“Sulking is scarcely ladylike, Cass. I still cannot fathom why you will not accept my offer of help. If we are neighbors, we need to be friends.”
“Had I been Duncan, would you have sent workmen to repair his roof without permission?”
Merrick whistled softly to himself and whipped the reins of his horse as they turned onto the rutted roadway that ran along the front boundaries of their estates. “I had not thought of it that way. Of course I wouldn’t have. But then, I wouldn’t care if raindrops fell on Duncan’s head for the rest of his life, either. He got himself where he is today, let him reap the results.”
“And you think I am so helpless that I had no responsibility for getting myself where I am today?” Cassandra inquired scathingly. “Little do you know the power of a woman, my lord. I got myself here, and I will get myself out. Without your help.”
There was little Merrick could say in reply. She was in all probability quite right. He had offered her an alternative to Rupert, and she had refused him.
He knew he did not have Rupert’s handsomeness or social grace, and he certainly did not possess Rupert’s wealth. And Rupert was a few years younger than himself. From the viewpoint of a young girl, he could see why Cassandra had made her decision. Yet he could not quite get over his disbelief.
She had kissed him with a passion he had never before experienced in his life, yet that kiss had obviously meant nothing to her. It was time to consider taking a mistress if he let one kiss from a girl fresh out of the schoolroom go straight to his head.
Chapter 11
“I’m that sorry, m’lord, but I won’t be helping with the planting this year. You see, well, me and Meg been talking of marrying, and with what I figure to make working for Lady Cass, we’ll be able to set up housekeeping come fall. I’ll understand if you’ll need the cottage to let to someone else. I know her ladyship ain’t got nothing to let me, but I’m figuring I’ll get by till the weather turns. And her ladyship says I can have a choice of places to build when I’m ready. You see how it is, your lordship. A man has to take care of his own the best he sees how.”
Beating his riding crop thoughtfully against the top of his leather boot, Merrick regarded the young farmer with a slight frown. Wigginton was one of his best workers, ambitious, hardworking, self-driven. He hated to lose him. What could Cass possibly have offered that he could not?
“I understand, Wigginton. A man must look out for his own. Can I not match what Lady Cassandra has offered?”
The tow-haired young man scuffed his old shoe in the dirt without looking up to his employer and his landlord. “She promised me half of everything made from the crop I raise. I know that land, your lordship. It’s been fallow a long time. This first year won’t be the best, but I can make it grow. It’s the best chance I got.”
He was beginning to sound defensive, and Merrick understood his position. Merrick could provide a cottage and equipment and seeds, but the cost of that cut into his profits to such a degree that he could never match Cass’s offer. Cass, on the other hand, had nothing to lose by her generous proposition. She was just teaching the young man to gamble.
“What will you use to plow the fields?” Wyatt inquired.
Wigginton straightened his shoulders and dared a quick look at the earl. “My grandpap built a plow of his own. It’s not like one of yours, of course, your lordship, but it’s sturdy and I’m strong. Maybe by next fall, there’ll be money to buy a better.”
“Well, Wigginton, I hate to lose you, you know that. And if things don’t work out as you plan, you’re always welcome back. I can’t afford to lose too many workers like you. Are there others considering taking up Lady Cassandra’s offer?”
The young man glanced down at the ground again. “One or two, m’lord. Them without families, leastways. It’s an opportunity that don’t often come our way, and it’s better than the mines.”
“Yes, I can understand that. I wish you the best of luck, Wigginton. I’ll not need the cottage immediately. You can stay on awhile longer, if you like. There will be a reckoning to pay come harvest, of course, but I’ll make it fair.”
Wigginton tugged his forelock gratefully. “Thank you, m’lord.”
Wyatt whistled to himself as he strode back to his horse. He began to understand his mother’s tantrums over Cass’s arrival. It wasn’t just Cass’s reputation that was driving his mother wild. It was her interference with their tenants.
