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

by Elaine Manders

  “What are you saying?”

  “Merely this. I shall marry Edward and look the other way when he takes you for his mistress. Many of our class does thus to the advantage of all.” Daphne smiled. “Are you surprised I should suggest such a thing? I accept life as it comes, as you must. Think of the alternative. Edward marries some debutant foisted upon him by one of his peers, and when he turns to you, his wife is distraught. A distraught wife can cause all manner of trouble.”

  “Whereas you would not?”

  “As I’ve said, I accept the inevitable. Edward loves you. Nothing will change that.”

  Cassandra paced to a bureau, rearranging the figures that sat atop, as if that was of great importance. As Daphne wanted to rearrange their lives to fit the circumstances. It must seem perfectly logical to her, but it wasn’t acceptable to Cassandra. Nor, she was persuaded, to Edward.

  “Another thing you should consider.” Daphne pulled her attention away from the bureau. Cassandra stared into the woman’s confident blue eyes. “By not marrying, you will retain your wealth and your independence. An intelligent woman will consider such things.”

  “Your plan is well thought out, Daphne. I congratulate you for being so foresighted, but you forget one thing. I love Edward, and because I love him, I want him to be the noblest, most respected man in the realm. He would not be if he kept a mistress.”

  Daphne clutched her hands at her sides. “I’ve tried to reason with you.”

  “Reason carries no weight with the heart. I knew that I couldn’t marry Edward before you presented your generous offer. But you will not marry him either. If my weight carries favor with him, and it does, I’ll never allow it. Edward will marry a woman worthy of him and his position, someone who will love him as a man—not as a duke.”

  Daphne laughed, a shrill sound that set the light to flickering. “You are going to choose his wife?”

  “I’ll do all I can to insure he finds a worthy mate, and you haven’t a feather to fly with. Lady Pugh agrees with me that you’re not worthy. But it matters not what I or Lady Pugh think. Edward will marry a woman who pleases his God.”

  Daphne clenched and unclenched her hands as her bosom heaved. “Do you think I’d allow you…you, an insignificant…peasant to toward my plans? You don’t want to be friends.” She threw her head back. “Very well, we are enemies, and when Edward and I are wed, I’ll not allow you to come within a mile of him.” She flung open the door and slammed it after her.

  Cassandra stood still, trying to understand what had happened. Despite everything, a sense of victory stayed with her. She’d faced her fears and won.

  As quickly as the flame of a candle in a gust of wind vanishes, her elation turned to darkness. She’d lost Edward.

  No, she’d never had Edward. Of a certainty, she could believe he cared enough for her to flaunt society. She even dared hope he could forget her horrible past once he discovered the details. But none of that matter. Harcrumb would find a way to kill him.

  The only way to prevent that would be to leave.

  If I can’t have you, no other man will. Harcrumb might be the devil himself, but he kept his word.

  Yet she had at least one more day with Edward. He was going to take her riding on a tour of the estate tomorrow. She’d savor every minute of it, knowing it might be their last day together.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her palm to her chest. As if the pressure of her hand could keep her heart from cracking in two.

  Chapter 22

  Edward took his riding gloves from Simpkins and lifted his gaze to the top of the stairs. From the landing Cassandra smiled, sending a gut punch to his stomach.

  She glided down the staircase like a queen. Her riding habit with green Hussar jacket and deeply frogged sleeves set off her lithe figure to perfection. Golden elflocks peeked from under a pert riding hat tied under her chin with frothy chiffon, while a green feather dipped on one side.

  He couldn’t remember looking more forward to a ride. With no responsibilities for once and fine weather, he waited for her with all the giddy anticipation of a bridegroom on his wedding day. Perhaps a moment would present itself today for him to propose.

  “Are you feeling well this morning?” He wouldn’t refer to last night’s encounter with Sir Ralph.

  “I am. I slept better than in a long time, and nothing puts me in a better mood than a morning ride.”

  With the lightest touch, he pressed the small of her back. “Glad to hear it.” They strode to the door Simpkins held open.

