"I am not certain how to answer that," Evan admitted, tugging her forward though their pace was now slower than before. He did not know how many more mornings they would have alone like this - times when they could speak frankly with one another. Once back in London, he was afraid that this familiarity would have to end. Back in Town, there were...rules. Rules that prevented them from being together in this manner, even if both of their intentions were innocent.
"Then say it plainly, Evan," she urged softly. "I am a big girl. I can endure whatever news you need to impart."
He shrugged. "Very well. I need to marry."
Once again, Cassandra stopped in her tracks. "Marry? You? But what of your womanizing and hedonistic ways? I might not approve, but they are as much a part of you as breathing."
"Not so much as of late." In fact, ever since Lord Enwright's grand masquerade house party the previous summer, Evan had only bedded two women and each of those only for one night each. He had not taken a mistress in nearly a year, dismissing the delightful Mrs. Logan only a few scant days before he had become the marquess. Perhaps he was growing too old to carouse the way he used to do in his youth or perhaps the thrill of such liaisons no longer aroused him as they once had. Even now he could not be certain. "More than that, as I know you are aware, I cannot fully take the reins of Berkshire until I wed." He had admitted that much to her, though she did not know about the potential loopholes in the previous marquess' will that might lead to everyone being tossed out into the streets if he crossed some line he could not see. He hadn't wanted her to worry.
"And Brambly needs so very many repairs. Ones you cannot make until you are fully the marquess," she admitted quietly, gentle understanding in her tone. When they had ventured to Brambly the previous summer, Evan had been more than a little surprised to see the grand old estate in any sort of disrepair. He had authorized what he could, but in order to move the estate forward, there was still much more work to be done. Work he could not see through until Berkshire was fully his.
They had spent the Christmastide holiday season at Snowfield, a lovely little estate near the Scottish border. Unlike Brambly, it was in a better state of upkeep, but it, too, could use a fair number of improvements. After Twelfth Night, they had returned to Brambly for a time, Evan wishing to see how repairs to the estate were coming along. They had stayed on ever since and it was here that he had come to his decision regarding his future.
"There is that," he agreed. "And then there is the matter of you." When he felt her stiffen in his grasp, he knew he had frightened her and worked quickly to assuage her fears. "No, no, Cassandra. Do not worry. I shall not attempt to throw you out into the streets again. If anything, I have grown a bit fond of you over the last year."
For some reason, his words made her blush. "You do not need to flatter me, Evan."
"It is not flattery if it is the truth," he countered gently. "I have grown accustomed to you and your wild ways over the past year and, even though we do not always agree upon all matters, I would not dream of forcing you from our home. Not even when I wed. You will always have a place within Berkshire if you wish it, Cassandra. No matter what. I respect you too much to do otherwise."
She shook her head. "You confuse me, Evan. For if I have a place here, what is there to do with me?" Other than turn over the Gray Ladies to her, though she did not say that. Not that he expected she would. She was not the pleading type, his Cassandra.
"Once I am wed, all of Berkshire will be mine to do with as I please. At the moment, it is not. I cannot say more than that, for fear of risking all. You know this for we have spoken of the matter many times before." He licked his lips as if he was nervous, a gesture she did not associate with him much. "Just be assured that once I have a bride and all power is mine, then you might yet receive what your heart desires. Only, I fear that if we speak of it beyond this moment, there might yet be...complications."
Over the last year, Cassandra had learned to read Evan rather well and he could tell from the understanding look in her mossy eyes that she took his meaning immediately. "Then we shall speak of the subject no more, dragon. So long as I know that I am welcomed here, that is all that I need know."
"Always, Cassie. Always. As I frequently say these days, I might be a dragon, but I am no monster." Typically, Evan did not voice his private nickname for Cassandra out loud, not even to her. He had first uttered the name "Cassie" last fall when she had taken ill with a fever, and there was some doubt as to whether or not she would live. Still, even though they were perhaps a bit overly familiar with one another, he did not use that name, thinking it far too intimate. In this moment, however, he could not help himself. "I would never force you out of your home."
Without realizing it, they had turned back to where the horses were still amusing themselves with the frozen grass.
"Thank you, Evan." She seemed to be taking the news well, he decided. Then again, this was exactly what he had expected of her. She was pragmatic if nothing else, and he had assured her of her place within Berkshire. That was enough. At least he hoped it was.
When they reached Marigold and Thor, Evan moved as if to mount his horse, but Cassandra's hand on his arm stayed him. "Evan?" He hated the slight tremor in her voice. Especially because he had been the one to put it there. "I need you to know that whomever you wed, rest assured that I know my place within the household and will not challenge your new bride in any fashion. As of late, I have taken on roles best left to a wife simply because there is no one else to fill them and they are necessary to the proper functioning of a peer's household. What I have done is for that reason and no other."
"I know, Cassie. Truly, I do." Evan did his best to reassure her, for he knew well why she had taken over the role of hostess in his home. There was no one else, save his elderly Aunt Louisa, who had essentially come with the house when he inherited. He had no wish to overly burden a woman in her sixth or most likely seventh decade - for no one was quite certain how old Aunt Louisa actually was - no matter that she still seemed full of life. It was simply not fair, and above all else, Evan did attempt to be fair in his new role as marquess.
