The Duke's Dilemma (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 2)

by Elaine Manders

  She slapped at his arm and patted the place beside her. “You know me too well, Edward. Yes, I have a scheme. I intend to invite both Alice and Lady Wayte to the manor.” She chuckled at his startled glance. “I believe Sarah needs to return to the country, don’t you?”

  With a shake of the head, he sat beside her. “Are you saying you wish to invite Lady Wayte to Langsdale?”

  She cackled and selected another bonbon. “I may be an old maid, but I know it’s pointless to fight love. If Lady Wayte is removed to the country, away from her disreputable friends, the Ton will move on to other interests…as will Daphne. I expect Daphne will be safely married before you return with your wife.”

  Aunt Chloe was always surprising him, but this was above the pale. “My wife?”

  “Naturally.” She smothered another laugh. “Surely you don’t intend to make Lady Wayte your mistress?”

  “Of course not, but you’re assuming much. Lady Wayte might not agree to be my wife. For that matter, she might not accept our invitation to Langsdale.”

  “Posh. She will if you go. We’ll give the pretense that she’s going to tutor Sarah in her painting, but you’ll have plenty of time to woo her, as I expect you intend to do, and a woman would have to have bats in her belfry to refuse you. While Lady Wayte might be low-born, I suspect she’s quite intelligent.”

  Aunt Chloe had beat him to the post. He’d anticipated persuading her to receive Cassandra. Never would he have thought she’d sit here urging him to marry the lady. He did care for Cassandra…a lot. But enough to contemplate marriage? He didn’t know enough about her, otherwise he’d not be hiring Charles to investigate. It was imperative that he know what she was up to before declaring himself.

  “There’s just one small problem.” Aunt Chloe pulled him from his thoughts.

  One? He could see many. “What would that be?”

  “You recall that Alice and I are going to Bath within the month. You and Lady Wayte will have to wed before we leave, but that should give you a fortnight at least.”

  “That’s hardly time to get to know each other.”

  “Sorry for it, but you’ll have to be married before Alice and I leave. Lady Wayte cannot stay at Langsdale without proper chaperone.” Aunt Chloe took another bonbon and tapped Edward on the shoulder. “I don’t understand why you favor this lady or why Sarah is so fascinated with her, but dear Alice loves her, and that counts for something.” Aunt Chloe cocked her head and lifted her brows. “Well, I’ve given you the perfect solution. If you want it?”

  Silence fell as he tried to take all this in. So that was it. Aunt Chloe was calling his bluff. He must marry Lady Wayte or drop the matter. He got to his feet and paced about, weaving his fingers in his waistcoat, a habit for deep thought.

  Aunt Chloe cleared her throat. “It’ll be months before the start of Parliament, and the next Season. Who can say what scandals may pop up to capture the imagination during that time? You might well be able to bring your bride back with your heads held high. She’s beautiful, I’ll give her that. She’ll grace the family jewels to perfection. As your wife, she’ll travel in different circles and forget her indecent friends. After you’re married, you’ll be able to control her wild impulses.”

  “Control her?” The notion repulsed him. He’d always hoped he and his wife, when he had one, would be of one accord because they loved each other.

  “Don’t be a peagoose, Edward. If the Ton refuses to receive Cassandra, even as your wife, you’ll have to leave her in the country. You’ll be a leader in Parliament. A man who cannot control his wife would gain little respect. You recall the former Lord Jersey?”

  She referred to George Villiers who married the notorious woman who replaced Maria Fitzherbert in the Prince’s life and went on to engage in a number of very public affairs. “I don’t think he was much bothered. It’s said when he was asked why he didn’t fight a duel for his wife’s honor, he replied that he’d have to shoot every man in London.”

  Aunt Chloe chuckled and shrugged. “Things have changed. Lady Sarah Jersey, who controls Almack’s, is very discriminating. She’d never allow Lady Wayte a voucher under the present circumstances.”

  He’d given that problem much thought already. It wasn’t status or money that kept one out of Almack’s so much as propriety, though Edward suspected even impropriety would be acceptable if well hidden. As soon as he learned the truth about Cassandra, he’d devise a campaign to restore her reputation.

