Chasing Cassandra

by Kleypas, Lisa

  “I don’t think so. Ransom went up to have a talk with him. In his usual cryptic fashion, Ransom writes that Lambert is now ‘out of the country.’ ”

  “What the devil does that mean?” Tom asked curtly.

  “Who knows? It’s Ransom. It could mean Lambert’s fled to France, or he’s been shanghaied, or … I’m afraid to speculate. I’ll try to get more information out of Ransom, but that’s like pulling teeth from a crocodile. The point is, Lambert won’t be bothering anyone for a long while.” West pushed away from the door frame. “I’ll leave the two of you to your negotiating. If that’s what we’re calling it.”

  3:00 P.M.

  “BUT YOU’LL HAVE TO spend time with the children,” Cassandra insisted. “They’ll need your influence.”

  “My influence is the last thing they’ll need, unless you’re planning to raise a pack of immoral little devils.”

  She took the pencil and began a subsection. “At the very least, you’ll have to participate in family time in the parlor every night after dinner, outings on Sundays, and then there are birthdays, holiday festivities—”

  “I don’t mind older children, who can be threatened with Scottish boarding schools,” Tom said. “It’s the younger ones, who cry and scream and totter from one catastrophe to another. They’re nerve-wracking and tedious at the same time.”

  “It’s different when it’s your own children.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Tom settled back in his chair, looking vaguely surly. “I’ll go along with whatever you think is appropriate, but don’t call on me to discipline them. I’m not going to whip or thrash them, even if it’s for their own good.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” Cassandra said hastily. “There are other ways to teach right from wrong.”

  “Good. Life doles out enough inevitable pain for each of us—my children won’t need extra helpings from me.”

  She smiled at him. “I think you’ll make a fine father.”

  His mouth twisted. “The only part I’m looking forward to is their conception.”

  4:00 P.M.

  “WHY THE DEVIL DO we have to put Bazzle in the contract?”

  “I’ve worried about him ever since the day I met him at the clinic,” Cassandra said. “I want to find him and take him out of the dangerous situation he’s living in.”

  “You won’t have to look far,” Tom said sardonically, “since he’s at my house.”

  “What?” she asked, both incredulous and relieved. “You took him in after all?”

  “I sent him back that day,” Tom admitted, “and as you predicted, there was a repeat infestation soon thereafter. I realized having him become part of the household was cheaper and more convenient than hauling him back to Dr. Gibson’s clinic every week.”

  “How is he?” Cassandra asked eagerly. “What kind of schedule have you arranged for him? Have you found a tutor or school for him? I’m sure there hasn’t been time to decorate his room yet, but I—”

  “No. You misunderstand. I didn’t take him in as a ward, he’s one of the household staff.”

  Cassandra quieted, some of her excitement fading. “Who looks after him?”

  “No one needs to look after him. As I understand it, the housekeeper won’t let him come to the dinner table unless he’s clean, so he’ll soon learn to overcome his scruples about bathing. With decent food and regular sleep, I expect he’ll be much healthier.” Tom smiled briefly. “Problem solved. Now, on to the next issue.”

  “Are there other children for him to play with?”

  “No, I don’t usually hire children—I made an exception for Bazzle.”

  “What does he do all day?”

  “So far, he’s come to the office with me in the mornings to sweep and do odd jobs, and then I send him home in a cab.”

  “By himself?”

  Tom looked at her sardonically. “He’s navigated some of the most dangerous areas of London by himself for years.”

  Cassandra frowned. “What does he do for the rest of the day?”

  “He’s a hall boy. He does … hall boy things.” Tom shrugged irritably. “I believe polishing shoes are among his tasks. He’s better off than he was before. Don’t make too much of this.”

  Cassandra nodded thoughtfully, shuttering her expression. For some reason, the issue of Bazzle was sensitive territory. She realized she would have to proceed with care when it came to making decisions about the child. But she was determined to have her way, even if it meant using the iron-hand-in-a-velvet-glove approach.

