Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1)

by Constance O'Banyon

“Oh, dearest,” Lady Mary said, brushing her cheek against Kassidy’s, “you are only growing into a woman— with a woman’s heart and a woman’s yearnings. That is nothing to be distressed about. I can tell you that older and wiser women than you have lost their hearts to that handsome Raile DeWinter.”

  “So his name is Raile—I never knew.” Kassidy traced the lacy pattern on her sleeve. “I am very confused about my feelings for him. But I can assure you I have not gone overnight from hate to love—but he is fascinating. Were you ever confused about your feelings for Uncle George?”

  “Yes—in a way. But George is different from Raile DeWinter. George is like a quiet stream flowing in a steady direction with purpose and serenity. Raile DeWinter is like a storm-tossed sea, caught up in turmoil and excitement. He is troubled and seeking and needs someone to bring serenity to his life.”

  “Yes, I feel that, too. It’s almost as if he’s alone, with no one to care for him.”

  “Perhaps, Kassidy, you could be the one to bring him the peace he seeks.”

  “No, Aunt Mary,” she said with regret, “it will not be I.”

  “Let’s forget about Raile DeWinter for the moment and put our heads together so we can come up with a plan to thwart your brother.”

  Henry’s voice was thick with fury as he faced his aunt. “I came for my sister, and I’ll not leave without her. I insist you have her and the . . . child made ready to leave immediately.”

  “Be reasonable, Henry,” Lady Mary pleaded, “Kassidy is still much too ill to travel. Allow her to remain here until she is stronger.”

  “To take her away now would be to court folly, Henry,” George added his advice to his wife’s. “Kassidy has been through a great deal.”

  “Yes, and had she stayed at home where she belonged, none of this would have happened to her.”

  Lady Mary glared at her nephew. “If I could lawfully keep Kassidy, I would do so.”

  Henry merely blinked. He knew his aunt did not hold him in high esteem, and he cared little for her opinion. “She will come home with me.”

  “What kind of life can she expect with you?” Lady Mary asked angrily. “Will she become your slave to clean and care for your children? And what about Abigail’s daughter—will you allow her to remain with Kassidy? I demand to know the answers.”

  Henry rose to his feet. “I answer to no one where my sister is concerned. If you don’t have her brought down at once, I’ll go up and get her.”

  Kassidy stood in the doorway, using the doorknob for support. “There is no need for trouble, Aunt Mary. I’m prepared to leave with my brother.”

  Henry moved slowly to Kassidy, his eyes raking her face and then her body. “Have you no greeting for me, sister dear?”

  “Hello, Henry,” she said dully.

  He turned to his aunt and uncle while he reached out and painfully gripped Kassidy’s shoulder. “You see how it is,” he said sarcastically, “my sister cannot wait to be back within the bosom of her family.”

  Lady Mary rushed forward and pulled Kassidy away from Henry. “We have failed, dearest. But have heart, I shall come for a visit as soon as possible.” She turned her attention to Henry. “I shall expect you to take the greatest care of her health, and the baby.”

  Henry looked down his nose at his aunt. She was far too outspoken for a woman, and nothing like his sweet, gentle mother. “I know my responsibility and will discharge it as I see fit.”

  There was sorrow in Lady Mary’s eyes as she hugged Kassidy. “Take heart. You are not alone.”

  Kassidy fought back her tears. “Yes, I know. I still have Abigail’s daughter.”

  Kassidy sat beside Henry as the carriage left London and headed into open country. Thus far, Henry had been sullen, hardly speaking, and Kassidy found that worse than if he had raged at her—but the rage would come later—she knew it would.

  She leaned back weakly against the headrest, and pulled the lap blanket around her.

  The wet nurse that Henry had engaged was seated across from them, and Henry had refused to look at the baby.

  At last Kassidy reached for Arrian and held her out for Henry’s inspection. “Henry, I don’t believe you have met your niece. I named her Arrian after our mother. Don’t you think she would have been pleased?”