  At the same time, if Cassandra would accept Aunt Chloe’s invitation, it would remove her from the trouble she was in. He welcomed the chance to get to know her better away from the distractions of the city. Charles could send reports to Langsdale. Edward had no pressing commitments keeping him here, and in view of Daphne’s outrage, this would afford him an escape from any confrontations with her.

  After racking his brain for the last few days, he could hardly credit that his irascible aunt had come up with a solution.

  “While I thought you and Lady Hayes were going over old memories, you were conniving.”

  Chewing on another candy, Chloe mumbled. “That’s what old ladies do.” She patted a linen handkerchief to her mouth. “Then you agree?”

  “All except the time constraints. I’ll need more time. After all, this affects the future of us all, as you, yourself, have pointed out.”

  She snickered under her breath. “I believe two weeks is quite enough time for you to decide if you wish to spend the rest of your life with Lady Wayte—or not.”

  Edward considered telling Aunt Chloe about his plans for helping Cassandra, and that he’d set in motion the investigation that would expose those responsible for her ostracism. He decided against it. What if Cassandra was actually involved in some tawdry behavior?

  Nothing else mattered anyway. The desire to protect this woman pushed all other options aside. Getting her out of London would be the best way to protect her from her enemies.

  And herself.

  Chapter 9

  As soon as they alit from the carriage at Mayfair, a hush fell over the crowds. Women raised painted fans over their faces, and voices hissed and whispered. Edward shrugged it off. He’d expected his appearance with Lady Wayte would draw interest. The best approach would be to ignore gawkers, and let them draw their own conclusions.

  All eyes turned to Cassandra as he handed the reins to the ostler. He couldn’t blame them. She was fetching in her oyster and navy gown. The matching bonnet trimmed with a curled ostrich feather barely covered her golden curls.

  Sarah ran ahead of them, twirling around as she went to allow the ruffles of her new white and yellow gown to fluff out. With her chip straw hat held in place with her hand, his sister radiated excitement.

  He chided himself for not paying more attention to her. Hadn’t he brought her to town to save her from boredom? Yet this was the first time he’d treated Sarah with an outing, and he had to admit his desire to be with Cassandra had more to do with that than his desire to please Sarah.

  Cassandra’s interest in Sarah had alerted him to his sister’s needs as no one else could. The invitation to Langsdale burned in his mind and before the end of the day, he’d ask her. That brought forth possibilities that made his pulse race as they threaded through the crowds to the pavilion.

  With her face tipped up, those incredible blue eyes sparkled under long lashes. Bright sunlight revealed her beautiful features. He couldn’t find a single flaw, and his heart turned over at the thought that this woman might be his bride before the month was out. She would grace the family jewels, grace his table, stand beside him at assemblies, walk beside him in the warmth of summer days. Share the solitude of long winter nights.

  She’d caught him grinning foolishly. “What amuses you, your grace? You seem as excited as Sarah.” She laughed. “I didn’t know you favored puppet shows so much.”

  “Oh, but I do. When we were lads, my brother and I went to Punch and Judy shows often. Once we threw a couple
of fish right on the stage in the middle of a show.”

  She smothered another laugh with her gloved hand. “I imagine that caused a commotion.”

  “It did, but the show was about fishing, so the audience and the puppeteers were delighted. Our father was not, however. He thrashed us both and forbid any more shows that summer.”

  They waited in front of the red and yellow striped tent for a group of strollers to pass. “I saw only one Punch and Judy show when I was a child, and it was not as grand as this. My grandparents were visiting in Cornwall, and if it were not a free show that day I would not have attended.”

  He’d forgotten her humble past. How incredible that the elegant woman before him had once been dressed in peasant attire. The simple entertainment he’d taken for granted was a once in a childhood memory for her. He’d make certain she received only the best in the future.

  He cupped her elbow as they made their way to the best seats right in front of the stage. Within minutes, all the seats were taken, and a brightly dressed man, the bottler, came from behind the curtained area to collect tickets.