  Edward hung back to address the butler. “Essie will be paying Lil a visit this afternoon. Tell Essie Lady Wayte and I wish to have a word with her before she leaves.”

  He caught up with Cassandra. “I have a surprise waiting for you.”

  She stopped, and the glance she sent him was one of delight. From the depths of his memory, he recalled his father saying, “Making your mother happy is the greatest pleasure of my life.” He could understand his father better with each passing day.

  “What? Will I like it?” Her breathless tone made him want to drag this out.

  “I think you will. Stay here.” He left her standing on the cobblestone drive.

  When he returned, she had her back to him, but as soon as the horses’ hooves sounded on the cobbles, she swung around. Her hands flew up as her mouth dropped open. Then she was racing to him—or rather, to the horse.

  “Snowfire.” Cassandra flung her arms around the regal mare’s neck, and the animal reciprocated by nuzzling her.

  Edward stood aside, giving the horse and owner time to become reunited.

  At length, Cassandra turned her attention to him, tears glistening in her beautiful eyes. “Edward, I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Of course, I’ll pay you whatever it took.”

  “It cost me nothing. Snowfire was included in a land purchase with George Wayte.” That wasn’t exactly true. The land became more expensive because of the horse, but he didn’t want her to have to buy back what belonged to her anyway.

  Before he realized what happened, Cassandra barreled into him, her arms around his middle, her head on his shoulder. “I can’t find the words to thank you enough,” she murmured.

  He could do nothing but close his arms around her and breathe her perfume as love and desire ebbed and flowed.

  They both seemed to realize how they must appear to any who looked their way and jerked back out of the embrace at the same time.

  Edward slapped his hands together to break the awkward moment. “Let’s get saddled and be on our way.”

  Before Cassandra stepped into the stirrup, she inspected Snowfire’s injuries. Edward came up behind her. “My groom is treating her. She’ll be well within a week or so.” He lifted Cassandra into the saddle and waited for her to adjust her habit before mounting his black stallion.

  What a match they made. He on the black stallion, the beautiful blonde woman on the pure white mare. They were surely made for each other. He glanced overhead as if seeking approval. The weather couldn’t have been better if ordered for the day, though clouds scudding across the sky promised rain by evening.

  They rode past fields of wheat and rye waving in the breeze like waves on the sea, waiting for harvest. Neat farm houses, barns, and corrals rested in a landscape surrounded by lush pastures of grazing sheep. The beauty of the land twisted Edward’s heart, but it begged to be shared. With her.

  After a while the horses lost their freshness and came to a canter, allowing for conversation. Cassandra gave him a curious, sidelong glance. “Tell me about your parents.”

  “My father spent much of his time in London at court, but Mother preferred the country always.”

  “Ministering to the tenants?”

  He smiled as the memories flooded back. “Yes, I’ve already mentioned that she managed the estate charities, but she did much more than is normally expected. The children of the tenants were adequately served by an excellent grammar school my grandfather estab
lished many years ago.”

  Cassandra reached forward to give Snowfire a pat. “Our squire provided schooling of a sorts for his tenants’ children. When I was on the farm, I went to the village school where we learned to read and write, do our sums, and memorize our prayers.” She laughed. “But what else would we need for our station in life?” Her voice held no contempt. She was merely stating a fact.

  “My mother didn’t think our school adequate for the girls. She understood when the boys reached an age to be useful to the farm or to learn a trade, they were settled. But Mother established a form of finishing school for the farmers’ daughters. There they acquire the rudiments of good manners, dancing ability, musical skills, an acquaintance with good literature and geography. Even a smattering of French and Italian.”

  “Truly? Then that explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “My maid, Verity, speaks in an exceptionally well educated voice.”

  His mouth twitched into an amused smile. “She won’t be with us long. Even without dowries, most of the estate’s young women eventually marry merchants and tradesmen, some even untitled aristocrats. Thanks to my mother, they all know how to conduct themselves in society.”

