A half-hour later they were both more tousled than before, but any tension between them had disappeared. Cassandra lay against Wyatt’s shoulder, her eyes closed dreamily as his long fingers caressed her breasts.
The knock on the bedroom door startled them back to the moment. Cassandra threw him a panicky look, but Wyatt merely pulled the sheet up over her nakedness and ordered the maid to enter.
Lotta failed to conceal her smirk as she came in with a tray of tea and toast and silently laid it on the bedside table.
“Have you any coffee, Lotta? I prefer coffee in the mornings.” Wyatt sat back against the pillows.
“I’ll buy some in the village this morning, my lord.” Lotta bobbed a beaming curtsy and departed, softly closing the door behind her.
Cassandra turned her flaming cheeks in Wyatt’s direction. “That was uncalled for, my lord,” she remonstrated. “Lotta has no idea how to brew coffee, we have no pot to brew it in, and we cannot afford the extravagance. And if you offer to pay for it, I shall kick you from this bed.”
Wyatt watched her with amusement, waited until she was done, then pressed a kiss to her breast before swinging his legs out from beneath the covers and reaching for his discarded shirt.
“You will have to grow accustomed to it, my love. If we are going to shed all propriety and meet the world as lovers, then we may as well take advantage of the comforts of such a situation. I will provide the funds for what I need to feel at home. I do not expect you to shoulder the burden.”
Cassandra heard his calm words with suspicion, but she was distracted by the sight of his bold masculine nakedness in her heretofore feminine room. Even in undress, he was very much the earl when he spoke like that.
“You will tell the world that we are lovers?” she asked a trifle breathlessly.
“I don’t need to.” Wyatt reached for his discarded trousers. “My servants will have already discovered that I did not sleep in my bed. They will begin whispering among themselves. Someone will mention that your servants were seen buying coffee in the village. The dressmaker will remember the gown I ordered for you. The whispers will grow louder. It will not take long before the whole town knows of it, no matter how discreet we may try to be.”
As usual, Cassandra hadn’t thought of that. She was so used to keeping her own company that she had managed to shut out the gossip.
Wyatt wanted to take the wounded look from her eyes, but he had to be ruthless for her own good. She had to be made to see the consequences of what they did. It was the only way to persuade her to do what was right.
“I will take you to London, if you prefer, Cass. These things are more acceptable there. A vast amount of society will still receive you. You are a married woman, after all. It is done all the time.”
Cassandra shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t want to live in London. I want to live here. This is my home. I’ll not be driven away from it again.”
She was ignoring the consequences again. Merrick sat on the bed beside her and tilted her chin upward. “Do you wish me to stay away? You have only to say the word.”
Her aquamarine eyes gleamed in a manner that he was beginning to recognize as confusion.
“I don’t need anyone else, just you,” she said with hesitation. “Will it be very hard for you? I don’t wish to make you an outcast.”
That wasn’t quite the reply he wanted, but Wyatt could see it would take time before she realized their position. In the meantime, he would have his solicitors locate Rupert and begin drawing up the papers necessary for an annulment. He would have them ready for signatures when the reality finally sank in.
“I will not be outcast by any but my mother. There are different rules for men. I might lose my halo” —he smiled bleakly at this reference to his reputation— “but I will not be blamed for taking a mistress. You, I fear, are the one who will suffer. I would keep you from that if I could.”
Cassandra pulled away from his protective hold. “I cannot possibly suffer any more than I have. My reputation will not keep workers from my field if they think they can earn good coin from it. That is my only concern.”
Wyatt did not want to contemplate what kind of life she must have lived to make such a statement. His anger at her family kindled, but he merely kissed her brow and stood up. “I will do what I can to keep the gossip at a minimum for as long as possible. Thomas would be disappointed if you no longer came to visit.”
That sank in. He could see the horror slowly write itself across her expressive face.
“Shall I send Bertie by this afternoon to take you visiting? It would be better if we were not seen so much together in public.”
