Evan ignored the comment, though privately he could admit that the older woman was right. "And I cannot ignore the possibility that, if she cannot find a husband, she might well agree to take on the role of mistress to this Matthew Taylor, especially if she thinks the man loves her. So, therefore, a husband it is."
"You sound as if you are being sentenced to Newgate rather than finding a proper husband for your ward," Louisa commented a bit too sweetly. "Why is that? Could it be that you dislike the idea of a man who isn't you, Lord Evan Haddington, touching her? That you dislike the idea of not seeing her every day or of not being able to speak as freely to her as you do now?"
"Auntie, I am simply concerned for the safety and well-being of my ward as any good man would be," Evan sighed, wondering how his aunt knew so damn much about something he had believed to be a private matter. "Can we leave it be at that?"
"For now." Louisa began to rise and Evan reached out to assist her, not wanting the older woman to topple over and injure herself. "However, the reasons why you feel this way will not go away, Evan. Eventually, you will have to confront them. When you do, I hope there is still time to salvage the situation."
Then she was gone, leaving Evan alone in his office, the silence almost deafening.
After nearly a year of living with Aunt Louisa, he did not understand the way her mind worked any better than he had at first. How she came up with some of her odd ideas he would never know.
He did not like the idea of Cassandra marrying, that much was true. Though that was likely because he had his own future to secure first. He did not want any distractions in his quest for the perfect bride, much as the idea of stepping into the parson's mousetrap with some simpering young debutante who only wished to spend his fortune left him cold from the inside out. Still, it was his duty. Cassandra's own husband hunt threatened to take his attentions away from his own search, one that was far more important to the future of the marquisate as a whole than hers was. Once he secured a bride? Then he would be more than happy to assist her in securing whatever match she desired for herself. At least if she did not go off and ruin herself with this Matthew Taylor bastard in the meantime.
With another shake of his head, Evan seated himself behind his desk once more and prepared to accept the invitation to the Crystal Ball. At some point when he had been arguing with Cassandra, Aunt Louisa must have tossed the bit of parchment onto his desk, and he had not noticed.
Fingering the fine linen, he wondered if he was setting himself up for an impossible task in trying to secure a bride through the usual social channels. Given how irritating he tended to find proper social conventions, likely so. Would simply arranging for a bride not be a better choice? He had plenty of friends with eligible sisters that he thought he might be able to tolerate as a wife, at least long enough to get a child or two on her. Or would that violate some obscure condition of his uncle's will?
Franklin had hinted that the usual selection process of seeking a mate via the Marriage Mart was acceptable under the terms of the will. The solicitor had said nothing about the acceptability of a contractual obligation to a chit that Evan had never met. So no, perhaps simply dashing off notes to some of his friends inquiring which one of them had a sister they would like to unload on some poor, unsuspecting sod was not the right way to go about things. Evan was so close to finally being able to improve the lives of everyone associated with Berkshire that he could not take the risk. Therefore, the Marriage Mart it was.
Which was yet one more reason why he did not need Cassandra and her absurd husband hunt mucking up his life. Something that he intended to tell her the next time she saw her. Provided that she was still speaking to him, of course.
Picking up his quill, Evan dipped the tip in his inkpot and began to write. He had hoped to ease back into the social whirl that was the London Season rather than jumping in feet first. However, that was not to be. So better to make the best of the situation and begin his bride hunt sooner rather than later - even if the idea left him with both a bitter taste in his mouth and a churning in his gut.
Chapter Four
Cassandra pressed a discreet fist to her breast as she stood in line with both Evan and Aunt Louisa as they waited to be introduced at the Crystal Ball. This strange pressure in her chest had been nagging at her all day, and it was becoming more than a little uncomfortable. She prayed that it did not become any worse and that she was not forced to leave the ball before she could begin her husband hunt.
She also rather wished she knew the source of the pressure.