  “What you tell me confirms my thoughts. Since I’ve been painting your parents’ portrait, I feel I know them.” They entered a tree lined path and the smell of cedar permeated the air.

  “Have you finished the portrait?” he asked.

  “Almost.”

  He opened his mouth with another question, but she forestalled him. “No you cannot see it before Sarah does, and I shan’t give it to her until her birthday.”

  “Which will be tomorrow. It hardly seems possible.”

  She pushed the wind whipped tendrils of her hair back under her hat. “You promised to show me the theatre your mother built.”

  “I did, and it isn’t far.” He urged his stallion forward and she followed.

  ***

  The theatre was a squat, white-washed wooden building with gingerbread trim. Cassandra waited until Edward assisted her from the saddle. She could have managed by herself, but she enjoyed the feel of his strong hands on her waist. The experience of letting a man help her was new and rather pleasant. She let him tether her horse too.

  The sound of voices hushed as they entered the building. People were gathered in knots around the auditorium. “They were warned we were coming,” Edward whispered to her. “So they’ve gathered to greet us.”

  “They gathered to meet you,” she said, reminding him these people wouldn’t likely know who she was. And for that, she was grateful.

  An old man pottered toward them and bowed low. “Binkman at your service, your grace, your ladyship.”

  “I haven’t been here since…well, in a long time.” Edward had been about to say since his mother died. Cassandra was so in tune she could read his mind. This place must hold bittersweet memories for him.

  Simpkins pointed toward two women in the back. “My wife, Nance, Mrs. Larkins, and I are working on a production for next month. I hope you can attend, your grace.”

  “I hope so too.” Edward sent Cassandra a smile. “Binkman, I’d like you to meet Lady Wayte. She’s volunteered to help Mrs. Larkins with her performers. Lady Wayte is familiar with the theatre at Mayfair and Vaux Hall Gardens.”

  A matronly woman ambled forward, dipped a curtsey and clasped her hands together. “We’d be pleased to have your advice, m’lady.” The woman had a habit of nodding and smiling as she spoke, and she did both as she continued. “We’re preparing for Romeo and Juliet, but it’s a struggle.”

  “Shakespeare? I love Shakespeare.” Cassandra smiled with pleasure. “I should be delighted to work with you in any way I can. I’ve learned a little of what’s required to put on a play.” Her association with Jane Vernon had taught her that much.

  A shade of worry settled in Mrs. Larkins’ features. “We lost our Juliet and haven’t found a replacement as yet.”

  Edward’s gaze swung from Cassandra to Mrs. Larkins. “I recall the incident. Farmer Garth’s daughter, wasn’t it? But I’m certain somewhere on an estate as large as Langsdale you’ll find another suitable young lady for a fair Juliet.” He turned to Binkman. “While the ladies discuss the play, I’m at your disposal for you to show me those plans for the addition.”

  Cassandra watched until they’d disappeared behind a curtain. The name Garth called to mind Hilda Garth. Was she the farmer’s daughter, Mrs. Larkins referred to? A missive had arrived from Scotland, letting her know the girls arrived safely.

  “I suppose his grace is right.” Mrs. Larkins was back to smiling and bobbing her little gray head. “But I wish Hilda hadn’t run off. She was so intelligent and pretty, but head-strong. More’s the pity.”

  The similarity couldn’t be ignored. Cassandra felt her throat go dry. “Why did she run off?” But she knew the answer. Harcrumb had sent his cronies out looking for comely young women to service his brothels.

  “An actress came from London, looking for talented girls for Vaux Hall Gardens. She singled Hilda out and filled her head with all manner of…things.” Mrs. Larkins lowered her voice. “And would you believe that girl hasn’t contacted her family in all this time. Their letters have gone unanswered. Why, her mother is vastly worried.”

  A light came into Mrs. Larkins’ eyes. “Since you know the London theatres, would you make inquiries into Hilda Garth’s whereabouts?”

  Cassandra’s heart raced, and she strove to keep the panic out of her voice. “I…I’ve been acquainted with Hilda. You may tell her parents she’s safe.” Safe, but left in tatters.

  “Oh, but it does my heart good to hear that.” Mrs. Larkin’s brows furrowed. “Lady Wayte, you look pale. May I get you a spot of tea? Would you care to find a seat?”

  “No…no, thank you. I believe I should get a breath of fresh air. May we meet another time about the performance? If you please, tell the duke I’ll be waiting outside.”

  All she wanted to do was run, get away to think, but as she turned, another question surfaced. “You say an actress came for Hilda. Who was the actress?”

  Mrs. Larkin pursued her lips. “I don’t recall her name, but she had red hair, dressed rather garish, but I suppose that’s normal for an actress.” She raised her voice as she called to Mrs. Binkman who sat working on costumes by the stage. “Oh, Lydia, who was that actress who persuaded Hilda Garth to go to London? You spoke to her.”

  “I remember well. Her name was Jane Vernon.”

  Cassandra stared at the stage curtain, wanting to call Edward, but shock had knocked the breath down her windpipe. She ran out the building, straight to Snowfire. Hugging the horse’s head, as much for support as comfort, she wept.

  She’d been duped. All her carefully laid plans to snatch those girls from the brothels were for naught. The care she’d taken to insure secrecy was wasted. No wonder so many were found and dragged back.

  Jane had scoured the countryside for girls to lure into Harcrumb’s brothels. She’d arranged with the brothels matrons to ‘sell’ the girls to Cassandra. They’d taken her money. Then Jane had sent thugs to force them back to something worse. For all Cassandra knew they were all in it together—Jane, the matrons, Harcrumb.

  Lucy. She had unwittingly sent Lucy to her death. No wonder Harcrumb knew where Lucy was.

  Anxiety heightened as she realized all those women sheltered in Lord Wayte’s safe house were in danger. She had to return to London post haste.

  The only bright thought, Hilda was safe. Because Cassandra had made the decision to send Hilda and her friend to Scotland at the last moment, Jane didn’t know where they were.

  Quivering like an exposed nerve, she clung to Snowfire until she heard approaching footstep.

  Concern stamped Edward’s features. “Cassandra, what happened? Did Mrs. Larkins say something to upset you?”

  She stared at him, trying to collect her wits. “She unknowingly revealed something that cha
nges everything. I must return to London today.”

  “Come over here.” He clamped a hand on either of her shoulders and guided her to where a bench stood at the trunk of an elder tree.

  She staggered onto the bench, and he sat beside her, hunching forward with his hands resting on his knees. She forced her gaze to meet his eyes. “I know where Hilda Garth is.”

  Perplexity showed in his stare, then questions. “Farmer Garth’s daughter? Where is she?”

  “She’s safe at present.”

  “Then she should be brought home.”

  “No, it’s best that she not come home yet. She’s not ready.” Hilda needed time to heal away from the pitying or condemning eyes of family and friends.

  “I have some responsibility, Cassandra. The Garths are my tenants.”

  “I understand, but Hilda isn’t in danger, all the others are.”

  “What others?”

  She was a little surprised he didn’t already know since he’d been investigating her. The Bow Street runners must have reported her business dealings at the least. “One of Lord Wayte’s charities was a textile plant and clothier where the destitute were employed. Women who escaped the brothels became seamstresses, but many left and returned to the brothels, at least that’s what Jane Vernon told me.”

  “The actress? How was she involved?”

  “She helped me spirit those women away. Some I sent to various homes and establishments as servants, but most went to the plant.”

  His brows drew together, telling her he didn’t understand. “I just learned Jane is likely sending men to force the women back to the brothels. I don’t believe they’re leaving of their own accord.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “Because Jane lured Hilda to the Green Duck, one of London’s worst brothels.”

  “You mean Hilda Garth is in a brothel?”

  She shook her head. “Not now. I got her out.” She wouldn’t tell him why she took Hilda, not yet. “I sent her to a respectable posting inn in Scotland. Jane doesn’t know that, so she won’t be sending someone to kidnap her.”