By the time the afternoon ended, the entire household understood that the new regime had a wholly different vision of propriety than the old. The head gardener nearly fainted at the sight of a horde of little urchins scavenging his prized cherry trees. The cook, a more prosaic lady with children of her own, merely shook her head in bemusement as the kitchen filled with dirty gremlins carrying pails of ripe and unripe cherries.
The new countess herself looked disheveled and windblown as she led the grubby crew through the enormous kitchens to a basin, where she ordered small hands to be washed. She failed to mention faces, and juice-smeared mouths grinned when she had to fetch a rag and wipe them herself.
The commotion inevitably reached the ears of the dowager, who promptly sought her son in his study. Wyatt lifted his brows at his mother’s incoherent tirade, and shrugging, followed her through the corridors to the kitchens he seldom saw.
As the dowager glared at the scene, Wyatt halted in the doorway to absorb the magnificence of this chaos. He beamed at the sight of his brilliant sun goddess with flour dotting her nose and cherry juice smeared across her cheek. The neat pile of tresses he had noted with approval at the breakfast table now hung in tattered wisps about her face and throat, and occasionally she brushed at them, accounting for the interesting pattern of food across her face.
She sang some foolish song he greatly suspected she had invented on the spot, since it involved cherries and cherry pies, but the children chanted the refrain with delight. His brows lifted even higher at the sight of a half-dozen village urchins patting at rounds of dough and covering themselves and half the kitchen in flour. His pulse palpitated at the thought of the tantrums the temperamental staff had thrown in the past, but they were laughing and singing and nudging each other while pretending he wasn’t there.
He didn’t have to be told that his cherry trees had been stripped, that the cherry jam he so enjoyed would be in short supply this year, and that the cherry tarts meant for his table would be filling the bellies of these urchins. He ought to raise a fearful scold or Cassandra would think she was entitled to turn his household into an uproar at every whim and fancy.
But as he watched her flute the pie crust, using the pudgy little fingers of the smallest tot, he could not bear to interrupt. He could not remember the last time he had seen a child run riot through the household, nor heard the sound of joyous laughter. He was just realizing what his orderly life had been missing.
His mother continued to glare at him, but Wyatt had a notion that a silly grin was spreading across his face.
“Wyatt! Do not stand there like a blithering idiot! We’ll have no dinner tonight if this continues. Make them stop this commotion at once!”
The dowager’s voice carried. Cassandra glanced up and her lips curved in a genuine smile of delight, illuminating the entire kitchen. The children instantly silenced in awe at sight of the grand earl himself.
“I’m not certain I’ve quite got that melody.” Wyatt advanced into the now quiet kitchen, humming. “How did it go? ‘Cherries, lovely cherries, sweeter than sugar in the summertime’?” He sang the refrain he had heard earlier.
Cassandra’s smile grew even brighter as she joined him. The children laughed when she plopped a fat fruit into the earl’s mouth before he could finish the song, and juice dribbled down his chin before he could swallow it.
When Wyatt wreaked revenge by kissing Cassandra’s cheek with his juicy mouth, the dowager gave a squeak of fury and departed in a huff. No one noticed or cared.
The fact that his dinners weren’t served on time, that his mother suffered the megrims daily, and that the neighbors stared at him as if he were gone mad did not diminish Wyatt’s enjoyment of Cassandra’s vibrant presence. She had the gardeners in a snit, the grooms in shock, and the kitchen in song.
Lotta and Jacob had appointed themselves lady’s maid and valet respectively, and upon occasion usurped the duties of head housekeeper and butler, causing these worthies to threaten to give notice. Merrick heard their complaints and referred them to Cassandra, who cajoled them with promises he didn’t care to investigate. He rather suspected that the wages of his staff were about to double, and he would be supporting them all into doddering old age, but he was too happy to care.