  Edward gestured the man to lean down. “I’m the duke of Langsdale, and I shall pay for all the un-ticketed people with twenty percent gratuity. Send the bill to my residence, and…I wish to remain anonymous.”

  “It shall be done, your grace.” The bottler bowed and scurried to the back. “Come in, one and all. Take your places. The show is free today.”

  Cassandra took Edward by the arm as applause broke out. “How very kind of you, your grace.” The look of pleasure and gratitude she gave him brought a foolish lump to his throat.

  Sarah piped in. “Edward is always paying for poor people anonymously.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

  Edward swallowed as he gazed into Cassandra’s eyes. “Let’s just say it’s in memory of your free show.”

  She opened her smiling mouth as if to speak, but the bottler interrupted. He drew the curtains back, and the show began. Instead of marionettes, hand puppets were used, but the characters were the same. Dressed in a brightly colored jester’s motley and sugarloaf hat with a tassel, Punch’s nose almost met his curved, jutting chin. He used the familiar slapstick to smack the other characters, especially his wife, Judy, identified by her large mop cap.

  Before long, the clever skits had them laughing. Often the bottler interacted with the puppets, even engaging the audience from time to time. In one of the lively exchanges, the Punch’s slapstick dropped to the floor, and the bottler refused to retrieve it.

  Punch huffed, shaded his eyes with his hand, and made a wide turn as if scanning the audience. “Little lass, come hither, help an old man, my dear.” He squawked.

  Sarah glanced to Edward and Cassandra, then back to the stage. “Me?”

  Punch nodded. “Yes, you—the lass with yellow ribbons in yer bonnet. Help me, child.”

  Sarah walked to the stage, casting a backward glance to Edward. The audience applauded. “What do you want?” she asked the puppet.

  “Me stick. Ye see it at yer feet?”

  Sarah bent and lifted the floppy thing that could hardly be called a stick. “Ah, would you be kind enough to put it in me hands?”

  She pressed it to one of Punch’s hands and it fell on the stage. “Ye’ll have to help me, lassie, I don’t have fingers.”

  The audience laughed as Sarah made several attempts to pull Punch’s hands together on the stick. The puppet finally cooperated. “Thank you, lassie. You can go back to your parents.”

  “They’re not my parents. It’s my brother and…my friend.”

  Punch stretched up as if peering at the audience. “Ah, I see.”

  Laughter filled the tent. Out of the corner of his eye, Edward caught a glimpse of Cassandra. Her lips pursed together in a tight line as she ducked her head. She didn’t want this attention called to her, though she must have seen the narrowed eyes and the averted glances when they’d arrived.

  He’d deliberately avoided any of the people he recognized, hoping to save her from slights. That was for naught, perhaps. He turned his attention back to the stage.

  Punch sniffed. “Your friend is a lovely lady…quite lovely. I think she’s your brother’s friend too, wouldn’t ye say?”

  Sarah giggled. “Of course.”

  “Are ye laughing at me, lassie?” Punch squawked and started flaying the stick at Sarah.

  She jumped back and skipped to her seat, collapsing in laughter.

  Waving his hands frantically, the bottler spoke up. “Do you know you just struck a duke’s sister?”

  Punch reared back. “A duke’s sister?” He turned on the hapless Judy. “You stood there and let me strike a duke’s sister.” He began pummeling Judy who shrieked and cowered as the curtains closed.

  Sarah jumped up with most of the audience. “I enjoyed the show, did you not, Lady Wayte?”

  “I did indeed, and you added much to it.”

  Sarah turned to Edward. “I see my friend, Amy, waving at me. May I go speak to her?”

  Edward shot a quick glance to Cassandra, knowing she wished to leave, but this might give him a few moments alone with her. “I think that would be all right if you don’t leave the tent.”

  He swiveled in his chair to address Cassandra. “Did you really enjoy it?”

  “Very much. I haven’t laughed as much since…in a very long time.”

  “We must do something about that. Aunt Chloe had a marvelous idea to get us away from the dank of the city.”

  Her brows furrowed. “Get away? Are you leaving, your grace?”