Cass was clever, he would grant her that. What cottages remained on the Howard estate had gone to rack and ruin. The equipment and animals had been sold off long ago. The fields were a mire of bramble and weed, but the land beneath was good soil that Wyatt would have given a fair sum to own. It was all Cassandra needed to tempt a farmer.
It was not enough to make her wealthy. One bad year could wipe her out, but Cass had been raised to be a gambler.
He had always presumed that land was entailed since Duncan neither sold it to pay his debts nor gambled it away. Cassandra could be risking everything if her brother discovered her intentions. Wyatt scowled.
It was his responsibility to write to Duncan and inform him of his sister’s whereabouts. The marquess had seemed truly anxious over his sister’s disappearance, although he had hidden it well by scoffing and repeating his usual phrases about Cass taking care of herself.
Wyatt still had not resolved to report her by the time he rode into the village to discover the object of his thoughts sweeping through town in her colorful skirt with a market basket on her arm.
~*~
Cassandra could not miss the massive stallion and its elegant master riding through the narrow street of low stone cottages. Although Merrick had not bothered with hat or intricate cravat, he still maintained the aura of an aristocrat in his tailored riding coat and tight trousers. The immaculately polished riding boots alone distinguished him as a man with the resources to employ a skilled valet. Cassandra felt her lack of even a decent means of bathing and abruptly started toward the bakery.
A familiar shout caused her to swing around with a mixture of hope and despair. Merrick would never be so rude as to shout, but Bertie had never been bothered by such niceties. He hurried after her now, even as Merrick swung down from his stallion. She was fairly caught, and she tried not to look too closely at the scowl marring the earl’s noble forehead.
As long as she was caught, she ought to make the best of it. Holding out her hands, she forced Bertie to take them in his own. With a catch in her voice she managed a small whisper. “I’m so sorry, Bertie, I have never been able to tell you...”
Her voice broke and she hastily dropped Bertie’s hands and turned to hide her tears.
“It ain’t nothing to weep over, Cass,” Bertie assured her. “Tom was half-bosky or he’d never been fool enough to go out. He’s learned his lesson the hard way.”
That seemed a callous way to regard a brother’s death, and Cass wiped her eyes to stare at him. “Hard lesson? Bertie, he was the bravest, sweetest...”
“Most foolish idiot that ever walked the earth,” Wyatt finished, arriving to hear this last. He gave Bertie a warning look. “Lady Cassandra has been somewhat out of touch with the city these last few weeks.”
Cass shot him a furious glare. “You will not talk about Thomas that way in front of me. I owe him my life, and I intend to make it up to his family one way or another. It might take me years...”
Bertie grinned. “Just come over and hold his hand for a while and you’ll have made it up to the pestilence. Worst patient my mother’s had in years. She’d be grateful for a little reprieve, and Tom would be over the hoop with joy at having you for nurse.”
Cassandra caught her breath in astonishment and growing hope. Merrick gave her a wry gaze.
“You’ve stopped her tongue, Albert. Mark how you did that. I’m certain we’ll have cause to recall it in the future. I believe the lady was under the mistaken impression the lad was a martyr to her cause.”
That was the ou
tside of enough. She had never given Merrick reason to insult her like that, or make little of her feelings. She shot him a scathing look and took Bertie’s arm.
“You are as thoroughly unpleasant as my brother warned you were, my lord,” she informed Merrick coldly before turning back to Bertie. “Please come in and have tea with me at Mrs. Singer’s and tell me how Thomas fares. You cannot imagine...”
Panicking at the thought of entertaining the marquess’s daughter all on his own, Bertie gestured at his friend. “I say, Merrick, you better come with us. You do a better job at explaining these things.”
“I need explain nothing, Scheffing. The less said, the better, in Lady Cassandra’s case. I have told you from the first that it is not wise to talk about what happened. The gossip has been scandalous enough, and Thomas is lucky the authorities have not arrested him. I don’t believe the lady would want it to get about that there’s some chance the lad might live. Rupert might take it into his head to return from exile if he thought he was safe from the law.”