"Are you well, Miss Grove?" Evan whispered in her ear, though he likely could have shouted and would not have been overheard given the cacophony of noise surrounding them.
"Well enough, my lord," she replied with a small sigh. The one thing she despised about being out in Society like this was that she had to constantly refer to Evan as "my lord" or "Lord Berkshire," when really, he was still just Evan to her - and probably always would be. "It might have been something I ate." Though for the life of her, she could not imagine what that might have been.
Evan chuckled. "Not getting into the prawns again, are you?"
In response, Cassandra blanched visibly. "Lord, no," she whispered back. "I don't think I could even look at another one of those ugly, wiggly little things ever again."
After a particularly nasty argument the previous spring, one in which Evan had made a rather cutting remark about being saddled with a ward who clearly enjoyed extravagant tastes, particularly in the way of food, Cassandra had marched directly to the kitchens and, in a fit of pique, had eaten every last prawn she had been able to find, including those set aside for Evan's very first dinner party that night. It had been childish, but she had been feeling rather helpless and with no real way to strike back at a man she felt was unfairly punishing her because she had ample curves and was not the thin and willowy sort of woman he preferred.
In the end, Cassandra had paid dearly for her petulance.
Afterward, she had become so deathly ill that the dinner party had been canceled and Evan had been forced to summon Dr. Hastings, noted physician to the ton, in order to make certain that Cassandra was not in any danger of dying. For the better part of a day, she had lain abed, gripped by stomach pains and casting up her accounts whenever anyone so much as breathed in her direction. A result, she was told, of her delicate health in her youth. Also probably the first of many such issues that would arise as she grew older.
Cassandra had been so ill that Evan had ended up apologizing for his remark, saying that he didn't care what she ate or how curvy she was. She could eat whatever she liked, as long as she did not up and die on him. That had been a humiliating conversation for them both, especially when in the middle of it she had cast up her accounts in front of him, forcing him to hold her head over the porcelain wash basin as she did so.
It was not an incident that either of them was in any danger of forgetting any time soon.
When she blanched again, this time from the pain between her breasts, Evan reached out a steadying hand, his face creased in true concern. "Are you certain you are well? If you do not feel up to this, we can depart. I can always send the carriage back for Aunt Louisa later on."
Cassandra shook her head and drew in a steadying breath. "No, really. I am fine. I am certain it is nothing."
Actually, part of her wondered if what she was experiencing was perhaps pangs of fear. She had heard of such things, particularly in those Gothic novels she liked to read, such as Mrs. Kingsley and the Black Pirate, which was a particular favorite, but she had never imagined she might experience them herself. After all, she was not normally the worrying sort, nor was she a timid creature. She was also far too practical most of the time to be such a peagoose. However, ever since her disagreement with Evan the day before, something hard had been sitting directly in the center of her chest and making her feel as if her corset was laced far too tight. Tight to the point where she could not breathe.
"
As long as you are certain." Evan gave her a sidelong glance. "Despite our...words yesterday, I do not wish any harm to befall you. You must know that by now." He paused and then looked around, waiting to make certain he was not overheard. "I am sorry, Cassandra. For all of it. We are well past that sort of behavior. Or rather, you clearly are, and I should be as well."
For a moment she was too stunned to speak. Evan Haddington did not apologize. For anything. Ever. That he would do so here and now spoke to just how truly sorry he was.
"And I am sorry as well, Evan. You are right. You must find a wife first. I can wait on my husband hunt." Her voice was as hushed as she could make it, not wanting anyone to overhear them. She was about to say more but then the line moved forward and suddenly, they were not so alone anymore, forcing her to still her tongue. However, the understanding look in his eyes let her know that all was forgiven. Nothing more needed to be said.
While the knot in her chest did not disappear at the gesture, it did loosen considerably and a quarter hour later when they had finally been introduced and made their way into the ballroom, Cassandra was feeling a tiny bit better than she had previously. She was still concerned about her future, certainly, but at least she was no longer openly quarreling with Evan.
