“I know,” Julian said. “The worst of this is that I do not blame her for having turned me down. I did use her. I used her to gain acceptance into society.”
“But that was in Calcutta. You didn’t do that here,” Merry protested.
“No, but I have not been completely honest here either. I have allowed others to dictate what I do,” he nodded towards Fungy, “and what I wear.”
Fungy sat up straighter, looking at him with wide eyes.
“I know, I know. I asked you to tell me what to wear. I asked you to make me fashionable. But that is not truly what is important to me.”
He got up to refill his glass from the near-empty bottle. Then he stood staring at his drink, thinking over this problem. “What I’ve got to do now is to prove to Cassandra that I have changed. That I no longer care for society,” he said, thinking aloud.
“And how are you going to do that? It will take time, Julian.” Merry poured out the last glass from bottle of brandy.
“I don’t believe that it will. I’ve got an idea.” Julian got up and pulled out another bottle of brandy from the stash inside of his cabinet. Opening it, he refilled all of their glasses. He then raised his glass to salute his friends, knowing full well that what he was going to do might not be the most prudent course of action.
But it was what he had to do.
“Cassandra, it is enough!” Aunt Bradmore pulled back the covers of Cassandra’s bed from where they had been covering her head.
“No, it is not. It will never be,” Cassandra moaned.
“Really, my girl, two days is certainly long enough to recover from a plot of your own making.”
“Yes, Cassandra, you are the one who decided to take your revenge on Cousin Huntley. You can’t now be so very upset when you were successful in your own plan.” Olivia, sitting on the counterpane next to Cassandra, smoothed Cassandra’s hair away from her face.
“I know, but I honestly hadn’t expected that I would still be in love with him. Or that it would hurt so much!”
Aunt Bradmore sighed. “Well, my dear, there is only one solution to a tumble. You must get right back up again.”
“But Aunt Bradmore…”
“No, Cassandra, I am tired of your complaints about how your heart is broken. I have given you plenty of time to get over this. Now it is time for you to get up and re-enter society. You cannot miss Lady Jersey’s soiree. If you do so, you will never see another voucher to Almack’s, and you will harm your cousin’s chances of obtaining one as well.”
Cassandra groaned. She could not do that to Olivia, and Aunt Bradmore knew that she never would. She ducked her head back down under her covers once again, knowing the battle was lost.
It was a very sad-looking young lady who entered Lady Jersey’s soiree that evening. The face powder Aunt Bradmore had lent to her did somewhat cover up the red still rimming her blue eyes, but there was little anyone could do about the smile that just would not come to her face. Try as hard as she might, Cassandra just could not muster one up.
Olivia did her best to draw attention away from her usually vibrant cousin, but she just did not have the same energy that Cassandra had naturally.
“I am so happy to hear that you are feeling better, Miss Renwick,” Lord Hawksmore said, gently taking her hand and kissing the back of it.
“Still looking a trifle peaked, but so glad you could make it,” Mr. Corstairs said, lingering near her as well.
She gave them her best approximation of a smile. “You are both so good to me. I do not deserve such fine friends.”
“Not at all.”
“Can I get you some lemonade?” Mr. Corstairs offered.
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Cassandra replied softly, sitting down in the chair brought forward for her by Lord Hawksmore.
She was glad that Aunt Bradmore had put it about that she had been indisposed. Still, it was very reassuring to have her two most devoted suitors still by her side.
Lord Hawksmore was doing an excellent job regaling her with all of the gossip of the last two days while she sipped her lemonade. He even managed to move Julian to the back of her mind for moments at a time, although she could never completely forget about him.
She was smiling at an amusing anecdote the duke was relating when she noticed Lord Merrick and Fungy hurrying in. They stopped just inside the door, their eyes roaming the room. As soon as they caught sight of her, they both sped over.
“Miss Renwick, I am so glad to see you!”
“Thank God, you are here!” the men said in unison while approaching her.
“Good evening gentlemen, is something amiss?” Cassandra asked, sitting up. She did not like the looks of grave concern on both of their faces.
“Something amiss? I should say something is amiss!” Fungy said emphatically.
“Hawksmore, Corstairs, you must excuse Miss Renwick. We need her services most desperately,” Lord Merrick said, taking Cassandra’s hand and helping her stand up.
“But what is the matter?” Lord Hawksmore asked with alarm.
“Huntley’s attempting social suicide.” Fungy placed his hand on the small of Cassandra’s back, urging, almost pushing, her forward.
“We can only hope that Miss Renwick will be able to convince him to stop.” Lord Merrick tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her away, leaving the stunned gentlemen behind them.
As they walked quickly from the main drawing room, Cassandra looked from one man to the other. “Is Julian all right? What has he done? What do you mean by social suicide?”
But “you’ll see” was the only answer she could get from the two very determined men.
Instead of turning toward the front door, they pulled her around toward the back of the stairs, where there was a large display of ferns and potted palms.
Just as they approached, Julian stepped out from behind the plants. “I am not waiting any longer…” he began to say and then stopped short at the sight of Cassandra.