  He glanced at the baby with blank eyes. “Give the child back to the nurse,” he said gruffly. “It’s not wise to get too attached to her.”

  Kassidy stared at him in trepidation. What could he mean by that? She dared not pursue the matter in front of the wet nurse; she would demand an explanation when they stopped for the night.

  After an hour, the coach halted before a modest posting inn. Kassidy made certain that Arrian and the nurse were settled in comfortably for the night before she went to Henry’s room. Her heart was beating with dread as she knocked on his door. Henry was not a forgiving man, and she knew he still harbored anger against her. She was sure he would vent that anger on her tonight.

  Henry wrenched open the door and indicated she was to sit in the straight-backed chair. When she was seated with her hands folded demurely in her lap, he began pacing restlessly as if deep in thought.

  At last he stopped in front of her, rocking back on his heels. “Well, Kassidy, you managed to get yourself in a fine mess. Had you and Abigail listened to me, she would still be alive today, and you would not have disgraced us all with your antics.”

  She was too weary for an argument. She ached all over, and was seized by moments of dizziness. “I’m sure what you say is true, Henry,” she concurred, hoping that would appease him.

  He looked at her suspiciously. It was unusual for Kassidy to agree with him. “You must also admit that you have been too long without benefit of a chaperon. No gentleman will want to marry you.”

  Her spirit returned in the form of rage, and she had no intention of telling him about the proposal from the duke. “I do so sorely beg your pardon, Henry, if you feel the proprieties have not been observed. Had I known I was going to spend so much time in Newgate, I might have arranged to have a chaperon with me while there.”

  “Just the kind of insolence I would expect from you, Kassidy. I don’t know why I bother with you at all, you ungrateful baggage.”

  “I believe you are right about no man of good family wanting to marry me if they knew about my unfortunate experiences at Newgate.”

  He stared at her long and hard, his hands balled into fists, the veins on his forehead bulging. “Just what did happen to you in that place?”

  She lowered her head, feeling for the first time the full impact of her shame. “I will not talk about it.”

  “You never want to talk to me. I should leave you to your own devices, and you would soon face the same tragic end as Abigail.”

  “I won’t discuss Abigail with you, Henry.”

  “No, but you’ll bring her brat to my home and expect me to raise it.”

  “I will take care of Arrian. She will be no trouble to you.”

  Henry poked his hands in his pockets and moved to the window, deep in thought. After a time, he turned back to Kassidy. “I believe Hugh DeWinter never married Abigail, no matter what Aunt Mary says.”

  Kassidy ached at his words. She had come to the same conclusion, herself, but she would not admit it to him. “Abigail thought they were married.”

  “If she had come to me and allowed me to guide her in this matter, she would not have—“

  “How dare you say this, Henry? You are such a hypocrite. Don’t you know you are to blame for much that happened to Abigail? She could not have come to you and asked your advice, because you would not have listened to her. You never allowed her to receive suitors, or to be with people her age. She lost her heart to the first man who showed her kindness.”

  “You could have stopped her from going away with him,” Henry accused.

  “Perhaps I could have, and in that I blame myself. At least Abigail had a few months of happiness, Henry, and that’s more than s
he ever had while living in your house.”

  Henry glared at her. “You strumpet! How dare you talk to me like this?”

  “I don’t intend to talk to you about anything, Henry.” She stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Go to bed,” he said sourly. “But think on this before you sleep. I have already made arrangements to place Arrian in a foundling home in Brighton.”

  Kassidy’s head snapped up and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, no, you aren’t, Henry. I will never allow you to take the baby from me. How could you even consider doing such a monstrous act against one of your own flesh and blood?”

  “Patricia and I discussed this before I left for London, and we both agree that we don’t want our girls exposed to an illegitimate child, and certainly not in their own home.”

  “We don’t know for sure that they weren’t married. And I fail to see how an innocent baby could corrupt anyone.”

  “It took much convincing to get Patricia to allow you to return. She is certain you are an unsettling influence on our daughters.”

