The Conquest of Lady Cassandra

by Madeline Hunter

  “It sounds idyllic. You must be delighted.”

  “It is exactly the life I envisioned for myself when I dreamt at night. If only Mr. Treedle—or is it Tweedly?—had shown up years ago so I did not waste so much time in town, telling myself I was having fun.”

  “It appears all it took was a man with an estate full of sheep to win you. Had the world but known, such a man might have even been found in Sussex or Kent, and not so far away. There are surely a few Mr. Treedle-Tweedlys in the south.”

  “No more than four thousand or so, I am told.”

  “Then a simple inquiry could have done the trick, and avoided so much grief.”

  The mask fell to reveal the true Cassandra on this most unusual day. Her eyes blazed with anger. “You are not going to make this easy, are you? You are going to gloat. I knew you would. Even as I agreed to the match, I thought, Oh, Ambury and Kendale and Southwaite are going to love this.”

  “I find gloating of little appeal. I am more interested in learning the story behind this peculiar news.”

  “I am being a dutiful sister, which is not peculiar but expected. I do know how to be one, despite what people think.”

  “It is odd that you are accepting the will of a man you do not trust, no matter what your blood ties.” He advanced until he could look into her eyes and see behind the sparks, whether they be of wit or anger or false joy. “What has he done to make you agree to this, Cassandra? I cannot imagine. I would have wagered that even if he beat you, it would never happen.”

  She bore his scrutiny for a few moments, then turned away abruptly. She kneaded her hands together. She looked back at him defiantly, as if he were to blame for whatever distressed her, but then her expression broke and tears entered her eyes.

  “He has her. My aunt. He has taken her and put her in some doctor’s home with lunatics. She will end her days there unless I do as he commands. Of course I agreed to.”

  There was no of course to it. Many young women would have written a few letters of cheery condolences to the aunt and gone about their lives.

  Barrowmore was a scoundrel.

  “Are you sure she will be free if you make this marriage?”

  “He has promised…he says he will allow her to live in her house in London with a proper companion who knows how to care for those who…those whose minds start sliding back. I do not trust him totally, but I must try to give her back her home and some kind of dignity.” She sounded desperate, and very sad.

  He again saw some blame in her gaze. If he had paid up on those earrings, this would not have happened. She and her aunt would probably have escaped London before Barrowmore executed his plan.

  She composed herself, and put back on her mask to play the role of the Cassandra the world expected. “So what brings you here, if not to offer felicitations on my good fortune?”

  “I came to see your brother.”

  “Government business, I expect. It is odd for Pitt to ask you to be the messenger if they need Gerald for some minor consultation.”

  “Other business.” He gestured for the footman standing by the door and handed over a card. “Tell the earl that I have called.”

  “Please say nothing about what I told you,” Cassandra pleaded when the servant returned for him. “It will only make him angry if you turn your wit on him, and then he may make all of this harder.”

  “I do not intend to say one word about your forthcoming engagement to Mr. Treedle, unless he mentions it himself.”

  Barrowmore received him in the library. Even as Yates entered, the earl wore the smug expression of a man who had proven himself right, once again, on a matter of importance to himself.

  “Were you riding by, Ambury? I would not expect you to call otherwise. If you are looking for a night’s lodging and a meal, we, of course, are happy to accommodate you.”

  “I am here specifically to see you, on a matter of considerable importance to both of us.”

  Barrowmore’s expression altered in the oddest way. Caution flickered in his eyes. Yates wondered what matter might cause that reaction, since the two of them had little connection or contact. Except for Cassandra. And Lakewood, of course.

  They sat and pretended to be comfortable with each other.

  “I have come to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage,” Yates said. “She is of age to decide for herself, but I thought it best to observe the formalities.”

  Barrowmore’s expression fell into one of shock. Yates might indeed have brought news of a French invasion.

  “Surely you jest, Ambury.”

  “Not at all.”

  More astonishment. “Zeus. Zeus. Why?”

  “She suits me.” It was unseemly for Barrowmore to express such amazement, as if his sister really deserved nothing more than a Mr. Treedle.

  Barrowmore tried to recover, but failed. He stood and paced away. Finally, his back straightened and his head rose. He turned around.

  “I regret that you are too late. She is already engaged.”

  “Damnation, that is inconvenient. Who is the lucky man? I expect he is here if all this happened so quickly. I should like to meet him and offer the congratulations of a vanquished opponent.”

  “He is not here, so that is not possible. Nor do I think he would like to meet one of her…prior gentlemen.”

  “Ah, you have heard the gossip.”

  “It was already being whispered before I left town. It is why you are here, isn’t it? To do the right thing by her. But you are too late, as I said.”

  “Like so much gossip, it is not true in the details, but of course no one cares. So, yes, it is one reason why I am here. If her intended is not, and the decision was so recent, I have to wonder if she is in fact engaged yet, or merely promised to him. If it is the latter, you would be a fool to disregard my offer. I suspect it is the better one.”

  “I prefer his.”