Cassandra nodded helplessly. She didn’t want to spend the afternoon with Bertie. She wanted to be beside Merrick, laughing at his jests, holding his hand, sharing his life, but she was the one who had denied them that fate. She could only agree to his commonsensical suggestions now.
After Wyatt left, she threw herself into her work with determination. She had everything she wanted, more than she asked for. When Lotta returned from the village with much more than the coffee and pot, she did not ask where the money had come from. Pride no longer had a place in her life.
Thomas was dressed and sitting in the salon when Cassandra arrived that afternoon. She ran to kiss his freshly shaved cheek. He winced when he lifted his arm to her, but the schoolboy grin on his open face was all she could ask. He would be better soon and wouldn’t need her. It wouldn’t matter so much when she was barred from polite society.
As had become their custom, Bertie and whichever of the large Scheffing family happened to wander in took out the cards and indulged in a madcap game that involved more cheating than rules. In some way, Cassandra hoped she was teaching Thomas not to be quite so gullible.
She drew a card from the bottom of the deck, added it to her hand, and proudly spread it on the table. “I win. You now owe me half a million pounds, two estates, and three horses. Shall we wager for a fourth horse and a carriage?”
“Use some of the half-million pounds to buy them, my lady.” The amused male voice in the doorway caused Cassandra’s heart to leap.
In his dove-gray swallowtail and wine-colored vest with just the simple fold of white cloth at his throat, Merrick was so incredibly proper and elegant that she could scarcely believe he was the same man whose tousled hair had rested on her pillow that morning. Her breath caught, and the way he stared at her, she knew that he felt her constraint.
His gaze studied the green morning gown that she wore interchangeably with the sprigged muslin, but she felt no condemnation at her lack of wardrobe. In fact, she very much feared he had just made a mental note to buy her more gowns.
“I need the half-million pounds for principal so I might live off the interest, my lord,” she replied with as much insouciance as she could muster. She felt as if everyone in the room stared at them, but she knew they did not. Bertie was ringing for refreshments and Thomas was happily shuffling the cards in preparation for another game.
“Do you have any idea how much interest that would be?” Openly laughing now, Wyatt entered the room, shook Bertie’s hand, and cuffed Thomas when offered the deck of cards.
“Just sufficient to keep me in gowns, I’m certain. I daresay I’ll need another half-million to provide carriages and servants and suchlike. Have you come to gamble away your wealth, my lord?”
“I have come to save the Scheffings from bankruptcy and to deliver a surprise.” Merrick winked at Thomas as the sound of female voices carried up the stairwell. “Your sister could no longer bear to remain in hiding and not read you a proper lecture. Prepare yourself.”
Before Cassandra could piece this together, Mrs. Scheffing and a lovely but heavily pregnant woman joined them. The blond curls and wide cheekbones bespoke still another family member, and she realized this was the Christa she had not seen since childhood. Cassandra stared with fascination as the newcomer awkwardly advanced across the room, her light muslin emp
hasizing rather than concealing her condition.
“Cards! I cannot believe it of you, Thomas! Gambling, and you just out of sickbed. And corrupting gentle females at the same time. For shame.” She bent and placed an affectionate peck on her brother’s brow. “Please, do not attempt to rise because of me. I cannot sit and you cannot stand. A sad pair we make.”
She turned a questioning gaze to Cassandra, but before Thomas could make the introductions, her face lit with recognition. “Lady Cass! My goodness, you have grown up. I can remember you only as a little girl in braids.”
The conversation became general then, and feeling as if she were an outsider, Cassandra glanced to Merrick for rescue.
Wyatt had watched Cassandra’s wide-eyed curiosity at Christa’s entrance, but he had thought it only her astonishment that a lady would appear in public when so heavily with child. He began to doubt that belief later when they were in the curricle and Cassandra frowned in puzzlement.
“Christa seems excessively polite, does she not? It is odd that she is so very much larger than her mother. I do not remember her as being that way.”
