Chapter One
Early March 1821
Brambly Fields
Somerset
Lord Evan Haddington, the Marquess of Berkshire, watched his ward, Miss Cassandra Grove, gallop across the crisp, frosty field at full speed, her body nearly prostrate over the back of her mare, Marigold, as she rode astride. He knew she was aware of the hedgerow looming ahead of her and watched as she and the horse took the hedge as one, leaping over the obstacle with ease before continuing on their mad pace. He also knew that beneath her hat, her auburn tresses were likely tied tightly in a bun that did little to flatter her heart-shaped face or the cupid's bow of a mouth some evil force of nature had blessed her with. Her moss green eyes, the very same ones that were peculiarly flecked with spots of brown and copper, were likely closed as she concentrated on the feel of the huge animal beneath her, just as he had taught her.
She was a firebrand, his Cassandra. If only he knew what to do with her. For they both understood they could not go on like this much longer.
Finally, Cassandra unbent her voluptuous form and pulled lightly on the reins. Marigold began to slow instantly, her powerful body easing to a gentle canter just before the treeline. With another soft tug, Cassandra had the horse turned around and headed back in his direction next to the bramble bushes where Evan stood watching the two of them with his own mount, Thor, munching the frozen grass by his side.
Evan was also very well aware that once Cassandra reached his side, she would slide off the mare's back with ease and offer him a smile that would all but seduce any other man with a pulse. With another woman, he might worry that she would be unable to remount Marigold or that he would have to assist her, perhaps a ploy on her part so that he might lay hands upon her delightful body, his touch lingering a moment too long to be proper.
A touch here... A caress there...
Not Cassandra, however. She was a horsewoman of the finest class, much to his surprise. She had also made it clear a thousand times over that she did not find him attractive in the least, especially not as most other women did. That was a very good thing, he had long since decided. Especially since there was a part of him that desired her very much - a part of himself that Evan considered to be nothing short of a madman unable to control his urges. Even if the chit was delightful to look at and far more desirable than he had once given her credit for being.
In fact, Evan had discovered that there was much to like and desire about Cassandra in the not-quite-a-year that she had been his ward - however unlikely that had seemed after those first few miserable weeks together. Looking back, he was surprised that they had not torn each other's throats out in those early days. He had been new to the marquisate and determined to prove that he, previously a mere baron of the lowest sort, was deserving of the raised social standing his uncle's death had heaped upon him. He had always been strong and decisive but never cruel. At least not until he had become Berkshire. There were times over the last year that he had thought the title cursed, just as many had whispered over the years, but eventually, Evan had settled into his title and his new life. Rather well actually, he thought.
As Cassandra had settled into hers.
In those early days, she had been just as determined as he to prove that she was, in fact, the niece of the late Marchioness of Berkshire. That, of course, was something that Evan had never disputed. After all, the sad and twisted family tale of the young Ellie Reynolds who had eventually become the previous Lord Berkshire's bride was well known throughout the ton. That Ellie had a significantly older sister who had brought a degree of shame to the family by marrying a rather shy and retiring member of the local gentry in Essex with the last name of Grove was not a secret either. Nor was the birth of their only child, Cassandra, even though said child was rarely seen, even back in Little Bromley, since the babe was rumored to have been quite ill since birth.
Oh, there were those who still believed - or at least pretended to - that Cassandra was not really of Reynolds blood at all. Instead, they claimed that when Lady Elizabeth Reynolds had wed Mr. Elias Grove, Cassandra had already been born and that she was, in fact, the newborn infant of Mr. Grove and his whore of a lover had died in childbirth.
Still others claimed to know for certain that Lady Elizabeth was already with child when she had wed Mr. Grove and that Cassandra was really the daughter of a poor stable hand who had once worked for the old Duke of Hathaway, Elizabeth's uncle - which of course made Cassandra a Reynolds by blood, but only just, and even then, a creature to be hidden away in shame so that no shadow might fall across the powerful and venerated Reynolds family name. Such as it was back then, anyway.