  “Under the circumstances, we both know that I am in a poor position to expect a large settlement, while presumably this fellow held a gun to your head to extract as much as possible to take her on. And I am a fellow peer. Why would you prefer his offer to mine?”

  “For one thing, I do not like you. For another, her marriage to you would probably bring more scandal to this family. In fact, I think I would rather see her dead than as your wife.”

  Yates swallowed his building temper. It was not insult that he tasted, even though Barrowmore had insulted him well enough. Instead, he experienced a bloody outrage at Barrowmore’s attitude toward Cassandra. Her brother wanted to punish her with this marriage. He wanted her isolated and invisible. He did not care if that left her unhappy and bound to a man who quite likely scorned her.

  He wanted to thrash Barrowmore. Instead, he stood. “I have done my duty and attempted to rectify the consequences of my behavior. Since you will have none of it, I will take my leave and consider my business with you completed.”

  He walked out. Ignoring the footman’s attempt to escort him, he strode back to the drawing room.

  Cassandra struggled to remain composed. Seeing Ambury had been both horrible and a relief. Horrible because his presence reminded her of the irony of her situation, and also how he had interfered with her hopes of saving her aunt. A relief because she had needed someone to speak to and tell how cruel her brother was being.

  He had mercifully left quickly, before she ended up wailing at her fate. That would have been embarrassing, especially since he probably would not be sympathetic. He might even think there was justice in her marriage to Mr. Treedle, or whatever his name was. She had turned down a baron, had lived on the edge of scandal, and now she merely reaped what she had sown. That would be everyone’s view, she expected.

  She closed her eyes and tried to find a respite of serenity in the chaos swirling in her head and heart. She wondered how Aunt Sophie fared at that doctor’s house. She hoped Sophie’s caretakers would acknowledge she did not belong there, and treat her as a friend instead of an inmate. She hoped th
ey let her work in the garden…

  Rest settled on her, the first she had known in two days. It felt delicious to hold the unhappiness aside for a spell. If she could do that for a few hours, perhaps she could find some way to fight this battle with Gerald instead of simply surrendering.

  “Come with me now,” a voice commanded. A firm hand grasped her wrist and pulled her to her feet.

  She startled alert. Ambury strode away, pulling her along. She tripped after him as he aimed for the terrace doors.

  “We need privacy,” he said. “Show me a place in the garden that cannot be seen from the house.”

  Surprised and befuddled, she pointed to a shrubbery halfway down the garden on the left. Ambury proceeded there with her in tow.

  He released his hold when they were in the shade of the bushes. She sat on a stone bench and remembered that she and Gerald used to play in this little secluded spot when they were children.

  Ambury reached into his coat and removed a parchment. He dropped it on her lap. “That is a special license. I asked your brother for your hand just now. He refused to agree. However, his blessing is not needed, and I think you and I should just walk out the garden portal and—”

  She held up her hands. “Stop, please. Allow me to hear one shocking sentence at a time.”

  He appeared impatient and angry. The first was with her, she guessed. The second probably was due to her brother’s insult.

  She poked at the document on her lap. “You came here with a special license and the intention to propose?”

  “I did.”

  “I suppose that means that the gossip has not died down about us.”

  “It has not.”

  “Poor Ambury. It is a cruel irony to find yourself trapped by honor where I am concerned, I am sure.”

  “I came here to do what honor requires, that is true. I did not take it less seriously, or resent the obligation, because it was you.”

  It was a gallant thing to say. He almost had indicated that the notion did not horrify him too much.

  “There is no need now, of course,” she said. “Mr. Treedle will solve everything. That should be a relief to you.”

  “Mr. Treedle is an ass.”

  “You have not even met him.”

  “Nor have you. You don’t even know if his name is Mr. Treedle.”

  “Goodness, you do not sound relieved at all. Are you annoyed that my stupid brother prefers Mr. Whoever to you?”

  “Not annoyed. Mystified. My offer should be preferable in every way.”

  “It would be foolish to let pride lead you to folly. You may be mystified, but you are also spared an unwelcomed marriage.”

  Ambury sat down beside her. “See here, I was not joking. I think we should elope and let your brother swallow it. I am hardly a paragon, but I am not known to seduce young women who have never married. Even Mr. Tweedle can’t clear your name of this. Only I can.”

  He meant it. That was sweet, and it touched her. “You are forgetting why I agreed to his plans. My aunt. Gerald will never let her go if I elope with you. For all the good that will do, I might as well marry no one at all.”

  He paced back and forth, his scowl showing exasperation with her reluctance. “Let us say I find a way for us to rescue your aunt.”

  “Is the price of that rescue my agreement to this marriage? You would not do it otherwise?”

  “It would be pointless to do it otherwise. Your brother would get her back, and I would have no standing to do anything about it. If you and I are married, I could offer protection, legally and socially. In the least, I can muddy the waters. I would be acting on your behalf, but my actions and words will carry far more weight than yours.”

  “Indeed, they would carry at least as much as his,” she mused, seeing the idea in a clearer light and envisioning any challenges. “More, since your words will be better spoken and you are better liked.”

