A False Proposal

by Pam Mingle

  “For a walk.”

  “Be so good as to wait a moment. I’ll get my—”

  “I’ve no need of a chaperone. I don’t intend to be gone long or go far afield.”

  “Nevertheless, you should not be alone.” She turned back toward her chamber to get her bonnet, and Cass tried a different approach.

  “You look tired, Cousin. There’s a group gathered in the drawing room. Wouldn’t it be more restful to sit and have a comfortable chat with Jenny’s mother and the other chaperones?”

  Her cousin paused, thinking it over. Deciding if it would be proper for her charge to walk out alone, and if she was willing to relinquish this modicum of control over her. After giving Cass a suspicious look, she relented. “You may be right. I would enjoy that. See you are back in time to dress for dinner.”

  “Of course,” Cass said, feeling like a child of Philippa’s age instead of a grown woman. Sighing with frustration, she hurried away before Louisa changed her mind. If she wouldn’t even allow Cass to explore the expansive—and perfectly safe—park by herself, what would the rest of the week be like? She’d be hovering every time Cass turned around.

  Cass skipped down the front steps, her bonnet flapping against her legs. She paused a moment at the bottom to don her hat and admire the parterre gracing the front of the home. The intricate geometrical beds were planted with iris, lobelia, petunias, and gillyflowers. One section was filled with a profusion of blooming roses, white, damask, and deep red. Since rose was Cass’s favorite scent, she thought they smelled enchanting. The parterre was beautifully designed and meticulously cared for, and the purples, pinks, and scarlets did much to relieve the stark façade of the Jacobean home.

  Deborah owned a lovely piece of property, and Cass intended to explore it more fully another day. For now she’d make do with following the graveled path through the wood near the house. In the distance, she caught sight of Jack, Jenny on his arm, studying a temple that had been constructed near a pond. Since their betrothal, Jenny’s mother had allowed the couple a greater degree of privacy. Oh, how she envied them that. The path would take Cass in a different direction, which was good, since she didn’t feel like socializing, even with her brother and his fiancée.

  No sooner had she stepped onto the path than she saw a man walking toward her. She couldn’t see his face, but nevertheless recognized Adam immediately by his form and gait. Had he been out walking around since their arrival, deliberately avoiding his guests? He hesitated for a split second before approaching her, which made her suspect she was the last person he wanted to see.

  “Miss Linford,” he said formally. But his eyes were warm.

  “Mr. Grey.” Cass wondered how much longer they’d keep up this formality, though she was to blame for starting it in the first place, that day Jack had brought him home. Since their kiss the night of the dinner party, it hardly seemed necessary, except perhaps in public. Adam was wearing tight fitting riding britches with a blue, swallow-tailed coat. He seemed a bit disheveled, which didn’t make him any less attractive. When he offered his arm, it was her turn to hesitate.

  “You appear to be on your way to the house. I can go on by myself,” she pointed out.

  “Come, let me walk with you. It would give me pleasure.”

  …

  When Cass wrapped her fingers around Adam’s arm, a stab of that pleasure shot through him, and he barely registered it when she spoke.

  “This is quite a spacious park,” she commented. And then, “Adam?”

  She was staring at him, and he wondered how many seconds had passed since she’d spoken. He gave his head a shake. Pay attention, fool. At least he’d caught the question. “Indeed. I’m very pleased this property belongs to my mother outright.”

  “It was in her family, I think?”

  Adam nodded. “When Deborah and my father married, it was placed in trust for her. After she left him, she applied to the trustee for occupation of the house and grounds.” He gazed thoughtfully down at Cass. “The townhome belongs to my father, however. He could put her out at any time.”

  “The night of the dinner party she mentioned that he allowed her to live there. That was how she put it. I wondered…” Cass paused.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I simply wondered if she was afraid he would reclaim it someday. If she worried about it.”

  “He hasn’t shown any inclination to do so. Yet,” he added. “Deborah, as I’m sure you have noticed by now, is of a very sanguine nature. If the thought has occurred to her, she’s never said a word to me.”