Evan, however, did not believe any of those tall tales. He never had, not even when he was only a baron, for he valued truth and logic greatly. He knew the truth and had for some time, so the matter of Cassandra's birth was never truly up for debate in his opinion.
What was up for debate was why Ellie had summoned Cassandra - who had already gone through a brief Season of her own many years before - to London a few weeks before the marchioness' untimely passing in the first place. He was also wondering why the marchioness had felt entitled to leave half of The Gray Ladies, an organization that provided chaperones to young Society ladies who did not have the good fortune to have a female relative who could fill that role, to her young niece. Or if the letters to Cassandra from Ellie, many of the last ones written in the form of a will, were even valid.
After all, as a rule, noble women did not own property, though they could, certainly. Such a thing was just not all that common, however. Additionally, there was some debate about whether or not Ellie had even owned the Gray Ladies outright, meaning without Berkshire's name attached to the undertaking, and even now, unfortunately, the issue was no closer to resolution than it had been a year ago.
For her part, Cassandra refused to give up her claim on the Gray Ladies, even though Evan had made her many counteroffers over the last year. In fact, last October he had become so frustrated with her that he had offered her the return of her home in Essex, the venerable Ivy Cottage, with the addition of a large amount of acreage as an added bonus, in exchange for her giving up her claim. As expected, she had refused. Just as Evan refused to give up his claim on the Ladies, either. Or return Ivy Cottage, even though he had no particular use for it, either.
He couldn't do either of those things, much as he might like to - and as of late, he truly wished to return both the Ladies and the cottage to Cassandra. Yet he could not. At least not until he married. If he gave them away beforehand? Well, that might invalidate his uncle's will and leave the marquisate to another, more distant cousin, a Mr. Roger Follett who enjoyed a rather abominable reputation.
Evan could not allow that to happen. Too many people - including the sometimes altogether too stubborn Miss Cassandra Grove - depended upon him for their livelihoods. If Follett became Berkshire? Well, then a good number of people would be destined for the workhouse - or worse. The man had run through his portion of the Berkshire fortune in a little over eight months. There was no doubt in Evan's mind that if Follett got his grubby hands on the rest of the Berkshire fortune, the funds would be depleted within a year. Two at best. So no, Evan could not do anything that might endanger his claim to the title.
For the sad truth was, Evan was Berkshire - and yet not. In the days after he had assumed the title, he had come to learn that his uncle's will was rife with conditions, little tricks and hidden clauses that Evan could know nothing about. His Uncle Moses hadn't wanted Evan to become the next marquess. However until the previous Lord Berkshire could produce an heir of his own, Evan was considered "the best of the whole rotten lot" out of the mass of extended family relations and had been dubiously - and rather grouchily, if the wording in the will was any indication - chosen as the heir. However, that honor came with conditions - some of which his uncle's will forbid Evan from knowing about until he met one final condition. One designed to make certain that the Berkshire line con
tinued. Before he could fully take charge of the marquisate, Evan had to find a bride and marry. He did not have to produce an heir immediately, but he did have to find a wife.
Unfortunately, Franklin, the solicitor whom Evan had inherited along with the title and everything else that encompassed Berkshire, had also hinted on numerous occasions that there were any number of ways that Evan could lose the title until that happy and blessed day of Evan's wedding occurred. The man wasn't allowed to give specifics, of course, but he had mentioned that the ways Evan could be stripped of the title were numerous. Unorthodox, perhaps, but also, sadly, not illegal.
Since Evan did not know what move or decision might reduce him to a baron once more, over the last year, he had taken to allowing everything to continue along just as it had under his uncle's rule as marquess. He changed nothing and made no decisions of his own. That included not handing over the Gray Ladies to Cassandra, no matter how much he might wish to do so. For despite what she believed, he did wish to be rid of the lot of troublesome females.