  “Tom,” she said, “it was wonderfully kind of you, and so very generous, to take Bazzle in as you have.”

  One corner of his mouth curled upward. “You’re laying it on with a trowel,” he said dryly. “But continue.”

  “I feel strongly that Bazzle must be taught to read. It will benefit him for the rest of his life, and it will help you for as long as he continues to work for you, in the running of errands, and so forth. The cost of his education would be minimal, and it would allow him to be in the company of other children.”

  Tom considered the points, and nodded. “Very well.”

  “Thank you.” Cassandra smiled brilliantly. “I’ll make the arrangements, once I’m able to take stock of his situation.” She hesitated before adding carefully, “There may be other adjustments I’ll want to make, for the sake of his wellbeing. However you wish to write it in the contract … I’ll require some leeway where he’s concerned.”

  He picked up the pencil and looked down at the paper. “Leeway,” he said darkly, “but not free rein. Because I’m fairly certain your concept of Bazzle’s future doesn’t match mine.”

  5:00 P.M.

  “WHAT ABOUT BELGIUM?” TOM asked. “We could go from London to Brussels in approximately seven hours.”

  “I couldn’t enjoy a honeymoon while feeling uncertain about where I’ll live afterward.”

  “We’ve already agreed to live at Hyde Park Square.”

  “I want to spend some time there for a while, and become acquainted with the house and servants. I want to nest a little. Let’s go on a proper honeymoon later in the spring or summer.”

  Tom shrugged out of his coat and loosened his necktie. The hearth fire had made the room too hot. He tossed the coat over the back of a chair and went to open a window. A welcome rush of ice-cold air cut through the stuffy atmosphere. “Cassandra, I can’t marry you and go about business as usual the next day. Newlyweds need privacy.”

  He had a point. But he looked so disgruntled, Cassandra couldn’t resist teasing. With a glance of wide-eyed innocence, she asked, “What for?”

  Tom appeared increasingly flustered as he tried to come up with an explanation.

  Cassandra waited, gnawing on the inside of her lips.

  Tom’s face changed as he saw the dance of laughter in her eyes. “I’ll show you what for,” he said, and lunged for her.

  Cassandra fled with a shriek, skirting nimbly around the table, but he was as fast as a leopard. After snatching her up with ease, he deposited her on the settee, and pounced. She giggled and twisted as the amorous male weight of him lowered over her.

  The scent of him was clean but salted with sweat, a touch of bay rum cologne sharpened with body warmth. His face was right above hers, a few locks of dark hair tumbling on his forehead. Grinning at her efforts to dislodge him, he braced his forearms on either side of her head.

  She’d never played with a man like this, and it was incredibly entertaining and fun, and the tiniest bit scary in a way that excited her. Her giggles collapsed slowly, like champagne froth, and she wriggled as if to twist away from him even though she had no intention of doing so. He countered by settling more heavily into the cradle of her hips, pressing her into the cushions. Even through the mass of her skirts, she felt the unfamiliar pressure of his arousal. The thick ridge fit perfectly against the juncture of her thighs, aligning intimately with her in a way that was both embarrassing and stirring.


  A stab of desire went through her as she realized this was how it would be … the anchoring weight of him, all hard muscle and heat … his eyes heavy-lidded and hot as he stared down at her.

  Dazedly she reached up and pulled his head to hers. A whimper of pleasure escaped her as he kissed her thoroughly, wringing sensation from her softness, licking deep. Her body welcomed him instinctively, legs spreading wider beneath her skirts. The pit of her stomach clenched as she felt his hips adjust reflexively, the hard ridge finding the mound of her sex again, nudging and settling.

  A series of rapid knocks at the doorjamb broke through the sensuous haze. Jarred by the interruption, Cassandra gasped and blinked as she looked toward the threshold.

  It was Kathleen, wearing a profoundly apologetic expression, her gaze carefully averted. “Pardon. I’m so sorry. Cassandra, dear … the maids are coming to roll in the tea carts. You’ll want to put yourself to rights, and … I’ll give you a few minutes.” She fled.