  “Do you think he might?”

  After today, nothing the old bastard could do would surprise Adam. Knowing what a disaster his father’s finances were in, the only surprise was that he hadn’t already sold it out from under her.

  “Adam?”

  “My apologies. The truth is, one never knows with my father, which is why I’m grateful Deborah owns this estate. She could live here year-round, if need be.”

  They walked on, and Cass said, “Are you planning to visit Sir William this week?”

  “I am. Your brother wrote to him on my behalf, did you know?” When Cass nodded, he continued. “He’ll be expecting me.”

  As they rounded a curve, a folly came into view, and Cass let out a little squeal of delight. A wide smile broke over her face.

  “Oh, look at this! Do the wood nymphs reside there?” she teased, eyes sparkling.

  “Only in my wildest dreams,” Adam said. Her smile enchanted him, made his breath catch. “Let’s walk around to the other side.”

  Stepping off the path, they wound their way through low-growing foliage until they’d reached the far side. He led her up the few steps into the small, dark interior. A circular stone bench had been built right into the walls, and they sat down on it. Adam let the quiet wash over him. A gentle soughing of the wind was the only sound, and Cass seemed at ease with silence, too.

  After they’d rested for a while, he noticed the coolness in the secluded little copse. “Are you warm enough?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” She pulled her shawl more tightly about her, though, and he knew she wouldn’t be fine much longer.

  “Do you ever think about our summers here in Surrey?” Adam asked. He didn’t know where that sprang from.

  “Sometimes,” Cass admitted. “Why do you ask?”

  “I always envied you and Jack because you seemed so carefree. Never a shadow of anything disagreeable hanging over you to spoil your happiness.”

  “It was a happy childhood. Aside from the fact that I always wanted to be included in whatever you and my brother were doing, and often was left out. Other than that one tiny flaw, it was close to idyllic, I suppose.”

  “Now, wait a minute. My memory is quite different. More often than not, we did include you in our jaunts about the countryside.”

  “Only when you took pity on me because I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for that. Jack did everything he could to prevent it. In hindsight, I can understand why and forgive him, but at the time I hated him for it.”

  In some ways, Cass was still that girl who used to follow them about and demand to ride and hunt and explore. But Adam was aware, too aware, of her physical maturity. Her undeniable loveliness. He had the feeling that behind the brave face she showed in public, a profound sadness lurked. The tragedy with her fiancé could certainly be to blame for that, curse Bentley, and the loss of both her parents. It wasn’t just sadness, but the weight of responsibility, too. He did not understand why Cassie had taken on the education of her sister, and why Jack didn’t insist on a governess for the child. He’d pursue that with her later, if an opportunity presented itself.

  “What?” Cass said, startling him out of his thoughts. “Why are you staring at me?” Lord, this was the second or third time he’d been so distracted she’d had to prod him back to the moment.

  “Forgive me. I was thinking about—”

  “Your unhappi
ness as a boy? I had no awareness of it then, although I did wonder why we saw so little of your parents. And your mother didn’t make calls.”

  Adam had no wish to discuss his father and mother and the shameful circumstances of their marriage. Cass knew too much as it was. So he went with his instinct. “No. I wasn’t thinking of that.” He glanced at her, holding her gaze, and said, “Actually, it occurred to me that I might be able to think of a way you could properly thank me. You owe me a great deal, you know, and your debt has accumulated interest over the years. It’s no small thing now.”

  Adam had no idea how she would react to his teasing, so a thrill pulsed through him when she laughed. Her face flushed, she said, “You’ll have to show me exactly what you mean.”

  He hadn’t expected her to be so brazen. He felt his breath coming faster, his heart pounding. Offering her sensual mouth, her smooth, rounded cheeks, for his delectation, Cass leaned toward him, waiting. Adam desperately wanted to kiss her again, to feel her body with its tempting curves against his. But he hesitated because of the blatant lie he had told his father about her earlier today. She would never forgive him if she knew. He’d feel like a cad if he took advantage of her now. So although he trembled with the effort of controlling his urges, he backed off.