He was dressed in his old buff-colored pantaloons, yellow coat and his blue–and-yellow striped waistcoat. His boots were old and scuffed and did not look like they had seen polish for some time. In short, he looked precisely as he did when Cassandra had met him in Calcutta.
Choking back a combined sob and laugh, Cassandra covered her mouth and fiercely tried to blink away the tears that were immediately threatening to fall from her eyes.
“You see what we mean!” Fungy said, mistaking her reaction for one of horror.
“You’ve got to convince him that he can’t be seen in public like this,” Lord Merrick said, pleading with her with his eyes.
“Not tonight! Got to make a good impression tonight. Brummell will be here!” Fungy was looking close to tears himself.
All Cassandra could do was to shake her head, her hand still covering her mouth.
She had known at once what Julian had done. She knew the meaning of these clothes, and it was, as his friends had said, social suicide.
He had done this for her.
In front of her, with his friends looking on, Julian dropped down on one knee. “Cassandra, I don’t care about Beau Brummell. I don’t care if I never become a member of White’s. You are all I care about. You are all I have ever cared about since I’ve come to know you.”
“Don’t forget about the apology for using her,” Lord Merrick whispered loudly to Julian.
“Or the fact that it is important to be well-dressed,” Fungy put in.
Cassandra’s eyes shifted between the two men as she stifled her laughter. Sheer joy welled up inside her.
Julian stood up, looking like he was going to do some serious harm to his friends. “Could you two please give us a moment of privacy? I can handle this!”
“Didn’t last time,” Fungy said, but was then he was quickly hushed by Lord Merrick and forcibly pulled away.
Julian took her hand and pulled Cassandra back behind the potted plants for more privacy.
It was da
rker there and smelled earthy and fresh. Cassandra, looking up into Julian’s eyes, feeling his warmth so close to her, could easily forget she was standing in Lady Jersey’s entryway.
“Cassandra…”
“I’ve never heard of anyone using their clothes as a means of apology before,” she said, giggling.
Julian laughed, his shoulders coming down a touch with the relief of his tension. “I was a cad for using you in Calcutta, and I swear, I will never do so again. I don’t care what people say about me, or what they think of me. It is only your good opinion that I care about.”
Cassandra nodded. “I’ve learned something about revenge as well. It is not for those with a conscience.”
Julian looked at her, confused. “I did try to take my revenge on how your mother treated me on you. But you were too wonderful. Too beautiful. Too thoughtful and caring. I fell in love you. All I want is to be with you, regardless of what anyone thinks or says.”
“I’d like that too,” she admitted.
“Poor Fungy was so proud of his creation, but he’ll learn to live without it.”
“He had every right to be proud, you looked wonderful.”
“But you prefer the true me.”
“Yes, of course. But, I suppose, there’s no reason why the real you can’t be fashionably dressed. I must say I wouldn’t mind, just so long as you are honest with me.”
“Always and forever, I swear. Just say that you love me and will marry me.”
“Julian, I love you. And I will marry you.”
She looked up at him and let herself be pulled into that deep turquoise place that was Julian’s eyes. His love for her shone so clearly through them.
He put his hand to her cheek, letting his rough thumb gently caress her soft skin. “And I love you Cassandra. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
His words flowed over her like a ray of sunshine, making her feel warm and cherished.
He bent closer to her. His lips brushed against hers very softly at first, but then they settled down as he took full possession of her mouth. She gave it to him, willingly, with all of the love she felt for him.
Her mind went blank, simply exalting in all of the wonderful feelings that were running through her heart and body. She felt such new and delicious sensations as his hands softly caressed her back, her sides, her breasts. A shiver of excitement went through her.
She pressed herself against him and felt his hard male body against hers. She could not get close enough, but wriggled and pressed against him in an effort to get nearer.
A moan escaped from his throat and he pulled back, leaving Cassandra feeling suddenly cold away from his heat.
Cradling her face with his hands, Julian smiled down at her. “That will have to wait until after we are married, my love.”
“Then let’s get married soon.”
“Yes. As soon as possible,” he said, lowering his lips to hers once again.
This time she pulled away. “But let’s not invite Prinny.”
They laughed, immersed in their shared love and understanding, until Cassandra impatiently pulled Julian’s lips to hers once more.
Also Available from Meredith Bond:
The Merry Marquis
It is only at the pianoforte with beautiful music flowing from her fingertips that Teresa Seton is happy. New to English society, she feels awkward and unsure of herself.
Only the attentions of her handsome neighbor can convince her that she is where she belongs—a stolen kiss proves that he means what he says. But the kiss is witnessed and the pair are forced to marry for propriety’s sake.
Once known as the “Merry Marquis”, Richard, the Marquis of Merrick, now lives the life of a recluse. Finding a beautiful stranger at his pianoforte strikes a chord within him, bringing back feelings he thought were lost with the passing of his wife. He is mesmerized by Teresa and her beautiful music, but can he convince her, and himself, that he can live and love again?
