat, Cassandra sat anyway. She threw an admiring glance around the room, noting the age of the draperies, the dust under the hundred-year-old furniture, and the signs of wear in the carpet.

  Wyatt would not note such humdrum details but his mother ought certainly to have seen such things if she were to play lady of the manor. She had heard much of this dragon Wyatt called mother. It would be interesting to try pulling a few of her teeth. “I have come to see Lord Merrick. I will be quite content to sit here until he has time to see me.”

  The dowager’s jaw dropped and her bulging eyes appeared to protrude a little more at such bad manners. “You most certainly will not! I will tell Wyatt you wish to speak with him, and he will call upon you when and if it is convenient for him. He is a very busy man and hasn’t time to be bothered with trivialities.”

  Cassandra smoothed the rough weave of her blue broadcloth skirt as if it were silk, then smiled graciously at her hostess. “And to think you were almost my mama-in-law. Do you think we should suit?”

  The dowager’s high-pitched wail brought instant reaction. A liveried footman raced to catch her as she slumped, and a masculine voice echoed with irritation from down the hall.

  “What the hell is wrong now? Hanley, go see what is happening. James, see if my curricle is ready yet. Why the deuce a man can’t have a moment’s peace...”

  His commands abruptly halted as he stepped into the salon. Caught in the act of drawing on his gloves, Wyatt froze. “Lady Cassandra.”

  “Lord Merrick,” she mimicked perfectly. She said nothing further, leaving him to wallow in the mire and find his way out of this social nightmare.

  Rapidly overcoming her vapors, Lady Merrick resolved the dilemma. “Send her home, Wyatt! Do not let her corrupt you with her scheming wiles! Send her back to her husband.”

  Merrick lifted a puzzled brow at his prostrate parent, then turned to Cassandra. “My lady, perhaps a breath of fresh air would do us good?”

  “Very neatly done, my lord,” Cassandra said approvingly.

  Taking Wyatt’s arm, she stopped before the haughty dowager taking smelling salts from a terrified maid. “I’d recommend fresh air and exercise, Lady Merrick. My mother prospers greatly if lavished with those rare commodities. Thank you for your hospitality. I will be pleased to call upon you on a better occasion.”

  She swept out of the room on the earl’s arm, well aware of her audience. The contrast between her simple cotton dress and Merrick’s tailored coat and immaculate breeches must be striking, but she felt more comfortable this way. At least, swathed from head to toe in crude cotton, she knew men weren’t staring at her bosom.

  Merrick halted at the foot of the wide stairway where his curricle awaited. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  The smile disappeared from Cassandra’s face as she met his dry gaze. “You know very well to what you owe this visit, Wyatt. I did not expect it of you, indeed, I did not. I will not apologize for upsetting your mother. You deserved it. I cannot believe you were so very wicked. I want you to call those men away right now, and I want you to give them their day’s wages even if they don’t finish the job. Find them employment elsewhere, I don’t care, but do not seek to varnish your reputation at t
he ruin of mine.”

  Wyatt gaped in astonishment at this tirade from one so young, but then he remembered to whom he spoke. Cassandra’s looks were her greatest asset, and not in the usual way that was meant.

  It was her seeming innocence that kept deceiving him. He had to remember this vision of sunshine and roses could swindle a man to his last penny and drive a grown man to desperation. The last was the only possible reason he could conceive of for the catastrophe of her wedding night.

  “I had no intention of doing more than offering a neighborly hand, my lady,” Merrick responded coldly. “As you say, the men needed work and I offered them some. I would have done the same for anyone.”

  “Then send them to mend Mrs. Smith’s chicken-house so the fox won’t eat her hens again. Remove them from my property now, Merrick!”

  She stamped her foot and put her hands on her hips and scowled at him with ferocity. Merrick grinned.

  “Since you put it so politely, of course, my lady. If you will join me, we can drive over there now.” He offered his arm to assist her into the waiting carriage.

  “I will walk,” she insisted with dignity.

  “I will not come.” He beamed with amusement at her irate glare. “You have had things your own way too long, Cass. I’ll not be browbeaten by a pretty face and a sharp tongue. You wish me to accompany you back to your house, then it shall be at my convenience, not yours.”

  “I thought you were a gentleman, Wyatt Mannering! You are the one who turned my house all into an uproar, now you must undo it. I don’t know why I must suffer your company for you to do so.”

  Wyatt was adamant. “I don’t know why you should object to a simple carriage ride. I have no intention of abducting you.”

  Huffily she refused his arm and climbed into the curricle on her own. The open vehicle tilted under Wyatt’s weight, but she stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence.