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

by Elaine Manders

  She’d read too much into the duke’s kiss. Given his words too much credit. When he’d invited her to Langsdale, she’d first thought he only wanted her to continue Sarah’s lessons. Then she’d allowed for the possibility that he enjoyed her company.

  Now she had to consider he had a more sinister motivation. She had intrigued him, and he wished to amuse himself by discovering her secrets. Noblemen were known to bore easily. Some men studied science or art to alleviate their boredom. Edward might prefer to study people.

  What if he didn’t care for her at all, but only wanted to toy with her, much as a cat plays with a string. Or it might be that he wished to use her to make Daphne jealous.

  Each possibility became more unpleasant.

  She might be wrong, of course. How she wished she were wrong.

  Why couldn’t she believe his explanation that he’d only set spies on her because he wanted to help her, to protect her from Sir Harcrumb? Deep inside, she did believe him. It was only the reality he was bound to learn the truth that had her terrified.

  She forced her attention to the moment at hand. They crossed the bridge, and Gama still nodded in her corner. Lady Pugh fairly snored on the other side. How they could sleep through Sarah’s noise was a wonder.

  Should she wake them? No, give them a few more winks.

  She patted Sarah’s hand to calm her. “The house is so massive, I wonder if you didn’t get lost in it.”

  Sarah giggled. “There are places I used to be afraid to enter, when I was a little girl.” She sobered quickly. “And after Mama and Papa died, almost every room made me sad.”

  Cassandra remembered the duke telling her how morose Sarah had been after their parents’ deaths. That’s why he’d taken her to London. Would the child draw back into melancholy now that she’d returned home? “I just realized you and I share the same sad past, losing both our parents at the same time. My parents died together in a fire in the barn.”

  Sarah’s mouth fell open. “They did?”

  “I was younger than you, but I remember after they died I felt uncomfortable in my home. Then one day I realized that their spirits still lived in those places they loved.”

  “They were ghosts?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. Every time I sat in my mother’s flower garden, I felt she was watching over me. And every time I sat in my father’s favorite chair, I could almost hear him speak to me.”

  “That’s why I want to have a portrait of Mama and Papa to hang in my bedroom so I can feel they can still see me.” Her mouth drew downward. “But I know I’m not good enough to paint their portrait. You did most of Edward’s portrait. Will you do most of Mama and Papa’s portrait?”

  “I’ve never copied from another painting, but I shall give it my best effort, and I’ll do it all myself. It’ll be a surprise to you.” At least she could make Sarah happy, though she feared that might be the only thing about this trip she’d not regret.

  The carriage jostled to a stop, awakening Gama. Cassandra answered her befuddled glance. “We’ve arrived, Gama.”

  “Lor, and not a moment too soon. I declare I’ve never been as stiff. I thought the journey would never end after that last posting inn.” Gama stretched out her blue-veined hands and grimaced.

  Lady Pugh stirred. “We made good time all the same.”

  The door opened, and Sarah jumped into the opening. “Don’t run, Sarah,” Lady Pugh admonished. She might have saved her breath. Sarah jumped to the ground before the footman got the steps in place and flew away like a thistle in the wind.

  Cassandra waited until the footman had assisted the older ladies to the ground. As soon as she stuck her head through the door, she caught sight of a carriage leaving the circular drive.

  Lady Pugh sent Cassandra a pointed glance over her shoulder. “It would seem your rival hasn’t given up the chase.”

  The audacity of Lady Ashford showing up before the duke arrived struck a nerve in Cassandra. She might not trust the man, and she might not stand a chance of winning him, but she wouldn’t stand aside and allow a woman of Lady Ashford’s ilk to get her talons in him.

  Daphne definitely viewed her to be a rival. She’d tried her best to dissuade Cassandra from coming to Langsdale. When Lady Pugh stopped helping her in her pursuit of the duke, Daphne had intrigued with Millicent and Harcrumb’s wife. She’d tried to turn Edward against her at every turn, even setting up that confrontation at the Harcrumb’s reception to destroy what remained of Cassandra’s reputation.

  Now Daphne had doubtless followed them to the country for the express purpose of finishing Cassandra off and continuing her pursuit of the duke.

  This was the outside of enough.

  If Daphne Ashford thought Cassandra was her rival, then she wouldn’t be disappointed.

  Cassandra would have to apologize to Edward for her outburst at the inn. He had said he was investigating her to help her. She’d accept that, whether it was true or not. Away from London, it should be easy to sway him from her activities in the Ton. She’d encourage his investigation into Lord Wayte’s death.

  Why hadn’t she thought of that before? And it was possible Edward would be more successful than that bumbling magistrate had been. It might be wishful thinking, but not impossible they could prove Harcrumb guilty. Only when a noose tightened around that devil’s neck would she feel safe.

  She joined Gama and Lady Pugh and followed the housekeeper to their chambers. Each lady had her own well-appointed room, and Cassandra was told hers adjoined Sarah’s. She didn’t know where the child had got off to.

  From what Cassandra had seen from the walk through the lofty foyer, up the curving stairs, and down the long hall, she liked the stately but homey feel of the house. The view from her bedroom window revealed a sweeping vista of gardens and meadows broken by the slow moving stream, and beyond to hills and dales dotted with cattle and sheep.

  Verity, the pretty maid assigned to her, helped Cassandra wash off the dust of the journey and change from her traveling gown to one of buttercup jaconet muslin made with a gored bodice and finished with a tucker of fine embroidery.

  After dismissing Verity, Cassandra joined the other ladies in Lady Pugh’s boudoir where they were served tea and pate sandwiches.

  Resisting the urge to go in search of Edward, Cassandra returned to her bedroom and reclined on the chaise lounge with a book. The French novel held little appeal, and within minutes her eyelids drooped.

  A sharp rapping at the communicating door drew her out of her nap. She wasn’t surprised to find Sarah waiting for her. “I hope I didn’t wake you.” The girl sallied into the room swinging a chip straw hat by its ribbons.

  “It’s of no account that you did. I’ve found napping ruins my sleep at night.”

  “I do too. I haven’t taken naps for years now.” Sarah went to the window. “Lil told me Lady Ashford is visiting at Waytefield. Why did she leave London?”

  Cassandra assumed Lil was one of the servants. “To pursue the duke, I would imagine.”

  Sarah spun around. “But I’ve been praying very hard that you marry Edward. It’s the desire of my heart.”

  Cassandra couldn’t help rolling her eyes. She crossed her arms. “You know we don’t always get the desire of our hearts no matter how hard we pray.” When the child frowned, she added, “But just because Lady Ashford pursues your brother, it doesn’t mean she’ll win him.”

  In a flash, Sarah’s frown turned into an impish grin. She lowered her voice as though to share a secret. “You’re going to fight for him, aren’t you?”

  Sarah certainly didn’t mince words. Cassandra hiked her chin and observed the girl from under her lashes. “Yes, I am. Whatever I can do to save your brother from Lady Ashford’s schemes, I’ll do.”

  She dropped her arms. “But Edward and I had an argument yesterday. He may not be inclined to listen to me.”

  “We’ll have to do something about that. I saw Edward with the gardeners a little while a
go. Come with me, and I’ll show you one of my favorite spots in the garden.”

  Cassandra laughed. “I’d like to see the garden.” She pulled a Norfolk shawl around her shoulders in case the air had grown chill.

  Sarah paused long enough to fling her hat onto the bed. “The sun’s almost gone. I won’t need a hat.”

  At the end of a long hallway and down another staircase, they exited by a side door. Sarah ran ahead to an enclosure of shrubbery and hibiscus. “Here it is.” She pointed through an opening in the shrubs.

  “It’s beautiful, Sarah. You have an artistic eye, and no mistake.” Cassandra peered at the picturesque landscape framed by the shrubs. Since the house was built on a hill, the water flowed below. A crook jutted out forming a small cove where ducks and swans glided over the water’s surface.

  Sarah sighed. “I wish I could paint it in watercolors.”

  Earthy scents permeated the air from the newly turned dirt of flower beds past the blooming season. “That would be perfect for this scene.”

  Cassandra looked about for the best place to set an easel and glimpsed a man striding toward them. Dressed to the nines in skin tight knee breeches and snug waistcoat, the gentleman’s neckcloth stretched in convoluted creases, while his starched collar points, touching his cheekbones, were so stiff he would be unable to look sideways without turning his whole body.

  He looked vaguely familiar.

  “Sir Ralph,” Sarah whispered.

  Of course, Daphne’s cousin. Cassandra recalled Lord Wayte introducing her to Sir Ralph as the owner of one of the adjoining estates.

  He came to a stop in front of her and swept out a huge silk handkerchief, then proceeded to wave it in the air in a series of descending swoops, bowing as he did so, until his nose almost reached the ground. She couldn’t decide whether he deliberately acted foolish or tried to impress her. She dipped a short curtsey, wondering what he was doing here.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. Daphne and I just arrived for supper.”

  “Lady Ashford has come to supper?” Sarah rolled her eyes, and Cassandra saw no need to admonish her.

  Sir Ralph laughed shortly. “The duke was gracious enough to invite us.” He clasped his hands behind him and sent a glance over the garden. “His grace has the most beautiful gardens.” He turned his attention back to her. One brow cocked, he swept a gaze over her in an almost vulgar way. “But your beauty puts them to shame, Lady Wayte.”

  Cassandra ignored his flattery. “We were studying a scene for Lady Sarah to sketch.”

  “Ah yes, the little artist. Daphne has told me what a miracle you’ve wrought to draw little Sarah out of her morose.”

  Daphne was highly unlikely to have said any such thing. Ready to dismiss him, Cassandra started to turn. “We’ll doubtless see you later.”

  Sir Ralph rocked back on his heels. “It’s indeed very kind and generous of you to give your attention to the child. I suppose his grace is very grateful.”

  Manners forced her to stop and let him finish, which he did with a haughty smile. “I know I should be very grateful.” The look he gave her was telling.

  It told her she wanted to have nothing to do with Sir Ralph.

  ***

  As Edward came from the stables, he heard voices. The groom informed him Daphne and Sir Ralph had arrived, and that set his teeth on edge. Supper wouldn’t be served for another hour and a half. Daphne’s orders. The woman knew no bounds. He caught sight of Cassandra and Sarah with Sir Ralph and quickened his steps.

  Edward had deliberately kept his distance from Cassandra since their argument at the inn. Experience had taught him to give an angry woman time to calm before approaching her. He hoped enough time had elapsed so he might reason with her.

  “There you are, Ralph. You should go to the stables and select your mount for the races.”

  “I have my own horse.”

  “Not for this event. I want an excuse to put my horseflesh through their traces.” Before Ralph could protest further, Edward turned to Sarah. “Show Sir Ralph to the stables, Sarah. Lady Wayte and I will be along in a bit.”

  “Of course, Edward.” Mischief danced in Sarah’s eyes. She grabbed Sir Ralph’s elbow. “This way, please.”

  With poor grace, Sir Ralph allowed himself to be dragged along.

  Edward turned to find Cassandra trying to hold her composure. A light teasing might be his best approach. “It seems you’ve found an admirer.”

  “I do hope not. I’m not in the market for admirers.”

  “Dreadfully sorry to hear that. You already have an admirer in me.”

  The tight features of her face visibly relaxed and a smile quivered her mouth. “I beg pardon for my outburst yesterday.” She threw her arms apart. “I have no excuse.”

  She made it easier than he could have hoped for. “You had every reason to be distraught. I should have confided in you earlier, but I hope you can trust me even after my blundering.”

  “I would like to.” Hesitation lingered in her voice.

  “Let’s take a turn around the grounds, and I’ll tell you what I have planned.”

  They followed a stone path that separated lawns turning from bright green to brown. How lovely it would be covered with winter snow. “You have a beautiful estate, Edward, so much more so than Waytefield.”

  “Waytefield was once prosperous. George Wayte drains the income as fast as it’s earned, but you knew that.” The path took them from the garden across a terraced area and down to the mere.