He had no use for the group of aging spinster women who shepherded the chaperone-less women of Society about London during the Season. In fact, he would be glad to be rid of the entire lot of them. However, he also had no idea if taking that action would cost him the marquisate. Nor did he know if explaining his actions to Cassandra, even in private, would have the same result.
So, therefore, Evan did nothing. He allowed Berkshire to hum along just as it had when his uncle was alive, making no changes, but no improvements either, and the Berkshire country seat, Brambly Fields, was in desperate need of some improvements. All of which was maddening in its own way. As was the fact that, despite his rantings and ravings when they first met, Evan could not cast aside Cassandra in any way, shape or form. Until he wed and could do as he pleased, Cassandra was his responsibility, whether he liked it or not.
To be fair, most of the time, Evan didn't really mind having Cassandra as his ward. In fact, he might even go so far as to say that he found her company enjoyable these days. Oh, in the beginning they had fought like cats and dogs to be certain, neither willing to give an inch on any matter. However, such a level of animosity could only be sustained for so long, especially when two people lived in the same house, and by the time they had retreated to Brambly Fields the previous summer, Evan and Cassandra had come to an unsteady - but workable - truce of sorts.
She still referred to him as "The Dragon" on occasion and he had long since dubbed her "The Queen," for she acted as if she ruled everything in his life including him, though he did not use that name much any longer. Instead, they had bonded a bit over horses during the long, hot previous summer. When Cassandra had shown herself to be an excellent horsewoman, Evan had used that shared interest, no matter how small, to build upon relations between them. Now, on mornings such as this, when the sun was just up and sparkling brightly on the frosty earth, making the entire scene appear like a fairy forest, he could almost forget the uneasiness that still lay between them. Almost.
"Excellent form, Cassandra," Evan said as she pulled to a stop next to him before sliding easily from her mount, her rich blue velvet riding habit catching the morning light and making her seem as if she was lit from within by fire.
She gave Marigold a loving pat. "It was acceptable, but I have done better. I am simply glad that we are alone." Then she gave him one of her sly grins, the sort she might grace to a husband but had gifted to him for the moment instead. "And that you have finally agreed to allow me to ride astride. It is ever so much easier."
"And not at all proper." Evan shook his head with a sigh and a grin of his own, the sort an indulgent husband might give a wife - which was sometimes precisely the way Cassandra behaved in his presence. He should not allow her to ride astride even when they were alone, but she had been pestering him for weeks about the issue and he had finally consented to her wishes. It was either that or argue with her again, and he found that he was growing increasingly weary of arguing with her. "Still, we are alone, so I suppose there is no harm."
When Cassandra offered him a cheeky grin, Evan found that he had to laugh along with her. "Ah, there is my dragon," she teased back. "This riding astride business is not so very scandalous, Evan. Not when we are alone." Her casual use of his Christian name might come as a shock to some, but the two of them had decided long ago that formality between them was utter nonsense. Their situation was unique, for lack of a better word, and to address each other with such forced formality seemed silly. Especially after the first time she had slipped up and called him "The Dragon" directly to his face. After that? Well, "Evan" and "Cassandra" seemed a bit more appropriate for their situation.
"One of these days, Queen, you will slip up and refer to me by that horrid nickname in public." Evan watched her as she tied up Marigold next to Thor with practiced ease.
"Or I will not," she replied with a sunny smile. "In which case, you have nothing to worry about. Besides, everyone knows you are a dragon." She wrinkled her nose. "Well, the gentleman do anyway. As for how the ladies refer to you..." She trailed off and gave him another sly look, clearly teasing him. Sometimes, he thought she simply said things to provoke him, as if she actually enjoyed sparring with him. Just as he did with her.
Evan sent her a glare in return, though there was no heat or anger behind the look this time. "You should not know anything about how ladies refer to me, Cassandra. It's not fit for your ears."