  Cassandra could barely think. Her entire body throbbed with a frustration she’d never known. She clawed a little at the satiny back of Tom’s sleeveless waistcoat, then let her arms flop weakly down to her sides.

  “This,” Tom said with a vehement glance at the doorway, “is why we need a honeymoon.”

  6:00 P.M.

  “I DIDN’T SAY NEVER. I said it’s unlikely.” Tom stood with one hand braced on the hearth mantel, staring down into the lively blaze. “It’s not really important, is it? You’re going to share a life with me, not my family.”

  “Yes, but never to meet them?” Cassandra asked in bewilderment, pacing around the library.

  “My mother has refused to see me for years—she’ll have no interest in meeting my wife.” He paused. “I could arrange to introduce you to my sisters at some point in the future.”

  “I don’t even know their names.”

  “Dorothy, Emily, and Mary. I communicate with them rarely, and when I do, they don’t tell my mother for fear of upsetting her. My youngest sister’s husband is an accountant at my engineering firm—I speak with him now and then. He seems to be a decent fellow.” After pushing away from the fireplace, Tom went to half sit, half lean against the table. “You’re never to contact anyone in my family without my knowledge—I want that in the contract. I know your intentions would be good. But the terrain is sown with land mines.”

  “I understand. But won’t you tell me what caused such a rift?” At his long hesitation, she said, “Whatever it is, I’ll take your side.”

  “What if you don’t? What if you decide I was in the wrong?”

  “Then I’ll forgive you.”

  “What if I did something unforgivable?”

  “Tell me, and we’ll find out.”

  Silence. Tom had gone to the window, bracing his hands on either side of the frame.

  Just as Cassandra thought he really wasn’t going to tell her, he spoke in a near monotone, without pause, as if the information needed to be delivered as efficiently as possible. “My father came to my offices five years ago. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the day he left me at the train station. He said he wanted to find my mother. I’d moved her to a new house, far from the rented rooms we’d once lived in. He said all the things one would expect—he was sorry for having abandoned the family, wanted another chance, and so on.

  “There were crocodile tears, of course, and much wringing of hands. He begged me to give him another chance. I felt nothing except a crawling sensation at the back of my neck. I offered him a choice: He could have my mother’s address, or I’d pay him a generous sum to disappear, and never approach her or my sisters.”

  “He chose the money,” Cassandra guessed quietly.

  “Yes. He didn’t even stop to think about it. Later, I told my mother about it. I thought she’d agree we were well rid of him. Instead, she fell apart. She was like a madwoman. The doctor had to come and sedate her. Since then, she’s regarded me as the source of all evil. My sisters were angry with me about what they saw as a betrayal, but they softened over time. Where my mother is concerned, however, there’s no forgiveness. There never will be.”

  Cassandra went to him and touched his rigid back with a gentle hand. He wouldn’t turn to face her. “She blamed you for offering the bribe, but not him for taking it?” she asked.

  “She knew I could have arranged for him to go back to her. She knew I could have supported both of them.”

  “It wouldn’t have made her happy. She would have always known deep down that he was only there to take advantage of her, and of you.”

  “She wanted him back regardless,” Tom said flatly. “I could have made that happen, but I chose not to.”

  Cassandra slid her arms around his lean midriff and rested her head against his back. “You chose to protect her from someone who’d hurt her in the past, and would undoubtedly have hurt her again. I don’t call that a betrayal.” When he didn’t react, she said even more softly, “You mustn’t blame yourself for sending him away. Honoring one’s parents doesn’t mean you have to let them tear you apart over and over. You can honor them from a distance, by trying to be ‘a light unto the world.’”

  “I haven’t done that either,” she heard him say bitterly.

  “Now you’re being contrary,” she chided. “You’ve done much good for other people so far, and there’s more to do, and so you will.”

  He put a hand over hers, pressing it to the center of his chest, where his heart thumped powerfully. She felt some of the ferocious tension leave his muscles.

