The Conquest of Lady Cassandra

by Madeline Hunter

  “Among the dangers is insanity,” Yates said. “I read a scientific paper on it. A groom parted too soon from his bride might go mad from the lack of release.”

  Kendale scowled at him. “That makes no sense. If a man could go insane from lack of release, catholic priests, university dons, armies at war, the entire naval service, and half the husbands married over three years would all be lunatics.”

  “One would think so, but it appears we grooms are special. The paper explained how the lack of release following the free assumption of enjoying said release was what could lead to insanity. The evidence of this truth is all around us. How often have we seen a man who, when thrown over by his mistress, turns mad? He threatens, he weeps, he stays drunk for days while he writes bad poetry and considers doing himself in.” Yates sipped his brandy. “I hope you did not believe it was a broken heart causing that, Kendale, instead of something as vulgar as the anticipation of sexual frustration.”

  Kendale’s gaze narrowed on him. Yates maintained his serious and innocent pose.

  “He is taking advantage of your common sense, Kendale. Again,” Southwaite said. “Neither Ambury nor I have any excuse for sending you to the coast instead of going ourselves, except our desire to—well, indulge our desire.”

  “It seems to me that you have both been doing that long enough to want a few days away. Don’t correct me, Ambury. If you were any other man and she any other woman, perhaps your claims of innocence would have been believed. Both of you knew they would not be, so do not blame me for my assumptions.”

  “Then accept as my excuse my obligation to pursue a greater duty, so you do not leave thinking that I shirk that which takes you away.”

  “Ah, it is not pleasure that binds you here, but the need for an heir. How convenient for you that greater duty still requires you to bed your new wife.”

  “I referred to my need to go down to Elmswood. I have some work to do there that has been delayed by recent events. I also need to introduce my wife to the people there.” It would be all the honeymoon Cassandra would have too. Between his father’s health and the dangers of war, they would not be taking any lengthy journeys abroad, even within England.

  “I will end this conversation as I started it, by noting that it will all fall to me for many months from the sounds of it.” He stood and buttoned his coat. “While I am in Kent, I will make it clear that none of us is to be called unless the watchers have good cause. The letter you received sounded panicked, Southwaite. Considering the high alarm of the country, it is to be expected, but I grow weary of riding all that way for nothing. My ass should not suffer for our watchers’ poor judgment.”

  “Do as you think best, of course,” Southwaite said.

  It was unnecessary to say, since Kendale always did what he thought was best, even if the rest of them thought another course of action would be better.

  “I hope he can calm them down,” Southwaite said after Kendale left. He pawed over some letters stacked on the table. “Some of the watchers are seeing ghost ships due to looking too hard into the night. I spend hours each day writing back, pointing out that their breathless reports, in fact, include nothing of note.”

  “Considering recent events, the network we put into place is inadequate. It is time for the government to do something official, and permanent.”

  “I believe that will happen soon. Do you remember that series of towers that we proposed last year? Coastal defenses, staffed by the war office, so that the watching is systematic and the southeast coast is more secure?”

  “I thought that plan had died.”

  “It was resurrected in early summer. The war office has been working on a list of locations. It appears they will move soon.”

  “That is good to know.”

  “I would have told you sooner, but you have been busy conquering Lady Cassandra and getting caught at it.”

  “I did not enjoy any conquest, as I told you.”

  “Allow me to believe you did. The idea that you found yourself obligated to marry a woman whom you did not even seduce is too dispiriting.”

  “The realization that she has now been redeemed and can be your wife’s friend should raise your spirits enough. As for the rest that might dampen your delight, Kendale saw the situation clearly enough to host the wedding and stand witness. If he can accommodate this match, you should be able to.”

  Southwaite settled into the chair that Kendale had vacated and stretched out his booted legs much as Kendale had. “You entered this house this afternoon looking like a man drunk on new pleasure, so right now it appears this marriage suits you well enough, and that is what matters.”

  “By right now, you imply it may not when the experience ceases to be new and inebriating.”

  “I expect that is true of most marriages.”

  Not his, of course. Southwaite’s confidence that his love match would never fail to suit him did not require expression. He gazed at his brandy for a spell but eventually turned his eyes toward Yates.

  “Have you talked to her about Lakewood?”

  “There isn’t anything to say.”

  “Isn’t there? Penthurst’s upcoming trial has caused me to think about that duel quite frequently of late. I wonder if I assumed too much. I wonder if Lakewood intended for me to.”

  Yates did not like to think of that ugly, snowy day when Southwaite informed him and Kendale that Lakewood had just died. “As his second, surely your understanding was as sound as anyone’s.”

  “He said Penthurst had insulted a lady. The love of his life, he said. Like you, I assumed that meant Cassandra Vernham, but now…” He shrugged. “He had to be a fool to challenge Penthurst. Had he succeeded in killing a duke…”

  “He probably did not intend to kill. Most duels do not end that way these days.”