When his mother caught him singing one of Cassandra’s nonsense songs as he threw the morning’s post upon the fire, the dowager held her hand to her heart and stared at him as if he had truly taken leave of his senses.
“What has come over you, Wyatt?” she demanded when she gained her breath. “You go about as if you were a heedless child. You cannot discard letters as if they are of no importance. You have always answered your correspondence. What has she done to you?”
Wyatt flipped another invitation into the growing pyre as he considered his mother’s question. True, he was being irresponsible by ignoring his social obligations. And she was right, he was behaving like a child, singing silly songs and dreaming silly dreams and generally enjoying himself rather than facing the consequences of what he had done.
But as he considered what he had done, a happy grin formed. He had found a woman who made him want to sing. He had started a child after all these lonely years of craving one. He had kidnapped a wife, bedded a goddess, and eradicated the desperate loneliness of these cold halls. He knew very well what Cassandra had done to him. “She made me love her, Mother. Astonishing, wouldn’t you say?”
And singing to himself, the elegant and proper Earl of Merrick went in search of his hoyden mistress.
~*~
“Wyatt, you must stop her at once!”
Wyatt choked and nearly strangled on his cravat as the bedroom door slammed open. Jacob efficiently removed the mangled linen but remained out of the line of fire as the earl swung around to face his furious wife.
“Normal people knock before they enter,” he said. It was obvious Cassandra had not even begun to dress for dinner, and he had invited the Scheffings tonight.
Irate, she shoved a tumbling lock of hair from her face. “Your mother has ordered all my flower arrangements thrown out before the guests arrive. You know I have not come to you with complaints before, but I will not have this! I have worked so hard to make these rooms look lived in, and she is ordering it all thrown out! I will not have it, Wyatt!”
He thought she might follow this tirade by stamping her foot, but she apparently checked the impulse to do so. Stormy blue eyes awaited his reaction, and Wyatt held out his hand for his cravat. He had known Cassandra and his mother would never get on. He was aware of the many altercations that had taken place this past week and more. He knew of only one solution to end them, but he hated to make that decision unless forced.
“Can we not have this argument later, Cass?” He lifted his chin and tried to arrange the folds of linen into some respectability, but he was unaccustomed to having an audience. “The Scheffings will arrive shortly.”
Cassandra came across the room and brushed his fingers aside, assembling the linen with nimble fingers. “Did you not have a valet before Jacob arrived?” she inquired.
“Mother dismissed him for insubordination.” Wyatt grinned at the fierce look on her face. “I gave him good references and found him a new position, so don’t look at me like that. You will just have to learn that she is accustomed to having things her own way.”
Cassandra patted the linen in place and turned to Jacob. “You are not dismissed unless I say you are, Jacob, is that understood?”
Wyatt caught her by the back of the neck. “Have I nothing to say in the matter?”
Crossly she walked away from his hold. “No. If your mother told you to dismiss him, you would. You are much too nice. I shall go downstairs and tell her I’ll set fire to her bed hangings one night when she’s asleep if she touches one petal of those flowers.”
She stormed out. When Jacob turned a fearful look to see how his employer was taking this tantrum, he stared in wonder as the earl’s shoulders shook in mirth.
Jacob looked properly horrified but held his tongue. If anyone knew the answer to that question, it would be Lotta.
Merrick noted the flowers were still standing when he arrived downstairs to greet his guests. Cassandra had an eye for color, but the arrangements reflected her rather capricious habits. Wildflowers mingled with cultivated roses and shrubbery to form airy but far-from-formal bouquets. The petals from one shrub were already making a snowfall on the polished foyer table. At one time, he would have ordered it removed. Now he rather approved of the splash of color.
Cassandra ran down to join him just as their guests arrived. She looked stunning in the shimmering pale green lutestring gown he had ordered for her. With her hair pulled severely back, she looked older, more mature, and not in the least rattled from the haste with which she must have dressed.