  Edward deemed them to be far enough from the house to speak of secrets. “Charles Galloway is coming Friday. As you know, he’s been conducting the investigation on my behalf. He’s attempting to expose Harcrumb’s part in Lucy’s murder.”

  She stopped in mid-stride to give him a searching glance. “You think he’s responsible?”

  “Charles will give us a report on what he’s discovered thus far.”

  “Us?”

  “I want you to be present, Cassandra. I don’t want you to think I have anything to hide from you.”

  She smiled and they continued to walk. “I want to have some plan ready for Charles to investigate the situation at Waytefield. I’ll need your help.”

  They halted at the water’s edge. “How?”

  “I’ll have to toddy up to Daphne so I can have access to Waytefield. Unless I miss my guess, she’ll extend an invitation to reciprocate for supper…and I’d like for you to be pleasant to Sir Ralph so you too might be invited.”

  He noticed her shudder. “You know the servants at Waytefield. Question them, revisit that night Lord Wayte died. I know you were too distraught at the time, especially when everyone was attacking you.”

  She stared at the drifting water where ducks played. “I don’t know that I can.” She breathed the words so low he barely heard her.

  “I know it’s asking much of you, but sometimes you have to face a situation to overcome your fears. Essie is still housekeeper. She’s Lil, our housekeeper’s sister.”

  “Essie is a dear if I remember correctly.” She shifted her gaze back to him and tilted her head. “Perhaps you are right. Fear has dogged me since Lord Wayte’s death. It’s time to face it.”

  Her bravado touched him, and his gaze lingered on her lips, reminding him of how soft and sweet they were. Desire mounted to kiss her, or at the least, take her hand, but that would be on the outside of proper decorum.

  If only he could convince her he could crush those who caused her fears. He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

  Now was the time to press his suit, but all of Lord Byron’s poems went out of his mind. His feelings were too deep to give voice to.

  “I pray you’ll trust me, Cassandra, and if not, at least trust God. We will defeat Harcrumb. I pledge my life to it.”

  She took his hand. “Oh, Edward, don’t say that. Harcrumb is very dangerous. Don’t take chances. I know you think he wouldn’t accost a duke, but he would attack Prinny himself
if it served his ends. If anything should happen to you because of me I couldn’t bear it.”

  Proper or not, he raised her gloveless hand and touched it to his lips. Then he let go of her and lifted his gaze. The lavender light of the waning sun turned her complexion to alabaster and her hair to gold. She was so beautiful his breath caught in his throat, and there in her deep blue eyes, he saw more than concern.

  She might have been irritated to discover he’d been spying on her, but she was willing to forgive.

  He’d make sure to keep her in his confidence in the future, though he sensed she wasn’t ready to confide in him. “I shall take great care, and when you see me playing host to Daphne, please know I’m thinking of you.”

  “And when you see me conversing with Sir Ralph, you may be assured I’m not enjoying it.” She wrinkled her pert nose. “His attempt to imitate Beau Brummel makes him appear false and haughty instead of charming.”

  Edward laughed. “If I thought there was a chance you might find Sir Ralph charming, I wouldn’t allow him to come near you.”

  Night insects began to hum, reminding him they should return to the house before he gave the gossips more reason to talk.

  Tongues were probably already wagging.

  Chapter 18

  After supper, Lady Pugh led the ladies to the drawing room, leaving the duke and Sir Ralph to their port. Lady Pugh beckoned from a red velvet settee, and Gama scurried to join her. Cassandra and Daphne sat as far apart as possible and still join in the conversation.

  “How long are you and Gama going to stay at Bath?” Cassandra directed the question to Lady Pugh when the silence grew uncomfortable.

  “For two months at least. We must return before the winter makes the roads impassable.”

  “Or we may stay through the winter,” Gama added.

  “But you must return before the Season.” Daphne picked at the puff sleeves of her gown and tittered. “I know the Season seems far off, but I’ve engaged a dressmaker to produce a whole new wardrobe.” She sent Cassandra a patronizing glance. “Doubtless you have no need of that, Lady Wayte. Your gown is quite outstanding, but I fear you were expecting a more formal occasion tonight. We are more casual in the country.”