  “Oh, he intended to kill. That was clear when we all met. Lakewood demanded the ultimate satisfaction. Even so, Penthurst, I am sure now, as I relive it often in my head, aimed high, for his shoulder, but Lakewood stepped into his own shot at just the wrong time.” He shook his head sadly. “Hell of a thing. I suppose we will have more answers soon enough, when Penthurst goes before the lords. I will probably be called to give testimony. Hence my renewed efforts to sort out just what I saw and just what Lakewood said.”

  “Perhaps you think about it too much. It was what it was.”

  “You are more sure than I am about what it was. I would expect you to grab the ambiguity, now that you are married to her.”

  “I have decided she cannot be blamed for men killing each other.”

  “You are better than I am, if you can leave it at that.”

  Yates was not sure he was better at all. He had broached the topic in his head a few times, most recently last night, when, sated with her scent and softness, he had debated if clearing the air about Lakewood might be best. That old friend had become a ghost of late, a spirit that entered his mind carrying all those ambiguities like a long chain. He had told Cassandra they would not speak of it, but he wondered if the ghost would ever rest if they did not.

  Now that he is dead, no one knows what really happened except me. That was what she had said. Wondering what she referred to had become yet one more link in that chain. A big one.

  “I will be leaving town for two weeks,” he said as he stood to take his leave. “I was not lying about having some business to address in the south.”

  “Your bride should be glad to escape town for a while.”

  “The news of our marriage has made drawing rooms more interesting of late, and a long line of ladies has called on her to satisfy their curiosity, so she is indeed looking forward to this little journey.”

  “I was thinking more in terms of escaping your mother.”

  “That is going better than hoped, but it is possible she may be glad for a holiday from that as well.”

  As he rode home, he considered that fortune had smiled on him regarding that last relationship. For once, his mother had
decided to ignore any failings she saw. There had been no rows or awkwardness at Cassandra’s first meeting with his mother, nor any since. Nor great warmth either, of course.

  Their first week of marriage had progressed well. It was still new, but the comfortable familiarity forming spoke well for the years ahead. He should be more contented than he was.

  He blamed himself for the irritations he experienced sometimes. They almost always afflicted him when he bumped into the hedgerows planted with his own words, when he had told her they would not speak of her past in general, and Lakewood in particular.

  He had assumed that leaving all of that in the past would be best for the future. He might have been wrong.

  Cassandra could tell that something was on Ambury’s mind. His lovemaking was more aloof than normal. That he spoke little in the aftermath did not surprise her. That she could sense an internal distraction in him did.

  She expected him to leave and devote himself to whatever occupied his head. He did not. Instead, he laid there beside her while the candles gutted and the room darkened. His right arm remained across her body, and his hand held her hip in an awkwardly possessive gesture, while his brain went wherever it might. She tried to sleep so she might not be too tired for the carriage ride down to Highburton’s county seat in the morning.

  “What was his name?”

  Her eyes opened in surprise. She had not guessed he had been doing all that thinking about her.

  “I am not going to tell you. You said we would not speak of it and already you have done so twice now.”

  “I have changed my mind.”

  “Change it again.”

  “I do not like the idea that I might meet him, and that he knows he had your love and I do not know he was the one who did.”

  “You will not meet him. He was not born to your circles. He is not with the kind of regiment that finds itself at your parties.”

  “I still want to know his name.”

  She sat up and pulled the sheet around her. He was little more than a collection of dark forms in the night, but she saw him clearly in her head. Saw the handsome face and the hard mouth unsoftened by one of his frequent smiles. Saw the taut muscles of the naked body that marriage gave her a right to admire now.

  “I do not believe you will be any happier knowing his name, or anything about such things. I do know the names of some of your former lovers, and the knowing brings me no comfort. I would rather be ignorant.”

  “That is different. You are mine now.”

  Heavens, but men had such strange minds. Worse, they could be so annoying when they said things and did not hear what else their words meant. You are mine. He saw it going only one way, as most men did. He possessed her, but she did not possess him. That is different. In his mind, it was different, and the whole male world agreed.

  “Yes, I am yours. Can you not be content with that? It is not as if you really care who he was or what I felt for him. I doubt you even resent that you were not the first. The truth is, you like having a wife that you can treat like a mistress instead of a virginal girl. You like that I am bold enough and worldly enough for more sophisticated pleasure. It is why you wanted me.”

  He looked at her through the dark, then sat up and reached for his robe. “Perhaps you know my mind better than I do, Cassandra. You certainly see the benefits of the marriage to me more clearly than I had. I will do as you suggest and enjoy my good fortune in the ways you recommend.”

  Chapter 20

  Cassandra loved her bedchamber at Elmswood Manor. An abundance of windows let in beautiful northern light that filtered through trees until it assumed a cool, silvery cast. As a result, it was always dawn in the chamber, and restful and quiet.

  Her apartment was larger than in London. It was all hers too. She could find no door or passage that connected to Ambury’s chambers. Presumably, only the earl enjoyed such convenience with his wife here.

  He found her anyway. He walked in while the maid assigned to her unpacked her portmanteau. He did not announce himself or say any word at all. He merely stood at the doorway to the dressing room until the maid noticed him and excused herself.