  Shock and embarrassment registered on Cass’s lovely face. And why not, since he’d been the one who suggested she repay her debt with kisses? She leaped to her feet, but he remained seated, knowing her effect on him was much too obvious in the light colored breeches.

  “We had better get back, Adam,” she said tersely.

  Reluctantly, he rose. “As you wish,” he said. They made their way back to the path, and because the silence was no longer comfortable, Adam said, “I’ve been wondering about how you’re getting on, Cassie. You hide it well, but I fear you are troubled.” He’d meant it kindly, but she didn’t take it that way.

  She scowled up at him. “You are mistaken, Adam. Why do you view me thus?”

  Deuce take it, now he’d gotten too personal and made her angry. If she were still speaking to him by the end of this walk, it would be a miracle. But he plunged ahead. “Your fiancé’s death, for one thing. That would be hard for anyone to bear at such a young age. By your own admission, you sequestered yourself after the tragedy.”

  “It’s in the past. I rarely think of it anymore. I told you that the night of the dinner party.”

  “That doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt by it.”

  She bristled. “Of course I was hurt by it, but it is no longer uppermost in my mind. That is how I prefer it.”

  He bumbled on. “And—and your parents. They both died since I last saw you. I wasn’t here to offer my condolences. May I do so now?”

  At that she softened. “Thank you. My mother’s death was hard. She contracted an inflammation of the lung that could not be cured, and she died slowly. At the end, she stayed at Birch Lane with me, and I did all I could to ease her passing.” She grimaced. “The one thing she wanted before she died, I could not give her. She was so distraught after Bentley’s death, and wanted above all else for me to marry. For her sake, I was sorry it was not to be.”

  Adam had questions about Bentley, but now was not the time. “And your father?” he asked.

  That actually brought a wistful smile. “He died sitting in his favorite chair, reading Homer. The doctor said it was his heart. We found out afterward that he’d experienced some weakness and had been warned to take more exercise and shed some pounds. He didn’t follow the doctor’s advice.”

  “If their marriage was as you described to me, he must have missed your mother terribly.”

  She nodded. “Jack and I think he died of a broken heart.”

  Adam found himself at a loss for words. And then Cass spoke again.

  “The volume he was reading when he died…we lost it somehow. Jack and I sorted through all of Papa’s books and disposed of more than a hundred—duplicates, mainly. But this particular book was one he had written, classical mythology for children. He had compiled the stories he used to tell me when I was growing up. There had only been a limited number of volumes published, and most were given as gifts. I must have inadvertently put it with the books to be given away.” Her voice caught, and she stopped talking. He noticed she blamed herself, not Jack.

  “So it was precious to you.”

  She blinked away tears. “Oh, yes. I helped him with it. To get the wording right, exactly as he’d told the stories to me. It grieves me that through my own carelessness, it’s lost to me forever.”

  Adam clutched her hand and squeezed it, but didn’t say anything.

  “Heavens, Adam, your questions are making me maudlin. Despite everything, I am not unhappy. Please do not think of me that way.

  So he simply said, “I’m sorry, Cassie, if I misjudged. Forgive me?”

  Her discerning brown eyes studied his face for a long moment. “Of course I forgive you.”

  God, how he wanted to wrap her in his arms. Resisting the urge was torture. Cursing himself for what Cass no doubt deemed his inexplicable behavior, he guided them toward the house.

  …

  Get hold of yourself, you ninny. Cass had wanted Adam to kiss her so badly. Kiss her and pull her into his arms as he’d done before. And she’d been sure he was about to do just that. Although she had sensed he wanted the same thing, something had held him back. Maybe he thought her too vulnerable because he believed she was unhappy. Good God! Do people view me as Miss Dirge? Is that how I appear to the world?

  But something else was amiss. The entire time they’d been together, she’d felt his distraction like a barrier between them. It had made her uncomfortable and overly sensitive, which was why she’d snapped at him when he accused her of being despondent. That and the fact that he apparently had some aversion to kissing her again. And now they walked in near total silence, only the chittering of a pair of squirrels disturbing the quiet. Thank God they didn’t have much farther to go.