And if you like a little magic in your Regency romances
Magic In The Storm
Morgan is trapped and powerless.
The seventh child of the seventh child has always been a girl. Until Morgan Vallentyn was born. Because he’s male he can’t access the magical powers that should have been his. In order to attain his destiny, he first has to escape his home and find the source of his power—in the most unexpected of places.
Adriana would give up everything for her freedom.
Born to paint the natural world with unprecedented passion and vision, Adriana Hayden is bound by the laws of Regency society to her scheming guardian. But after meeting the handsome and mysterious Morgan, her world begins to open to enchanted possibilities she never could have imagined.
The only way to fulfill their destinies is for each to unlock the powers of the other — through the magic in the storm.
Here’s an excerpt:
May, 1815
Adriana Hayden didn’t even have to turn around. The quiet click of the door closing and the sigh of the sofa were all that she needed to hear to know that her dearest friend and companion, Henrietta, had come into the room.
She finished dabbing the black paint onto her canvas before stepping back and deciding that she had probably put too much. Well, she didn’t care. It was perfect and it reflected her mood so precisely Adriana imagined she wouldn’t even need to say a word to Henrietta.
She would paint the whole thing black if it wouldn’t ruin what was turning out to be a rather nice depiction of a stormy sea. The water thundered, crashing with violence onto the rocks at the base of a sheer cliff. Menacing clouds hung overhead within moments of letting loose a torrent of rain.
“Oh dear,” her companion said quietly, over the roar of the sea in Adriana’s mind.
Adriana closed her eyes for a moment to stop them from stinging and then swallowed down the anger that had risen to the top of her throat again. “They wouldn’t even let me see him,” she said, without preamble.
“Who wouldn’t?” Henrietta asked.
Adriana turned around into the quiet of the room. Henrietta was sitting, as always, with her back perfectly straight and her legs crossed at the ankle and tucked ever so slightly under the worn, comfortable sofa. Her brown hair was pulled up so tightly Adriana wondered that it didn’t hurt, but her hazel eyes spoke volumes of sympathy, for which Adriana was grateful. Adriana resisted the urge to run up to her dear friend and throw her arms around her.
Instead, she lifted her chin and replied, “The clerk at Sir William’s establishment.”
“So you didn’t even get to see Sir William? You didn’t show him your work?”
Adriana shook her head and turned back to her painting. Carelessly, she dabbed more black paint on where it wasn’t needed, darkening the sky even further.
“But that’s not right!” Henrietta said, full of indignation for Adriana. “What reason did he give?”
Adriana couldn’t even bear to turn around to face Henrietta again; the hurt was still too painful. She bit her lip to keep herself from either screaming in rage or crying like a thwarted child. She swallowed hard, again. “The clerk told me that he was certain that my watercolors were very pretty, but Sir William Agnew did not deal in a young lady’s dabbling. He only sold the work of true artists.” She paused at Henrietta’s gasp, but then continued. “He suggested that I give my work to some handsome young gentleman in the hope that he will marry me.”
“No, he didn’t!”
“Oh, yes.”
“Why, the nerve! The gall! The temerity of such... such...”
“A man,” Adriana finished for her.
“An imbecile is what I was going to say.”
“Perhaps they are one and the same,” Adriana said, allowing her mouth to quirk up in a little smile.
Henrietta just harrumphed.
Adriana turned around and attempted to put a real smile onto her face. How was it that Henrietta always made her feel better? No matter w
hat had upset her, Henrietta always slipped herself right up under Adriana’s hurt and pried it away.
“It’s all right, Henrietta. I’ll just try someone else. I don’t have to sell my paintings through Sir William. I’m certain there are plenty of other art dealers who will take a look at my work.”
“But Sir William is the best,” her friend argued.
“Yes, but another dealer will be able to sell my work just as well. He may not get the prices Sir William could command, but at least we’ll get the money we need.”
“Oh, Adriana, it’s such a shame to have to sell your beautiful work...”
“But necessary. Absolutely necessary,” she said with all of the conviction and certainty she felt, and that was substantial.
“You wouldn’t have to sell so many or worry so much about price if you just left me...”
“I will not! How could you even suggest that I leave you here to deal with Lord Devaux yourself?” She took the few steps that separated them and knelt down on the floor at Henrietta’s feet. “We will wait until I have enough money for both of us to survive. I will never leave you.”
Henrietta squeezed Adriana’s shoulder gratefully. “But...”
There was a knock at the door. Before Adriana could respond, Lord Devaux himself walked into the room.
About the Author
Meredith Bond is an award-winning author of a series of traditionally published Regency romances and indie-published paranormal romances. Known for her characters “who slip readily into one’s heart,” Meredith’s heart belongs to her husband and two children. Along with writing romance, Meredith also teaches writing. If you would like a taste of her class in book form, Chapter One is available at your favorite e-retailer.
Want to know more? Come visit Meredith at her website, or chat with her on Facebook or Twitter (@merrybond).
If you’d like to be one of the first to know of Meredith’s newest releases and all the news as well as an occasional free short story, sign up for her newsletter.
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