  “I’m not a fool, Henry. Patricia will be glad to have me take over the housekeeping again. How did you manage while I was away?” Kassidy asked with anger.

  “I would expect you to show disrespect for the woman who gave you a home since Mother and Father died.”

  “If you had allowed me to remain with Aunt Mary, she would have been happy to give me and Arrian a home.”

  “It’s settled, Kassidy. You will come with me, and the baby goes to Brighton.”

  Kassidy felt her legs tremble with weakness, and the floor started spinning around her. She must not become ill—not now. She had to be strong for the sake of the baby.

  “I will not allow you to take Arrian away from me. I’ll fight you on this, Henry.”

  He eyed her haughtily. “You have no say in the matter.”

  Kassidy saw the satisfied curl to his lips. Henry was enjoying torturing her. “Do you hate me so much, Henry, that you will take from me the one I love most in the world?”

  “I find that I derive some satisfaction from disciplining you, Kassidy,” he admitted. “You are headstrong and willful. I always said I would break you, and I shall.”

  Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. “You will never do that, Henry. It would take a stronger man than you to bring me down.”

  His eyes suddenly lost their hardness, and he came to her. With a gentleness that surprised her, he touched her cheek. “It doesn’t have to be this way between us, Kassidy.”

  She stared at him in puzzlement. He had never spoken to her in such a soft tone. Was that spirits she smelled on his breath? Henry never drank. Why was he acting so strangely?

  His hand moved to her hair and tangled in a curly blond lock. “Whenever you have defied me, I have admired you for it, while wanting to punish you as well. While you were away, I searched for you for days. When I learned Abigail was dead and you were missing, I could not grieve for her, because of my distress for you.”

  She pushed his hand away and took a quick step back, still too stunned to speak.

  He ran trembling hands through his hair while his eyes brightened with tears. “I’m obsessed with you, and I hate you for it. You are evil—a seductress.”

  Kassidy edged toward the door. “Dear God, you are mad, Henry. I’m your sister.”

  “Yes,” he said, burying his head in his hands. “You have driven me to this state.”

  Kassidy felt sick inside. “I have done nothing to you. I don’t even like you.”

  He looked at her with the old anger. “Get out, Kassidy—go to your room. But you will find that the baby is already on the way to Brighton with the wet nurse.”

  Kassidy turned quickly to the door and wrenched it open. She fled into the hallway, crying out Arrian’s name. She rushed into the room where she had left Arrian and found it empty.

  Frantically she ran to the stairs, where she could view the front of the inn through a high window. When she saw the nurse climbing into a carriage with the baby, she cried out in desperation, but no one heard her. Her head was spinning, and she had to clutch the bannister tightly as she made her way downstairs.

  By the time she reached the road, the carriage had already pulled away, and Kassidy could only watch helplessly as it moved out of sight.

  With a feeling of defeat, she moved to the side of the inn and leaned against the brick wall, staying in the shadows so Henry could not find her. She was too weary to move, and too heartsick to cry.

  She stood there for a long time, not knowing what to do or where to go. She would never return to the inn because there was something twisted about Henry’s attitude toward her. If only she never had to see him again.

  Slowly reason returned, and Kassidy realized she had to take action. She looked across the cobblestone street where several men were loading a wagon with fresh vegetables. She heard one of the men mention he was going to London.

  Feeling so weak she could hardly walk, Kassidy managed to cross the street and approach the man sitting in the drivers’ seat.

  “Please, kind sir,” she said in a soft voice, “I have no money, but will you please take me to London with you?”

  Seeing the desperation in the girl’s eyes, the man nodded. “I’ll let ya’ ride along, miss, and glad for the company.”

  Gratefully she allowed him to assist her onto the wagon seat. She huddled beneath the blanket he tossed her. Kassidy did not feel safe from Henry until they pulled away from the village.

  She could not return to Aunt Mary, because Henry would only find her there and force her to go with him.