The glance she sent him was still cold, but strangely enough, Wyatt felt warm inside. Had any other woman looked at him like that, he would have shied away from her company forevermore. With Cassandra, he was confident the spat would be settled in his bed a few hours hence. He had to turn his concentration on his guests and away from his “wife” to cool his stirring ardor.
The dowager did not come down to dinner. When Wyatt whispered a question in Cassandra’s ear, she answered blithely, “She has locked herself in her room and refused to emerge. Shall I have dinner sent up to her?”
Wyatt shook his head and sought out the quiet, pleasant Mrs. Scheffing. He could very well have made a major mistake in assuming Cassandra could be tamed to polite society. Remembering the disastrous episodes of Hampton Court, he would make certain not to suggest billiards after dinner.
Still, as he accepted congratulations on his marriage and watched Cassandra charm the stout squire, Merrick felt the changes in himself. He had only to recognize that the woman sitting in the place of honor as his wife was actually his mistress, to realize he had come a long way from the staid man he once had been.
Cassandra glanced up and caught his eye, and her worried frown sent a sharp pang through his midsection. She had changed too. For all her heedless ways, she had developed a conscience and a concern for others—most others, he amended, his mother excluded.
Later that night, she entered his room without knocking, as usual. Wyatt gave a nod and sent Jacob away. As he proceeded to remove his waistcoat, Wyatt debated giving her the scold she deserved, but he couldn’t do it. Her eyes seemed enormous in her pale face, and the clinging of her frail nightrail to her slender figure reminded him of the child she carried, a child she hadn’t wanted or asked for. He owed her much, and he lifted his arms in welcome and held her to his chest when she came to him.
“Are you very angry with me?” she whispered against his shirt.
“Very,” he agreed.
“Shall I go away and leave you alone?”
That question held echoes of the past and future, and Wyatt crushed her tighter. “Never. I’m tired of being alone.”
She sighed. “So am I. Hold me, Wyatt, and don’t be angry anymore. I can’t bear it.”
“No one could be angry with you for long, my sweet, most especially me.” Gently Wyatt rode his hand down to the very small curve of her abdomen. “How does Junior fare today? Does he still trouble you?”
“Only in that I have never had a stomach before.” She mocked a small pout and looked up to him. “What will you do with me when I am fat and ugly?”
“Make love to you,” he answered promptly, earning himself a kick with bare toes. When he had her firmly in his hold again, he asked with curiosity, “Did you think Christa fat and ugly?”
“Just fat.” Cassandra squirmed in his embrace. “She looked awfully uncomfortable. How will I be able to ride when I get like that?”
Wyatt picked her up and threw her on the bed, falling down beside her and holding her pinned when she tried to roll away. He gazed sternly down into her flushed face. “You will not, my lady, so you might as well begin practicing temperance now. No more wild gallops across the meadow like the one today. Understood?”
Cassandra lifted a hand to stroke his hair. “The child is important to you, isn’t it?”
He wanted to say, “Not as important as you,” but she owned too much of him already. He would wait until he was certain his feelings were returned. He spread his hand over the nearly invisible thickening of her waist. “I want this child very much, Cassandra. I hope I have not asked too much of you.”
“No more than you have asked of yourself, my lord.” She pulled his head down to meet her kiss.
Chapter 25
The warning that Rupert had returned from France came unexpectedly a week later.
Wyatt had hoped to have the annulment papers signed before Rupert discovered that he had not actually murdered Thomas.
He stared at the note in his hand, then crumpled and flung it at the brass container beside his desk. His solicitors had assured him the annulment could be effected without Rupert’s cooperation, but that meant Cass filing the petition. He wasn’t at all certain he would receive any more cooperation from her than from Rupert.
But the fact that Rupert had returned to London without signing the papers meant he was prepared to fight for his wife. That did not bode well at all.