"I know your heart is good, Cassie. That is all that matters to me." Then, in an attempt to ease the tension growing between them, Evan graced Cassandra with a wicked grin. "Or at least I know that now. I know I suspected you of a great many things, including spying on me, back in the beginning. Remember when I accused you of being a spy for the Bloody Duke and spent that one evening following you about Berkshire House until I tripped over Aunt Louisa's dog and ended up face first in that vase of flowers near the front door?"
As he had anticipated, his comment made Cassandra laugh. "Oh, Evan! I remember that night well." Then she gave him a saucy smile in return, all trace of her earlier worry gone. "And I knew you were there behind me all along." She tilted her head to the side. "Though I did not know Wilbur was trailing us as well. For a rather small dog, even as Corgis go, he does tend to be underfoot quite a lot."
"That he does," Evan agreed as he swung up onto Thor's back and watched as Cassandra mounted Marigold with just as much ease. She was still riding astride but he chose not to comment. After all, he had given his approval. She was also back in good spirits, all traces of her earlier fear - and fear he had put there, no less - seemingly gone. "Yet Louisa adores him, and I fear that I have rather grown to adore her. So the pesky, fur-shedding little beast shall stay."
"You are growing soft, dragon," Cassandra teased as she wheeled her horse around and pointed the mare back in the direction of the stables. "Be careful or someone will discover the truth of you. That you have far more of a heart than you allow anyone to see." Once more, she gave him a wicked grin. "Race you." It was a dare and not a question, and she was off without waiting for him to reply.
As Evan dug his heels into Thor's side to set the giant stallion into motion, Cassandra's words rang in his ears. He did have a heart, though he did not care to admit it. That was why he had to wed - b
ecause he cared too much, not just about Berkshire but about all of them. Including Cassandra.
So very many people were all depending on him for their health and livelihoods. Those same people needed him to wed quickly and secure the future of the marquisate. They needed him to do the right thing and secure all of their futures. Before everything was snatched away by a quirk of law he could not even anticipate.
Even if Evan himself wasn't truly ready for the parson's mousetrap - which he most decidedly was not. His future in exchange for all of theirs. It hardly seemed fair, this selecting of a bride simply for the sake of having a wife, but then life was not fair.
Once upon a time, he had imaged that he would have a choice in a wife, that he had all the time in the world to select one to his liking - or not if he never really desired one. Now he understood that he didn't have either choice or time. He simply had to find a woman he could live with, which, he knew from experience, might be easier said than done. Pity that - for all involved. Especially his unknown future wife.
Chapter Two
Sitting on the edge of her bed, Cassandra looked around her posh, comfortable chambers in the family wing at Brambly. Even when her Aunt Ellie had been mistress here, Cassandra had not been granted the luxury of living in the family wing when she visited, and Ellie had been of Cassandra's very own blood. It occurred to her then that, even in the darkest days of their association, never once had Evan banished her to the less desirable guest wing. Or worse, the decrepit and falling-down-around-them dowager's house. He had also never questioned her ties to the peerage, even though there were still those in Society who wondered, at least in private, whether or not she was truly a Reynolds by blood and therefore, part of the larger Berkshire family by marriage.
Cassandra had always been family to Evan, no matter what, and he had treated her as such. Even when he likely wished to toss her out on her arse. He had said that, too. More than once, particularly when they argued which, in the past anyway, was far more frequently than she would have liked.
Except that Evan wasn't her blood family. To him, however, that didn't seem to matter. He treated her no differently than he did his elderly and now beloved Aunt Louisa, another dependent that had come with the Berkshire estate that he didn't seem inclined to dislodge from his life either. As Evan had stated earlier, he might be a dragon at times, but he was no monster, and he had made it clear from the first that he was not about to toss out an elderly maiden aunt that no one had given a fig about in years, if not decades.
But Evan cared - even if he would never admit to the kindness or the emotion behind it.
Within the first few days of taking over the marquisate, Evan had moved Louisa into a better bedchamber, inquired as to what she both needed and wanted and made certain she had just that - and more. In short order, Aunt Louisa became a part of the family - if one could term the odd little bunch assembled beneath the roof of Berkshire House just off Grosvenor Square a family - and had everything her heart desired, including an extensive new wardrobe as befitting a woman who was, when all else was stripped away, sister, aunt, and great aunt to a marquess and that had been all but forgotten about over the years.
Just as Evan had provided for Cassandra herself. Like Louisa, he had made certain that she was comfortable and had spent lavishly to ensure that she was cared for in the proper style. He had purchased a new wardrobe for her as well, never flinching at the cost, which she had considered to be enormous, though Evan insisted every penny spent was absolutely necessary. Or, if the small fortune he had spent on clothing her had bothered him in some way, he had not uttered a peep of displeasure in her presence. Instead, he had gone over the bills from Madame LaVallier's dress shop very carefully and when he had noticed that Cassandra had neglected to purchase a number of items any other woman might consider necessities - such as entire array of new undergarments - he had called her into his study and demanded that she march herself right back to the modiste's shop and order whatever else she either needed or desired. Or simply just liked and thought was pretty.