  “Are the negotiations almost finished?” he asked in a husky voice. “Are there any important questions left? I’ve already spent too many days of my life without you, Cassandra.”

  “One last question.” She pressed her cheek against the smooth, satiny back of his waistcoat. “What is your position on a Christmas wedding?”

  Tom went very still, then inhaled deeply and let out a sigh of relief. Keeping possession of her hand, he reached into the front welt pocket of his vest. Her eyes widened as she felt him slide something on the ring finger of her left hand, a smooth, cool weight.

  Tugging her hand free of his, Cassandra looked down at an astonishing multicolored gem set in a platinum filigree of tiny diamonds. She stared at it in wonder, tilting her hand in the light. The breathtaking stone contained flashes of every imaginable color, almost as if tiny flowers had been embedded beneath the surface. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Is it an opal?”

  “It’s a new variety, discovered in Australia last year. A black opal. If it’s too unconventional for your taste, we can easily exchange it.”

  “No, I love it,” she exclaimed, beaming at him. “You may proceed with the question.”

  “Should I kneel?” He looked chagrined. “Damn it, I’m doing this in the wrong order.”

  “No, don’t kneel,” Cassandra said, feeling a bit light-headed as she realized it was really happening; her entire life was about to change. “There’s no wrong order. We make our own rules, remember?” The opal glowed with unearthly color as she lifted her hand to his jaw.

  Tom closed his eyes for a moment, as if the gentle touch devastated him. “Please marry me, Cassandra,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t know what will happen to me if you won’t.”

  “I will.” A radiant smile spread across her face. “I will.”

  His mouth came to hers, and for a long time after that, there were no more words.

  Chapter 21

  THEY MARRIED AT EVERSBY PRIORY, in a private family ceremony. As it turned out, the Christmas Day wedding suited Tom’s tastes perfectly. Instead of masses of flowers thickening the air with heavy perfume, the house and chapel were decorated with fresh boughs of evergreen: balsam, holly, and Scotch pine. The entire household was in a cheerful mood, and there was an abundance of good food and drink. Outside, it was gray and damp, but the house was cozy and well lit, with fires crackling in every hearth.

  Unfortunately, not long before the te
n o’clock ceremony was to begin, a crack of thunder signaled an approaching storm. As the ancient chapel was detached from the house, the bridal party and family members would have to walk through the rain to reach it.

  Winterborne, who’d agreed to act as Tom’s best man, went out to have a look at the chapel and returned to the library, where Tom waited with Ethan Ransom, St. Vincent, and Devon. The women had gone upstairs to keep Cassandra company as she readied herself for the ceremony.

  “It’s about to rain forks and knives,” Winterborne reported, water drops glittering on his hair and the shoulders of his coat. He reached for a glass of champagne from a silver tray on the table, and raised it in Tom’s direction. “Good luck it is, for the wedding day.”

  “Why is that, exactly?” Tom asked, disgruntled.

  “A wet knot is harder to untie,” Winterborne said. “The marriage bond will be tight and long lasting.”

  Ethan Ransom volunteered, “Mam always said rain on a wedding day washed away the sadness of the past.”

  “Not only are superstitions irrational,” Tom said, “they’re inconvenient. If you believe in one, you have to believe them all, which necessitates a thousand pointless rituals.”

  Not being allowed to see the bride before the ceremony, for example. He hadn’t had so much as a glimpse of Cassandra that morning, and he was chafing to find out how she was feeling, if she’d slept well, if there was something she needed.

  West came into the room with his arms full of folded umbrellas. Justin, dressed in a little velveteen suit, was at his heels.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be upstairs in the nursery with your little brother?” St. Vincent asked his five-year-old nephew.

  “Dad needed my help,” Justin said self-importantly, bringing an umbrella to him.

  “We’re about to have a soaker,” West said briskly. “We’ll have to take everyone out to the chapel as soon as possible, before the ground turns to mud. Don’t open one of these indoors: It’s bad luck.”

  “I didn’t think you were superstitious,” Tom protested. “You believe in science.”