Though really, while Cassandra might be an innocent, she was not stupid, and he could only imagine some of the things she had heard about him over the last year while out in Society. Most members of the Upper Ten Thousand, particularly the women, were not known for being all that discreet. In fact, when some of his old lovers had discovered that Cassandra was now his ward, despite the fact that she was already seven and twenty, many of them had filled her head with stories about his prowess in the bedchamber, thinking that she was also taking on the role of his mistress. At first, it had been all she could do to look at him after she heard the many stories about his proclivities. It had taken some coaxing and convincing on his part to reassure her that he would not force her into his bed.
That was not to say that he hadn't imagined bedding her a time or two, for Evan was only a man, and one with a rather lusty and well-earned reputation at that. Not to mention that the two of them were not related by blood in any way. And Cassandra, for all of her sharp tongue, was a lovely and desirable woman. However, Evan wasn't a monster - merely a dragon - and Cassandra was his ward. Even though he did need a bride and, at one and thirty himself, was not exactly getting any younger.
Rolling her eyes, Cassandra shaded her face from the strong morning sun as she looked around the clearing. "I believe that ship has already sailed away, as they say. Besides, I am only joking, Evan. I do not care what you do in the privacy of your bedchamber or whom you do it with. I am well aware of your reputation, and as I have said repeatedly, it does not bother me in the least. Or at least it no longer does."
He could believe that easily enough. A year ago, he had been afraid that Cassandra might attempt to use her undeniable beauty to lure him into her bed so that she might obtain what she desired from him. For he would confess, if only in private, that had she attempted to entice him with her feminine wiles, he would have been sorely tempted to take her up on any offer she might have made.
Yet she had done nothing of the sort. If anything, she acted as if he, one of the ton's most notorious womanizers and seducers of women, was the most unattractive man she had ever encountered. She enjoyed arguing with him to be certain, and she would gladly debate him for hours upon an issue. She also showed no signs that an offer into her bed would ever be forthcoming, nor would she appreciate an invitation into his.
Evan enjoyed that about her, actually. And yet, at the same time, in some strange way, he did not enjoy it at all.
"Most women in your position would care," he replied, feeling the need to tease her just a little bit mor
e on this gloriously sunny and yet somehow also delightfully frosty morning. He felt happy and alive, and a large part of that was due to Cassandra's presence. He wanted to enjoy the moment for as long as he could.
"I am not most women," Cassandra retorted without even turning around. "As you well know." When she did finally turn to face him, he found that she was smiling as well. Typical Cassandra. "In fact, I would wager that you know me better than I know myself at times."
"I know you are an excellent horsewoman." He offered her his arm - as he often did these days - as they strolled across the frozen fields, enjoy the early morning sunshine. Offering her his arm had begun merely as a show for Society, a sign that he was taking his position as her guardian seriously, but now Evan found that he simply made the same gesture out of habit. Cassandra didn't seem to mind so he continued with the gesture, even though it wasn't necessary. Especially not when they were alone. "I also know that you are taking jumps like a mad woman, though I also know that I cannot stop you. Or that if anyone, male or female, is capable of making those jumps or mastering even the most recalcitrant of horses, it is you."
Cassandra laughed, the sound somehow blending with the natural sounds around them as if she was a part of the woodland scene itself. "And I know an overly effusive compliment when I hear one." Still, she did not seem angry. "What is it that you want, Evan? For I know you desire something. You do not compliment me like that otherwise."
Always far too clever for her own good was his Cassandra. "We need to return to Town early. I know that I promised that we could remain here at Brambly until the Season is more fully underway, but I am afraid that I must go back on my word. I hate that I must do so, but it is necessary."
Beside him, Cassandra stilled, her boots no longer crunching the ground crisply as she walked. Instead, she turned to him, eyes wide. "Is there something amiss with Berkshire?" That was how she had taken to referring to the marquisate as a whole, for she had made it plain that she still did not think of Evan in those terms - and possibly never would.
A Scandal In the Making Page 2