To Evan, cost did not matter, at least not as long as Cassandra was properly attired as befitting the ward of a marquess.
Smiling to herself, Cassandra remembered how the two of them had railed at each other over the issue of her unmentionables. She had called him a dragon to his face, the first time she had ever done such a thing. Nor had she backed down from her position, not even when she was certain that a look of horror was dawning upon her face when she realized what she had done - and that they were arguing over something so very intimate. In return, Evan had called her a queen with a sneer in his voice and something dark and glittering in the depths of his eyes, an emotion that even now she could not fully explain.
The entire affair had been an ugly night that also resulted in a broken vase - which was largely her fault as she had thrown the crystal cylinder at his head when he refused to give in on the subject of her buying new undergarments - that he was paying for rather than her. To his credit, Evan hadn't thrown anything back at her, though he had tossed one of the damaged roses back in her direction and asked rather derisively if there was anything else her highness required. Eventually, however, they had called a truce and she had done as he asked, filling out the rest of her new wardrobe as requested. And sending him the bill.
Though she would never admit as much to Evan, it had been quite thrilling to enter the modiste's shop and request all new undergarments, as well as a new riding habit, a new pelisse, a lush cape done in some exquisite black velvet Cassandra had noticed once she entered the shop upon her return trip, and a ballgown so daring that she had yet to muster up the courage to wear the frock. Oh, and a pair of pale pink embroidered gloves that she simply thought were pretty and that she wished to own.
In the back of her mind, Cassandra realized that she owed all that she now had to Evan's generosity.
Evan. A man who wasn't even certain that he liked her a good deal of the time. The same man she wasn't always certain she cared for over much either. She should have continued to refuse him, even over something as simple as a new wardrobe, but she had not and for no real reason that she could determine. Other than that perhaps, just perhaps mind you, she honestly did crave those material things he offered. That she indeed sought the comfort he was bestowing upon her for the first time in her life. And really, what woman could turn down the promise of sensual new undergarments when all she had worn for years was rough, serviceable cotton?
She could not and in the end, she had given in. Even though it went against her better judgment to be beholden in any way to a man like Evan Haddington.
As the months continued to slide by, Cassandra could also not quite bring herself to truly worry about how indebted she was becoming to Evan, even though she knew very well that she should. Instead, she was too busy sorting out the feelings his kind gesture - and the many others that followed - had unlocked inside of her.
It was the first time since her father had passed that anyone had taken care of her and it had felt...peculiar, for not even the previous Berkshire had been so generous as Evan now was. The very notion that, at heart, he might be a decent man made Cassandra feel as if miniature wild animals were caged inside of her chest and roaring to be free. She did not like the way her insides twisted when she thought of Evan and his generosity. It was...peculiar. There was no other word for it.
Just as she had felt peculiar when he had referred to her as Cassie earlier today in the frost-covered meadow. He never called her that. Not unless he was worried.
Was he worried about how she would take the news that he was going to seek a bride this Season? She couldn't see why he would be. After all, other than her position within the household, such as it was, Evan's impending nuptials to whomever the lucky woman might be had little to do with Cassandra herself. And Evan had already assured her that she had a home here - always. That was enough.
Except that it wasn't.
For if Evan took a wife, then a great ma
ny things would change, including her relationship with him.
Odd as it sounded, Cassandra enjoyed the often contentious relationship she shared with Evan.
She enjoyed arguing with him, for she liked seeing the golden streaks in his green-gray eyes spark with fire. She enjoyed watching him come alive when he roared at her like the dragon she compared him to so often.
Cassandra could also admit that she enjoyed teasing him and debating issues with him. No one, not even her beloved father, had given her credit for having a mind of her own or any intelligence whatsoever. But Evan did. He had from the first. And while he often disagreed with her, he also refused to simply pat her on the head and tell her not to worry or think overly much, that he was a man and would take care of everything. Instead, he listened to her position on matters, debated her, and even though they might not agree very often, he never made her feel as if her views upon a matter were foolish or wrong. Very often, he would concede that she had a valid point, even if he did not necessarily agree with her.
There was also a rather vain part of her that could admit that she enjoyed being seen on Evan's arm at Society events. Evan offering her his arm when they entered an entertainment had been a small thing at first, particularly during the Little Season and done more to validate that he viewed her as part of the Berkshire marquisate than anything else. Evan accepted Cassandra as a Reynolds and by him escorting her into balls and the like, he was all but daring anyone to challenge him on the issue.
Thankfully, no one ever did. Not to mention that being seen on the arm of a handsome, dashing, and admittedly rather rakish man like Evan Haddington made Cassandra all that much more attractive to other men as well. Not that she was looking for a husband, or at least she hadn't been, but she did like to dance and being seen escorted about by Evan ensured that her dance card was always full.
A Scandal In the Making Page 3