  Her eyes filled with hopeless tears. There was only one person who could help her now—only one person Henry would never dare defy.

  Kassidy would seek the aid of Raile DeWinter.

  20

  The butler was ill and had retired to his bed hours ago; therefore, it was Oliver who answered the knock on the door with irritation at the late caller. His irritation turned to concern when he recognized Miss Maragon, who appeared to be terribly upset.

  “I must see the duke at once,” she said, taking a ragged breath. “It’s most urgent.”

  “Come into the private study, Miss Maragon. I’ll fetch his grace.”

  Wearily, Kassidy sat on the wide leather chair, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. The duke would help her—she was sure of it.

  Raile sat at the head of his table, his arm draped about the shoulder of Gabrielle Candeur, while the two of them presided over a party that was lasting well into the morning hours.

  “To the handsomest couple in all London, our host and hostess,” Lord Justin Callaret announced, raising his glass for a toast.

  Gabrielle looked up lovingly at Raile, aching inside because there was only admiration in his eyes when he looked at her. She had contrived and schemed to become his mistress, and now that she was, she wanted more from him. But Raile would never give his heart to her, and perhaps not to any woman.

  “And to the brightest star to grace the London stage in decades,” Lord Justin continued, as he winked at Gabrielle. “Whose silver voice captured the most sought-after bachelor in town.”

  Raile placed his wineglass down, and when a servant would have refilled it, he waved him away. “Your glib tongue runs away with you tonight, Justin,” Raile said, finding he was weary of this party. “Perhaps we should—“

  He was interrupted when Oliver bent to whisper in his ear. Coming to his feet, Raile apologized to his guests, explaining that he must leave them for a moment. “Go on with the party.”

  There was a pout on Gabrielle’s lips. “Do not stay away long.”

  When Raile entered the study, Kassidy came weakly to her feet. “Your grace,” she said, “please help me.”

  Just as he reached her, Kassidy crumpled, and he lifted her into his arms. Placing her on the sofa, he motioned for Oliver to bring him a glass of sherry. When Kassidy tried to rise, he aided her.

  “What has h
appened, Miss Maragon?”

  “Please help me, your grace. My brother has taken Arrian away from me. You must get her back—you said you would always be interested in her welfare, so I came to you.”

  Oliver handed Raile a glass, which Raile raised to Kassidy’s lips. “Drink this, and perhaps it will calm you. Then you can tell me what has happened.”

  She took a sip and shoved it away, feeling its warmth spread inside her. “Henry has sent the baby away to a foundling home in Brighton. You must save her—she’s your niece also.”

  “When did this happen?”

  Kassidy looked at the clock on the mantel. “They will have had six hours’ start.”

  Raile turned to Oliver. “Have the coach made ready, and you go to Brighton at once. Bring the baby back here.”

  Without hesitating, the valet nodded. “It will be as you say, your grace.”

  “And, Oliver, give my regrets to my guests and ask them to leave.”

  Kassidy came to her feet. “Oh, you are entertaining, your grace. It is I who should leave.”

  “You will do nothing of the kind.” He nodded to Oliver, and the valet hurried from the room to do his bidding.

  Kassidy’s eyes shone with gratitude as she sank into the soft chair. “Will those in authority at the foundling home allow your man to take Arrian?”

  “Let me assure you Oliver is most persuasive. He will bring her safely back to you.”

  Kassidy took his hand. “I will always be grateful to you, your grace. I don’t know what I would do without Arrian.”

  Her hair was tangled about her face, her gown was wrinkled, and there was a black smudge on her cheek. He could only imagine what she had been through to bring her to such a state.

  “I can’t return to my brother.” There was real terror in her eyes. “He will find me wherever I am.”

  “Why are you so afraid of your brother?”

  “I . . . we do not always agree and Henry is a little mad. I can never forgive him for taking Abigail’s baby away from me.”

  “Then I believe your best solution is to marry me, Miss Maragon. Your brother cannot touch you as long as you are my wife.”