The questioning way she said it and the knowledge that Cass was not given to rude remarks about other people’s appearances prevented Wyatt from mistaking her words. That led to another interpretation, and Wyatt shot his companion an incredulous look.
Sometimes it was very easy to forget how young Cassandra actually was. Married at eighteen, never out in society, and her only company being her father’s drunken cronies, she had no access to the polite world of gentlewomen. Wyatt knew very little of her mother, but he suspected Lady Eddings had communicated little more than complaints to her daughter.
It was very possible that Cassandra had never had more than a glimpse of a pregnant woman in her life. She was intelligent enough to figure it out, but Wyatt shuddered deep down in his soul as he contemplated the depth of her ignorance. Could she possibly not know...?
Gathering his wits, Wyatt tried to explain the facts of life. He wasn’t at all certain where to begin, particularly in light of their current situation.
Hesitantly he said, “After the baby is born, she will be her normal size again. I believe it is expected any day now.”
As if discerning his reluctance to speak, Cassandra smiled brightly. “Of course, how foolish of me. See how lovely the bluebells are today. It’s a pity they do not make good bouquets. Wouldn’t they look lovely on the kitchen table?”
He was making a great mistake in ignoring the subject, but Wyatt nodded with relief and allowed her to carry off the conversation.
He didn’t let himself consider the fact that she owned no animals and no farmer in his right mind would allow a Lady Cassandra into his barn or stable. Someone would explain babies to her soon enough.
Chapter 19
Cassandra sang to herself as she arranged the bouquet of roses in the lovely porcelain vase Merrick had brought for her last evening. She really ought to refuse his gifts, but when he insisted he was accustomed to flowers on his breakfast table, she hadn’t been able to refuse him.
Not any more than she had been able to refuse the lovely peach satin robe or the walking dress or the riding habit or any of the other extravagant gifts that arrived in so many unexpected ways these past weeks. Coaches from London pulled up at her door to spill trunks of clothing with no name attached. Barefoot boys pulling wooden carts unloaded crates of delicate china. Merrick always evinced surprise at their arrival, then agreed she really ought to keep them since she didn’t know to whom to return them, and he did prefer seeing her in satin and silk and was accustomed to eating from china.
He was becoming a worse liar than she, but since they both knew he was lying, it didn’t seem so much of a sin. Nothing he did seemed a sin. Remembering what the proper earl had done to her in bed just the night before, Cassandra felt her cheeks blaze with color, but she welcomed the memory.
The sound of a horse trotting up the drive brought a flush of expectancy. Wyatt never visited during the day, but it might be another gift.
The knock sounded at the door, and she hesitated. Jacob had gone into the village and Lotta had taken lunch to the workers in the field. It wasn’t much of a lunch, admittedly, but they always seemed grateful for whatever was given. It looked as if they might have a crop, after all. Wiping her hands on a towel, Cassandra hurried to answer the door herself.
She stared in astonishment at the visitor and briefly considered slamming the door in his face. As if anticipating her thought, Duncan caught the door and strode across the threshold.
“You are looking well, Cass.” He nodded curtly and gazed around at the orderly cottage. A polished walnut table gleamed on one side of the hall, and a satin settee and a lamp hung with crystal on the other side. His gaze returned to her expensive French muslin, and he frowned.
“I see you are doing well for yourself, little sis. Rupert has been a generous husband. Are you not going to invite me in?”
“You are already in,” she answered bluntly. Then, unbending, she led the way to the front parlor.
Merrick had insisted the pieces of furniture he had sent down from the house had been collecting dust in the attics, and they were, indeed, not of the most recent fashion, but they were of too expensive a quality to be condemned to attics. Perhaps earls lived differently. She was in no position to know.
She gestured at the French side chair beside the window. “Have a seat and I will fetch some lemonade. I fear we do not stock brandy,” she said.
Duncan made a face at this choice of refreshment but offered no objection as she hurried off to the kitchen.