Cassandra felt the blood rush from her head, but she held her chin high and continued to clutch Bertie’s arm. “I can see no harm in my lending a hand to nurse Thomas. I owe him much more than that.”
Merrick scowled. “That was an idiot notion to give her, Bertie. She is neither sister, nor mother, nor wife, and has no right to be tending an unmarried gentleman.”
Cassandra and Bertie both began to reply at once, but Cassandra rode roughshod over Bertie’s much less emphatic replies. “I shall do as I see fit without your instruction, my lord. I am a married woman now, and not your wife. I shall go right now to extend my gratitude.” Dropping Bertie’s arm, she lifted up her stiff cotton skirt and petticoat and started down the street.
“Disturb the Scheffings anymore, and I will tell your brother where to find you,” Merrick warned as she began to stride away.
Her step faltered, but she did not stop.
~*~
Cassandra sat beside the wounded man’s bedside, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched his labored breathing in sleep. Someone had discreetly pulled the covers over the bare muscularity of Thomas’ shoulders and upper arms. Cassandra scarcely took note.
Bertie and the maid stirred restlessly as she clasped the patient’s hand. She wanted to send them both away, but Wyatt’s admonitions had caused Bertie to take back his suggestion of playing nurse. If only Thomas would open his eyes...
As if in response to her thoughts, Thomas’ eyelids flickered and his hand twitched between her fingers. Then he was staring up at her, and Cassandra beamed with delight. Impulsively she leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“My hero,” she whispered wickedly against his ear.
Thomas grinned a slow, sleepy grin. “Lady Cass. Have I died and gone to heaven?”
“You’ll not find me there,” she admonished, sitting up again. “If you want to see me, it will have to be in this world and not the next one.”
His gaze did not leave her face. “This world’s fine. Will you stay?”
Bertie hurried to put a halt to his brother’s meanderings. “Lady Cass just came by to see how you fared. Now that she knows mere bullets don’t stop us Scheffings, she’ll have to be on her way.”
The boy’s warm expression grew remote, and he removed his hand from Cassandra’s. “Of course. You will be joining your husband. Thank you for your concern. I apologize for any trouble I have caused you.”
Cassandra threw Bertie an impatient look and reclaimed the hand picking at the covers. “I have no intention of ever seeing Rupert again. I owe you my life, Thomas. I would repay you in any way I can.”
The grin returned. “Marry me, and we’ll call it even.”
Cassandra laughed, squeezed his hand, and kissed his cheek in farewell. “Of course. How can I do any less? I must leave now before Bertie worries himself into a fit. You must get better so you can come and court me properly.”
Bertie watched his brother’s face glow with more color and animation than he had shown since his injury, and he had to give the girl credit. If he’d had all that sunset-blond beauty bent over him, kissing his cheek, he’d glow like a lantern too. For a chit scarcely out of the schoolroom, Lady Cass certainly had a way of turning men’s heads without even trying. Why, then, was Merrick so grumpy with her?
It didn’t matter to Bertie. Were she not already wedded, he’d court her himself. Of course, he was supposed to make a wealthy match, but Cass wouldn’t mind if they weren’t rich.
Driving her home after the visit, Bertie cast her pale face a speculative look. A wife without a husband, and not even had a Season yet. But that was a Howard for you. Did everything backward.
Despite Bertie’s objections, Cassandra asked him to let her off at the drive to the Eddings’ estate. “I’m meeting friends, Bertie. You needn’t worry about me. Do you think I might visit with Thomas again?”
Bertie nodded eagerly. “You’ll do him good. He’s been moping around, calling himself a gudgeon, and not much interested in getting well. Shall I call for you sometime? Where are you staying?”
Deftly avoiding answering, Cassandra held out her hand in farewell. “I’ll send a note around, shall I? Thank you for being so forgiving, Bertie. I think I would have hated me in your place.”
Red-faced, Bertie shrugged. “It ain’t your fault, Cass. Duncan never should have let you marry a rum one like Rupert. Sure you don’t need an escort? It ain’t right wandering these fields alone.”