  “Just to Langsdale for awhile. Aunt Chloe is going to invite you and Lady Hayes.”

  He searched to see the sparkle of delight in her eyes. There was none. “I couldn’t possibly go. I thought your aunt was to accompany my godmother to Bath.”

  “They will go on to Bath after a short while, but Aunt Chloe thought you might continue Sarah’s painting lessons in the country.”

  She looked away. He noted the rise and fall of her bosom and the twisting of her lips as she fought for what to say. “I can’t leave London, I’m sorry to say. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to tutor Sarah, but it will be easy to continue when she returns. She will return with you, will she not?”

  Perhaps she didn’t understand. “I thought you and I and Sarah could stay on in the country until after Christmas, or even after Michaelmas.” How much plainer could he make it that he wished them to be together.

  Her gaze dropped to her lap, and she fidgeted with the handkerchief she held. “I thank your grace…and Lady Pugh. It’s very kind, but I must decline.”

  Too stunned for words, he could only stare at her downcast face. Didn’t she understand that this invitation was tantamount to a marriage proposal?

  She didn’t want to marry him. The realization hit him like a shot to the gut. He’d never considered that she wouldn’t jump at the chance to marry him.

  He’d thought she admired him. Those little looks and mannerisms women gave to let a man know were all there, except now. Her discomfiture told him she understand and wanted no part of it.

  Most of the crowd had left before he and Cassandra stood in unison. Edward beckoned Sarah to follow. As they made their way to the carriage, a scruffy boy jumped out in front of them.

  Doffing his battered hat, he bowed. “Are you Lady Wayte?”

  Cassandra sent a startled glance to Edward before replying. “Yes.”

  “Mrs. Vernon says that Hilda can’t meet you at the Red Fox, but she’ll be at the Green Duck tomorrow at five.”

  “I’ll send someone for her.” Cassandra’s voice tightened.

  The boy boldly held out his hand, and before Cassandra could open her reticule, Edward dropped a sovereign in the boy’s hand.

  She met Edward’s gaze with a smile. “Hilda may be hired to replace one of our seamstresses.”

  He took her elbow. “To take Lucy’s place?”

  “Yes, to take Lucy’
s place.” Her answer came too quickly, reminding him she hid secrets he intended to unravel. He hoped Charles was on the job. The Red Fox was a respectable establishment, but the Green Duck was well known to be a hostelry used as a front for a bawdy house.

  He’d demand an explanation if his mind wasn’t in a muddle as to why she’d refused his invitation to his country estate.

  ***

  Half in anticipation, half in fear, Cassandra huddled in a dark corner of the taproom at the Green Duck. The typical dank and dingy hostelry catered to the equally dank and dingy inhabitants of Cheapside. In spite of her disguise, she shrank back each time a ruffian leered at her.

  What madness had snagged her brain to make her believe she could carry out this escapade? Yet, what choice did she have? After studying the matter, even after pulling out Lord Wayte’s dueling pistol, she couldn’t yet muster the nerve to actually kill Sir Harcrumb. And opportunity was closing.

  At one time she could have, after he’d ravaged her of every shred of decency. He’d left her like a mad animal, with no moral sense, ready to strike out.

  If she could find another like her, fresh from her wounds, that person might be persuaded. Some inner perception told her Hilda Garth was such a woman, though Cassandra thought herself mad to even consider such an outrageous plot.

  The overwhelming obstacles of the undertaking loomed before her, and she fervently wished she were any other place in the world.

  The longer she waited, the more her fears consumed her. If only there was someone to give her counsel, to whom she could unburden herself. Her thoughts flew to the duke. For one wild moment she considered revealing her problems to him, then realized how foolhardy that would be.

  His invitation to Langsdale had shocked her. She knew he was attracted to her, but was he ready to declare his intentions? She’d made the right decision to spurn his overtures. Of course she had. But even so, his offer played over and over in her mind.

  If only she could give her heart to a man, he would be the one. She groped about like a blind woman, trying to find some possibility and always came back to the same conclusion. She couldn’t accept him without revealing the truth, and once he knew, he’d be repelled.