Cass knew that while she was gone, he was mentally calculating the cost of the antique settee and chair, and the aging Persian carpet. Duncan always needed money.
By the time she returned, he was sitting amiably in the chair, swinging his crossed leg, and smiling to himself.
Not fooled by his pleasant expression, Cassandra set the tray down beside him and without further ado spread her skirt across the settee and came to the point. “Why are you here, Duncan? Has London become too hot for you?”
He continued to smile. “I’m tolerably well, thank you. Do you not wish to ask after our esteemed parent?”
No, she didn’t. She had wanted to bring her mother to the country where she might grow healthy again, but she could not let her mother know that she had become Merrick’s mistress. “How is Mother? I trust she is well?”
“Tolerable, as usual. She would do well here, I venture to say. Shall I bring her for a visit the next time I come?”
A visit would be perfect. Cassandra’s eyes lit for a brief moment; then suspicion replaced joy. “Why would you do that? Why are you here at all, Duncan? I thought you detested the countryside.”
“So I do.” He sipped at the sour drink and winced at the taste. “I just wished to check and see how my little sister fared. I’ve heard rumors for weeks now, but I knew you were one to land on your feet. And so you have, it seems.”
“No thanks to you,” Cassandra responded sweetly. Under the pretense of lounging idly on the settee and sipping on her drink, she glanced out the window, praying for some glimpse of Lotta or Jacob. She disliked being along with Duncan. His temper was uncertain at best. The window revealed only the now neatly trimmed drive. She turned back to observe her half-brother.
He looked thinner, somehow, and not nearly so terrifying as she had once thought him. He was still quite large, shorter than Merrick perhaps, but broader through the shoulders. Of course, the only work Duncan’s shoulders had ever known was an occasional idle bout at Gentleman Jackson’s, but she did not underestimate his strength. She just didn’t fear him as she once had.
“Have you come to stay awhile?” she asked.
“No longer than it takes to see that you are comfortable. I had not expected Rupert to provide for you so well, under the circumstances. How did you do it?”
They trod dangerous ground here, and Cassandra smiled to hide
her uneasiness. Merrick had said Duncan was paying the rent. She had assumed that was how her brother had found her. But Merrick had developed the bad habit of lying to get his way, and she had developed the equally reprehensible habit of letting him get away with it. She very much suspected she was about to get caught in the web of deceit.
She shrugged. “Rupert had nothing to do with it. The cottage was in a sad state of neglect and I offered to take care of it. The neighbors have been all that is kind in helping me.”
“You always were a shameless baggage, Cass. Don’t bother giving me your Spanish coin, for you know I don’t buy it.” Duncan set his glass aside and rose to pace the room. “There’s money here, and don’t make me think our righteous country-bumpkin neighbors have given it. Even Merrick wouldn’t lower himself to helping a wanton wife who deserts her husband and instigates duels. You have somehow found your way into Rupert’s pockets. Tell me how, Cass.”
Cassandra felt the danger in him but didn’t know its direction. Thankfully, he did not even consider Merrick. She lifted her chin and met Duncan’s gaze squarely. “Believe what you wish, brother. I cannot tell you more than I know.”
A dangerous gleam leapt to Duncan’s eyes. “Fine, keep your little secrets, Cass. I have other plans. Actually, you have done us both a favor by running off. Rupert would have made me beg for every penny, but you will not, will you, Cass? Once we have his wealth, we can be a happy family again, maybe even rebuild the old mausoleum so you and Mother can live happily content in the country as you prefer. Wouldn’t you like that?”
“What are you talking about, Duncan? I have no wealth, and I see no chance of Rupert sharing his. What maggot do you have in your head now?”
Duncan shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Rupert is something of a monster, I have found out. He enjoys killing. He enjoys women too, so I never thought he would harm you, but I can see that he might be a danger to you. You have not exactly got an obedient spirit, Cass.”
Dash of Enchantment Page 18