  Thinking a husband’s sense of privilege could be inconvenient sometimes, Cassandra began a bit of unpacking herself. Ambury watched with his shoulder resting against the wall and his arms crossed.

  “We will dine at Trotwood Park with the Witherspoons. They are a prominent gentry family and important in the county,” he said. “Tomorrow morning, we will ride out so the servants and tenants can see you.”

  “Then I should hang this out at once.” She pulled out her riding dress and shook it out with a flourish. He did not get the hint that she was more likely to appear presentable if he allowed the maid back to do her duty.

  “The next day, I will have to leave for a few days. I need to ride south to visit some property.”

  “Is this part of your obligations to your father and the estate?”

  “One of the more inconvenient ones.”

  “I will use the time to get to know the people here. I may do better on my own anyway, since they are too much in awe of you.” She looked to the door through which the maid had disappeared. “Or else, perhaps, afraid of you, if they are young, pretty things.”

  “I have never importuned a servant, and do not expect to ever consider it in the future.”

  “That is good of you.”

  “Do not attribute more restraint to me than I deserve. I shall never consider it, because I have a wife at my beck and call now. So actually, it is good of you.”

  “Beck and call? I hope you do not plan to bellow through the house for me when you feel randy. Will you send your valet or a footman?”

  “More likely I will just walk in the door.”

  As he had recently done. Unpacking had distracted her from the mood he projected. Interested. Restless and a little dangerous. Ambury, when in pursuit, created a subtle but undeniable disturbance in the air of a space. An exciting one. It assaulted her now, and she stirred in response. Over the last week, her body had shed any inhibitions about meeting desire with desire.

  He watched while she set out a few items for her toilet, on the dressing table. Then she went into the bedchamber. “I think this is the most lovely chamber I have ever used. All the white linens, pale paint, lace trim, and plump pillows make it look like a Boucher painting.”

  “All that is missing is a beautiful naked woman displaying her pretty bottom on that bed.” He lowered himself onto the palest blue chair and reached for her. He turned her around and released the fastenings on her dress. “You will have to paint that in.”

  “Is that a beck or a call, Ambury?”

  “It is a command, Cassandra. Men do not beckon their mistresses.”

  He was throwing her words from last night back at her. His manner dared her to play the worldly role she had told him he expected.

  No, not dared, she decided when she turned around and saw how he waited and watched. Commanded, just as he said. Nor was she certain this would be a game.

  She should not like the subtle ways that affected him, but her body did. Lowering her dress titillated her. Ambury’s hot, hard gaze caused hundreds of tiny, thrilling shivers when she slid her chemise off her shoulders. Soon she stood in front of him wearing nothing but her hose.

  He appeared far too composed to her. Too in command of them both, as he intended. Deciding to even the score a bit, she went to his chair, nestled her knee at his crotch, and angled to kiss him. She did it more aggressively than normal, and she felt the effects in the bulging firmness against which her knee pressed.

  She broke the kiss and waited for his mouth to move to her body. Instead, he gave her one small kiss on her cheek. “Get on the bed, Cassandra.”

  A little disappointed, she walked to the bed. It was a big one that required she climb up. She threw herself down across it. She lay on her stomach and rose on her forearms to watch him.

  Ambury stood and undressed. It
did not take long. It reminded her of that day on the coast, when he had stripped to bathe in the sea. The drapes in the chamber had not been drawn, so the cool light showed his lean strength just as the brilliant sun had that day. They had seen each other undressed enough, but this was the first time since that day that she had seen him naked in clear light.

  He knelt one knee beside her and kissed between her shoulders. Another kiss on her back. One more at the base of her spine. Then she felt him behind her, lifting her hips.

  “Kneel.”

  A profound tremor shook down her center and pooled in her vulva. She knelt, and he arranged her so her bottom rose higher than her back. Her position and vulnerability created a compelling mix of anticipation and fear. Her breasts rasped against the sheets, arousing her all the more.

  He touched her, and immediately frantic hunger possessed her mind. It was not a touch designed for pleasure. He did not tease or caress. He stroked deeply, making her ready for him. As soon as she was, he thrust inside her so deeply that her breath caught.

  He took her then. Took his pleasure while he held her body for his use. She found hers too, a savagely erotic pleasure stripped of artifice or tenderness. He ravished her, and she reveled in it. She climaxed first, before his final ruthless thrusts brought his own completion. He released her then, and they collapsed on the bed in a tumble of nakedness.

  She did not drift in sated bliss afterward. She lay on her side with his strong warmth behind her, starkly awake and alert to the difference in what had just happened.

  It had been amazing in its way, but she would not have liked it the first time with him, or every time. She could not ignore that there had been few preliminaries and damned little intimacy. No kissing or caresses. No deliberate arousals of her breasts and body. On occasion, this would be exciting. If it were every night, she did not think she would like the cold indifference it would imply.

  She waited for some sign that today did not herald how it would be from now on. Anything at all would do, even a kiss on her shoulder. Surely he did more with his mistresses than ensure they had a climax.