  As they rounded the side of the house, Cass heard the unmistakable sound of carriage wheels. Surprised that anyone would be arriving so late, she said, “Are you expecting someone else?”

  “One more guest and her chaperone, I believe. Pardon me, Cass. I must do the honors. I shall see you at dinner.” He turned and strode toward the newly arrived equipage as the steps were being lowered.

  She started to answer, but Adam wasn’t listening. His attention was now completely riveted on the young lady stepping down from the carriage. She was a tall, shapely blonde, and looked even younger than Elizabeth Morgan, if that were possible. Adam had felt no obligation earlier, when she’d arrived. Perhaps the young lady was someone special to him.

  He offered his hand to assist her on the last step. “Miss Broxton?” Cass heard him say. “And Lady Broxton,” he said to an older woman descending the carriage steps.

  Now it made sense. Sir William’s daughter and wife. If Adam were to have any hope of gaining the House of Commons seat, he would have to cultivate Broxton’s patronage. And what better way to do so than by courting his daughter? Leonora wasn’t here, so she may be out of the running. Trying to ignore the prickles of jealousy stabbing at her, Cass hurried up the front steps before she was caught staring. Deborah must have been informed by a footman that the last of her guests had arrived, because she was approaching the front door as Cass entered. “Ta, darling,” she said as she swished past.

  Cass smiled but didn’t answer. She dashed up to her bedchamber to prepare for the evening and get as far away as possible from the scene out front. No doubt she would be forced to endure a scold from Cousin Louisa on how little time she’d left for her toilette.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cass had no opportunity to speak to Adam at dinner, having been seated at some distance from him. Most of the ladies retired to their chambers after drinking tea. The men played cards and drank, but even they made it an early evening. On Sunday morning, several guests, Cass and her family included
, attended church in the village.

  For the remainder of the day, most were content with exploring the park, horse riding, or playing croquet on the broad expanse of lawn. Cass, managing to sneak away from Louisa, walked both in the morning and afternoon. It was on that second walk that she spied Adam with Eleanor Broxton on his arm. He appeared to be giving her a tour of the property. Well. Cass hadn’t merited such attention from him; in fact, they hadn’t even spoken since yesterday, beyond what good manners required.

  So it was no surprise to her that she was once again placed nowhere near Adam at dinner. She’d probably have to shout if she wanted his attention. Or throw a piece of food. She vowed not to look his way even once. Miss Broxton claimed the spot on one side of him, while Jenny had the honor of sitting on the other. Cass was seated between Frederick Cochran, Deborah’s gentleman friend, and Atherton. At least she’d escaped sitting by Hugh, who was sandwiched between Cousin Louisa and Jenny’s mother. From what Cass could observe, however, he was charming them both between sips of soup and wine.

  Cass made polite conversation with her dinner partners, although Mr. Cochran was disinterested at best. While she was attempting to converse with him, his eyes invariably strayed toward Deborah. Atherton’s interests leaned toward politics, so she talked with him about the Perceval assassination.

  “John Bellingham was the assassin, I believe,” Cass said. “Have you ever heard of him?”

  “Never. Reports say he was seen in the gallery of Commons recently, but there’s no law against that. By all accounts the man made no attempt to get away. He admitted his guilt and sat quietly until someone had the presence of mind to convey him to the prison room.”

  “It was fortunate that the expected mob violence did not occur.”

  Cass was forced to break her vow and look at Adam, since it was he who had spoken.

  “In some parts of the country, the good citizens cheered Perceval’s death,” Atherton said.

  Cass shuddered. She knew people blamed the Prime Minister for the hard economic times, but even so, to rejoice over his murder seemed barbaric. The man had twelve children, for pity’s sake. “His grudge against Perceval was over some perceived personal injury, which he blamed on the government,” Cass said. “He wasn’t connected with the Luddites, or any other dissenters.” Sensing Adam’s gaze on her long after she’d spoken, Cass felt her cheeks warm. Footmen were serving the second course, so she turned her attention to the portion of fish on her plate.