"I do not see Aunt Louisa anywhere," Evan remarked as he guided Cassandra through the crush of people and towards the terrace doors where they might take some air. The wait in line had been long and the crush of people made the ball extremely crowded - something neither of them enjoyed. "You don't think she's in the card room, do you?" He was only half-joking in his comment.
"I would not put anything past her," Cassandra remarked, as she quickly scanned the row of old tabbies and wallflowers searching for the vivacious old woman. Given her proclivities, Aunt Louisa would likely stick out like a flower betwixt weeds if she was among those women who looked as if they would prefer to hide behind a potted plant rather than dance. "Don't you remember Lord and Lady Hallstone's fete during the Little Season? She was caught drinking and playing billiards with The Bloody Duke himself if you'll recall."
Evan squelched his eyes shut. "Indeed I do remember. Please do not remind me." Then he shook his head. "When Franklin informed me that Aunt Louisa essentially came with the title, I expected that I would inherit a meek, mild-mannered old lady. I had no idea that she was so opinionated. Or that she could be so outrageous. And devious."
Cassandra chuckled. "The day I arrived at Berkshire House, she came down the front stairs thumping her cane as if all of Wellington's forces were behind her, ready to do her bidding. She gave me this odd and up and down look and informed me that I would do. Even now, I still have no idea what she meant."
"She is a rare gem," Evan agreed. "Who knew that our Aunt Louisa was referred to as 'The Hellion of Berkshire' back in her day?"
"Not I, certainly," Cassandra remarked as she continued to scan the ballroom for the older woman. "When I was first with Aunt Ellie, I didn't even know Louisa existed. I can't imagine what my aunt and old Berkshire were thinking." Even now, the thought of how Cassandra had lived in Berkshire House for nearly three full months when she first came to London for her come-out and yet never once encountered Aunt Louisa brought a blush of shame to her cheeks, even though she knew the old woman's previous living conditions had not been her fault.
The sister of the previous marquess, Louisa Haddington had, indeed, been something of a hellion in her day. Always a lady, she had, however charted her own course in life and often times indulged in activities that were typically considered suitable only for men, such as racing horses and carriages, shooting firearms, hunting, playing billiards and drinking strong spirits. She had never married, though it was rumored that at one point in her life she had indulged in a great love affair with a Russian prince, though no one was quite certain of the veracity of that claim.
Rumors from her two stays in India also abounded, but Cassandra tended to dismiss those as nothing more than pure flights of fancy. Surely no woman could be so outrageous as all of that and still retain her highly regarded position in Society. Though from time to time, Cassandra did wonder if at least some of the rumors did not have a grain of truth. There seemed to be too many of them to discount them all completely.
Louisa's brother, Lord Moses Harrington, the previous marquess, had always considered his sister an embarrassment to the family and had worked to curb her wild behavior, finally revoking her control of her own fortune through trickery and making her completely dependent upon him for her survival. After that, few ever saw the woman once known as "Lovely Lady Louisa," and she all but disappeared from the social whirl of the ton.
Even when Cassandra had first gone to live with the old marquess and her Aunt Ellie, who herself was new to the title of marchioness, she heard nothing more than rumors about an old and distant female relative that was confined to the dark corners of the estate - both for her safety and the safety of others. At one point, Cassandra wasn't even certain that Aunt Louisa even existed and instead thought she might be nothing more than a ghost story made up to help keep her in line.
When Cassandra returned home to Ivy Cottage, she promptly forgot all about the mysterious old woman she had never seen, not giving the matter any more thought. That was until both the old marquess and Aunt Ellie had died, her aunt leaving the Gray Ladies to Cassandra in her will, along with instructions to return to Berkshire House post-haste so that she might claim her inheritance.