Wyatt paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was not a coward, but there had been no room in his life for the idle pursuits of other young gentlemen. While his peers were playing at fisticuffs and fencing, he had been learning the operations of his estates here in Kent, others in Sussex, and in the north. He had even inherited a small competence in Scotland. Although he had good managers, they were only as good as the supervision they received.
At the age of twelve, when he had come into his inheritance, and even at twenty, when he had taken control of it, he had not had a minute to spare beyond the supervision of these responsibilities. He could challenge Rupert to a duel of adding figures or counting cows, but he greatly suspected that wouldn’t settle the matter.
The thought of losing Cassandra and the child she carried to that brutal bastard could not be borne. He would have to remove her somewhere safe while he dealt with the problem. Perhaps now that she knew she carried a child, she could be more easily persuaded to begin annulment proceedings.
But then he would have to tell her that Rupert was back, and she might get another one of her notions to talk to him herself. She might take it in her head to run away and hide, and this time he wouldn’t be so lucky as to find her. He still didn’t know why she had left him last time. If it was that nonsense about being a bastard, perhaps he had settled that fear, and she would be all right. And then again, perhaps not. Who knew?
Wyatt heard the uproar in the downstairs hall as a distant roar, but he ignored it. Cassandra was as easily capable of quelling a riot as causing it. He seldom found it necessary to intervene. Even his mother had given up any hope of his assistance. The running argument with Cassandra had become part of the dowager’s routine. She certainly couldn’t complain of boredom any longer.
Contemplating all the changes Cassandra had brought into his life ever since she had plummeted into his arms those many months ago, Merrick despaired at the thought of losing her. He couldn’t go back to deadly dull dinners of discussing the length the grass should be allowed to grow in the lawn. He couldn’t imagine climbing into his bed without Cassandra there warming the sheets for him. Life without her laughter and song, or even her tempest and fury, would not be a life at all.
So, somehow, he would have to learn to manage Cassandra and her mismanaged life as well as he did his estate. Obtaining an annulment and keeping Rupert at bay would be his first aim. He had used persuasion and brute force without any luck. The next step was trickery.
That thought came to Wyatt like a lightning bolt. Of course! Rupert and Duncan and their i
lk swindled their way through life. Those were the only terms they knew. So he would have to beat them on their own terms. He wasn’t at all certain that he knew the rules, but if he tried to think like Cassandra...
Jacob knocked at his open study door, and Wyatt glanced up in surprise. The lanky ex-soldier knew his place and had never disturbed his privacy. As a former servant of Rupert’s and a loyal supporter of Cassandra, his credentials were open to question, but Wyatt had found his service exemplary. He gestured for the man to enter.
“I wish to offer my resignation, my lord, effective immediately.”
Surmising this had something to do with the uproar below, Wyatt sat on the edge of his desk and eyed the stoic valet with impatience. “Might I ask why?”
Jacob reddened around the ears. “Lotta and I work together, my lord. That’s understood between us. If she is no longer welcome here, I must go with her.”
“Cassandra dismissed Lotta?” Wyatt didn’t try to hide his incredulity. The chit was like no lady’s maid he had ever known. Lotta was a wanton piece of goods if he had ever seen one. But the bonds between maid and mistress were strong.
“No, my lord. Lady Merrick did.”
Wyatt nodded in understanding. Cass wouldn’t come to him with this latest argument, and Jacob feared it was one she would lose. The charge must be serious indeed. He sent the man a piercing look. “For what reasons?”
The red deepened. “She’s with child, my lord.”
Wyatt choked back a laugh at the expression on the valet’s normally impassive features. “Yours, I assume?” At Jacob’s nod, he continued conversationally, “Do you mean to marry her?”
The valet visibly squirmed, then nodded. “If it comes to that, my lord.”
This was rich. He wished Cassandra were here to appreciate it with him. On second thought, perhaps it was better that she was not. Thinking quickly, Wyatt said, “I’d recommend it. How would you and Lotta like to come with me to London?”
Dash of Enchantment Page 23