“Oh, but I’m a married woman now, and this is my home, after all. I’ll come to no harm. Good day, Bertie, and thank you.”
She set off down the overgrown drive, leaving Bertie no opportunity to protest further. The rhododendrons had gone wild and towered well over her head. She was soon out of sight of the road.
When she was certain she was no longer observed, Cassandra allowed her shoulders to slump. It had been an emotionally draining day.
She hadn’t wanted Merrick to despise her. And she certainly didn’t deserve Thomas’ adulation. All she wanted was a few good friends she could talk to, someone to understand her predicament, someone to fill her loneliness. Would she never be allowed that small luxury?
Not as things stood now. Breaking off a dead twig from an overhanging bush, Cassandra tried to gather the strength to face the ruin that was now her home. She could never bring her mother out here, nor could she ever go to London to see her again.
She crumbled the twig and dragged her hand along the scraggly plants as she approached the house. Peggy, her father’s former mistress, had explained about annulments, sort of. She had said a man and woman could marry and not go to bed together and the church would say they were never married if they wrote a petition for annulment.
That was what she had wanted Rupert to do. Surely those few minutes in Rupert’s bed didn’t make her a wife. How did one go about petitioning for an annulment?
A solicitor would have to be hired, obviously, and she had no money for such. She had more freedom as a married woman anyway. And Duncan couldn’t try to trade her off to someone else.
It was better to be lonely than miserable.
Chapter 12
“We can’t keep going to the butcher or these coins won’t last till harvest. Can’t you hunt something?” Lotta dawdled over her second cup of tea while regarding the blackened fireplace with distaste.
Across from her, Jacob lifted his cup with the same elegance as his betters. “Even if I could nab a squirrel or hare, would you know what to do with it?”
Ignoring the implied scorn, Lotta turned a grin to her lover. “Not a bit. A pampered life, I lead. When will you keep me in the style to which I’m accustomed?”
His lean face broke into a smile. “There’s many a way to do it. We could do it honestly and seek employment elsewhere.”
“And leave my lady here alone? Never. We look after each other, we do. Besides, no one else would look kindly on our pairing off, would they now? Soon’s I had a bun in
the oven, off I’d be in the streets. No thankee, sir. I’ll stay here.”
Jacob glared at her. “You told me you knew how to prevent that sort of thing. Don’t neither of us need that kind of trouble right now.”
Lotta bent forward to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her breasts beneath her loose blouse. “Ain’t any of us perfect. We all get caught sometime. Now, what are your other suggestions for making a few coins?”
Eyeing the view, Jacob gave the matter some thought. “Selling information always works well, but the only one with any coins to buy is our high-and-mighty earl. He’d not take kindly to paying for information. The marquess hasn’t got a ha’pence to spare. There’s always Rupert. He might be willing to spare some of the ready to know where his wife is, but that rather defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”
Lotta sat up and adjusted her bodice with a glare. “You bloody well better believe it. That bedlamite would have our arses for helping my lady to escape. And she wouldn’t be left in any condition to protect us. Come up with a better one than that, my genius.”
Jacob shrugged. “Your lady gambles well, didn’t you tell me?”
Hearing a footstep down the hall, Lotta signaled for silence and began to speak loudly. “You’ll have to steal a hen, Jacob. We can’t spend any more at the butcher. His prices are too dear.”
Cassandra stopped in the doorway to take in this domestic scene. Lotta should have been baking bread, and Jacob had promised to look for the leak in her bedroom roof. But their discussion set her thoughts on a different path.
“You can’t be stealing our neighbor’s hens. We’ll raise our own if need be,” she told them. “Surely it can’t be too difficult a matter.”
Lotta carried her dishes to the washbasin. “That won’t help us none tonight. What are you planning on living on until then?”
Cassandra’s face lit with a blaze of remembrance. “Fish! We can have fish. There’s a pond the next field over stocked full of them.”
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