  So there it was. A choice of sorts. Not really a choice, if she did not want to be buried alive. Not a choice at all, if she wanted to protect Aunt Sophie. And yet…

  Ambury appeared so serious as he made his case for a marriage he had never sought, with a woman he did not love. There was so much unspoken between them, about Aunt Sophie and his pursuit of information about those earrings. About Lakewood.

  Perhaps Mr. Treedle would be the better choice when it came to living out the years ahead.

  “Do you give your word that she can live with me, that you will never try to do what Gerald has done, even if she should become a little dotty?”

  “If she ever needs special care, it will be in your home, not another.”

  “I want your word that you will protect her, no matter what.”

  He smiled ruefully. “I never swear to something so ambiguous as no matter what, Cassandra. I will, however, promise to protect her, no matter what, so long as it does not compromise my honor.”

  She could hardly say that was not good enough, even though it might not be.

  She wished she could demand time to think about this. Her mind felt full of cotton, and too many emotions jumped around inside her. It wasn’t fair that she had to do this now.

  “Cassandra, it is good of you to think of your aunt. It is time to think of yourself too. I was seen leaving your house that night. The scandal is breaking hard in London, even as we sit here. There is a name attached to the gossip this time, and it is mine. You will not survive this as you have the vague rumors of the past. You will be ruined for sure, totally, and my honor will be impugned. I must demand that you allow me to do the right thing here.”

  “It means a lifetime, Ambury.”

  “The life you knew is over anyway.”

  That was harsh. True, but harsh. Nor did it address the life that would follow. “As dear Emma would say, let us speak frankly. You do not really like me, Ambury. You do not trust me. You blame me for your friend’s tainted reputation. I have come to suspect you blame me for his death.”

  “I like you well enough. As for the rest, we will not speak of it. It was long ago.”

  From his tone, she guessed he meant the “not speak of it” started right now. Perhaps he was wise. Maybe they could just lock the topic away in a wardrobe. After a few years, Lakewood’s ghost might stop rapping at the door, demanding attention.

  “Will your parents not be appalled that you are marrying a woman reputed to have had a history of liaisons?”

  “They expect me to act with honor and that is what I am doing. However—I do need to know, for their sake as well as my own, whether you have had a liaison recently.”

  “Ah. So you want to know the truth about my past.”

  He thought about that, then shook his head. “Only the recent past.”

  “The only recent thing that might be called a liaison ended last February. He was a French émigré. Do you need to know if I loved him?”

  “No.”

  Of course not. This was not about romance, love, and jealousy. Ambury did not care if she had given herself to another, or even many others, so long as she did not present him with a son born too soon.

  “The Highburton succession is in no danger,” she said.

  “Nor must it be in the future.”

  Rather suddenly they were down to significant negotiations. “I know that. I am an earl’s daughter. However, after that succession is secured, I assume you will allow me my freedom, as is customary.”

  Another thoughtful pause. A rather long one. “I will consider it.”

  She hoped that meant he would be reasonable. She would not know until the day came.

  “And you, Ambury? Is there someone who will be unhappy by this precipitous marriage of obligation? You do not like the question, I see. Perhaps all those rumors about you are something else we will not speak of.”

  “That might be best.”

  The life you knew is over anyway. Just how different it would be, and how powerless she would be, pressed on her. A panic pounded in her chest. She clung to the
one good thing that she knew for certain she would see in this decision.

  “How do you intend to find my aunt? We should move quickly if we are to move at all.”

  “I will query the coachman and grooms, and see where your brother went.”

  “They may not tell you.”

  “If he treats you badly, he treats them worse, you can be sure of it. I will bribe if necessary, but I expect to get the route he took out of them in the least.”

  “I will see if my mother knows anything.”

  He took her hand in his. “Then we are decided?”

  Saying it was hard. After escaping such a marriage once, she never expected to find herself in another one. She might be agreeing to a terrible mistake.

  It was not about her, however. Gerald had made promises that she could not trust him to keep. Ambury would rescue and protect Aunt Sophie if he promised to. She believed that, and it was all that mattered now.

  “Yes, we are decided.”

  He surprised her then. After this most practical conversation, he kissed her. Not a sweet kiss sealing their engagement either. He kissed her fully, sensually, as if he had been waiting to do so. He held her head and embraced her body and pulled her close, so his hold encompassed her. He kissed her until sensations stirred that distracted her from her worries about Sophie.

  The carnal implications of this marriage became explicit. It flittered through her mind how that could be horrible too, if one married the wrong man. She would just have to hope that it would not be.

  When he stopped kissing her, he looked down, with his fingertips resting on her lips. His hand drifted down, skimming her chin and neck and breast. Finally, he released her.

  “Go now. Meet me here in three hours.”

  Chapter 16

  Doing the Right Thing was a lot like having a bad tooth pulled. Given the choice, one would not do it, but it had to be suffered as a necessity.

  It struck Yates, as he made his way through the property to the carriage house and stables, that he should be in a darker mood than he was. Mostly that was because he anticipated having Cassandra soon. The notion of taking her to bed put a better light on just about everything.