So it was with a great deal of surprise that Cassandra had seen not a frail old woman tottering down the steps towards her the day she returned to London, but rather a formidable woman clad in a striking purple and peacock blue gown trimmed in copper threads and wearing an oversized turban with a matching peacock feather, marching down the steps as if she was about to launch a campaign on the Peninsula against Old Boney. This, finally, was The Hellion of Berkshire, and she looked nothing at all like Cassandra had anticipated.
Nor did she behave as Cassandra - or even Evan for that matter - had anticipated. Once free from her brother's iron control, Aunt Louisa slowly began to return to her old ways, including doing everything from gambling on the famous Fairhaven Cup races at the Duke of Enwright's summer house party to dancing the waltz with the sinfully handsome so-called "American Marquess," Lord Daniel Weston at Lady Carlisle's Snowflake Ball during the Little Season the previous year. Now, she was a regular bon vivant, gadding about London as if she was a young debutante again.
Not that Cassandra begrudged the old woman the enjoyment, of course. Nor did Evan. One of the very first things both Cassandra and Evan had agreed upon was the need to provide Aunt Louisa with every comfort she had been denied after her brother had taken charge of her life. Now the old woman was one of the most sought-after guests in all of London and received stacks of invitations daily, nearly as popular now as she had been in her youth.
Which was why it was no surprise that the woman, who tonight was wearing a dress of orange, bronze and a deep maroon, was nowhere to be seen amongst the pale wallflowers and grumbling old tabbies that lined the edge of the ballroom.
"She is not here," Evan sighed. "I know she can take care of herself, but I still worry about her."
"Careful, Dragon," Cassandra whispered in a teasing tone. "Your heart is showing again."
As quickly as possible without appearing to rush, Evan led Cassandra over to the windows and multiple sets of French doors that lined the terrace. "Yes, well, let's just keep that to ourselves, shall we?" Once he had deposited her on the very edge of a small group of women, he gave her a short bow. "I know this is not done, but please wait here until I return with Aunt Louisa. I am very worried about her for some reason. I cannot say why. I simply do not like her going off alone like this."
Cassandra flicked her fingers at him in a clear signal of dismissal. "Go. I shall be fine." She inclined her head towards a small cluster of woman that included Lady Abigail Reynolds, the Duchess of Hathaway. "She is...well...my family, I suppose,
and we became friendly at Lord and Lady Enwright's party last summer. I shall be safe enough with her and my reputation well protected."
Just then, the striking brunette looked in their direction, and her smile widened. With a few quick words, she took her leave of the group of women she had been chatting with and made her way to where Evan and Cassandra stood.
"Your grace." Cassandra dropped down into a deep curtsey while Evan offered a low and very formal bow. "It is good to see you again."
The duchess laughed. "Oh, don't you start that nonsense, too! Did I not ask you to call me Abby?"
"That was before you were a duchess, your grace." That came from Evan, accompanied by his most charming smile. Which, in Cassandra's experience, meant that he was about to ask for a favor. Really. She was honestly capable of taking care of herself, though she did think it sweet that he worried.
"And I am still just Abby to my friends," she replied with a smile. "Being a duchess does not change that. I am still a merchant's daughter at heart."
When the former Miss Abigail Northrup had wed the then-slightly-disgraced Lord Adam Reynolds, Duke of Hathaway, there had been something of a minor scandal surrounding the union. However, when it became clear that not only was theirs a true love match but that a new Hathaway heir was already on the way, much of the gossip swirling about them was quickly forgotten. Now, they were among the most celebrated couples in the ton - and the most respected.
"Very well, Abby." Evan smiled once again. "I am afraid that I have lost my Aunt Louisa in this crush and I must beg a favor of you."
Abby graced Evan with a knowing smile. "You wish for me to keep an eye on Miss Grove so that you might find your wayward aunt who is likely in a place not fit for a woman of any age." When Evan merely raised and eyebrow, the duchess shrugged. "I married a rogue of the worst sort, remember? There is little about the world of the aristocracy that I am unfamiliar with."
A Scandal In the Making Page 6
