by Pam Mingle
As they spun around the floor, Cass noticed Hugh dancing with Eleanor and wondered if he had an interest there. The two seemed to get on well. After that, she simply allowed herself to be caught up in the moment. Adam held her close, and now that they were “betrothed,” she did not care what people might think.
“I’ve been watching you all evening, darling.” His voice was low and seductive. “You’re quite the vixen in that dress. Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t swept you into my arms and up to my chamber.”
Cass laughed. “I wish you would. This is torture.”
“You’re so beautiful, Cass. Every man in the room is drooling with envy.”
“Ha! You exaggerate. Every woman is wondering why you chose me.”
“Only if they’re fools.” His eyes were warm, holding a sweet promise, and he leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips.
When she realized that some sort of ruckus seemed to be occurring near the door, Cass tore her eyes away from Adam’s. She heard shouting, and gradually the orchestra ceased playing. Adam hurried to the musicians and urged them to continue, then did the same with the dancing couples. Cass followed him to the main door where she saw a slovenly looking older man arguing with Hugh. Adam’s brother had a firm hold on the man’s arm and was urging him into the hall. This could be none other than Benjamin Grey. Oh, no. He’ll ruin the evening.
Adam spun around and said, “Cass, return to our guests. This is a private matter that Hugh and I must deal with.”
She nodded and realized she was not alone. Deborah had come up to stand beside her. “I have not seen him in years,” she said. “What a sad sight he is.”
“Did you invite him?”
Deborah’s laugh was harsh. “Certainly not. I would like to know how he found out.”
“Probably village gossips.” Cass linked arms with the older woman. “Come, let’s get some ratafia. If we stand here watching, sooner or later so will all the guests.”
“You are right,” Deborah said. “But I need something much stronger than ratafia.”
Before they could steal away, matters deteriorated. Despite his drunkenness, and the fact that his two grown sons—both large, strong men—were attempting to wrestle him out of the ballroom, Benjamin Grey managed to stand his ground. “Marry the Broxton chit, Adam. I’m ruined if you don’t.”
“Come out in the hall, Father, and we’ll discuss it,” Adam said. It was as though the old man were frozen in place. Eyes bulging, he reddened with the effort to stay put. Cass worried he might suffer a heart seizure and collapse on the spot.
“Won’t have Hugh.” He looked at his older son, who was sweating with the effort of removing his father from the room. “Sorry, boy. Won’t have you. Wants Adam, war hero.” He paused and looked around for a moment, then said, “Christ almighty, where am I?” Suddenly he went limp.
His sons used the opportunity to carry him to a nearby chamber. The ballroom had gone quiet, even though the musicians had valiantly tried to play on, and Cass wondered how much of the exchange the guests had heard. Most of them had deserted the dance floor and flocked toward where the action was taking place. The Broxtons, Cass noted with horror, were front and center. What must Sir William be thinking? In a few moments, she heard Broxton bidding Deborah a good evening. Then he turned to his wife and daughter. “Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“But Papa,” Eleanor said, “we are not packed.”
“You will be in the time it takes to pull the carriage around. See to it!”
Cass and Deborah glanced at each other, both with a knowing look in their eyes. This would not end well for Adam.
Deborah turned to the guests, clapped her hands, and said, “Come, everybody! This is a night of celebration. Let’s resume dancing.” She signaled the musicians, who immediately started a new piece. Dancers crowded onto the floor, willing, apparently, to do what they were told.
Cass edged her way toward the corridor and the closed door. Retreating to the shadows, she leaned against the wall and waited. Adam would no doubt need propping up after this, and she wanted to help. In a minute or two, the door opened. She heard him instructing Scott, Deborah’s butler, who must have been in the room with them, to have Benjamin Grey’s carriage brought round. Just after, Hugh came out with his father, supporting him with an arm about his shoulders, and they walked slowly down the hall. Soon Scott reappeared and grabbed hold of the drunken man’s other arm.
Cass was uncertain. Should she go to Adam, who hadn’t yet left the room, or wait for him to exit? She took a step forward, and suddenly there he was. He closed the door, then sighed deeply and leaned his forehead into the wood. After a few seconds, he stood up, then brushed his clothes off and ran a hand through his hair. Cass felt as though she were spying on him.
“Adam,” she said, stepping out where he could see her.
“Stay put, Cass,” he said. He walked over to her and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Here, let’s go through these doors. They lead to the conservatory. We can get outside for a breath of air for a few minutes.”
They passed through the conservatory and out the doors leading to one end of the terrace. Adam steered Cass toward a large potted shrub, and they kept to one side of it, where any guests exiting from the ballroom could not see them.
“I’m so sorry, Adam. I didn’t realize he was…”
“Hard to find the right word, isn’t it?” He left her side and began to pace. “Do you see now why I can’t marry?”
“Because of your father’s behavior? Granted, it’s appalling, but most women have been exposed to drunkenness, Adam. It wouldn’t be such a great burden.”
“You don’t know everything, Cass. What I wouldn’t give if that were the only problem. There are things about my family…I’d rather die than expose you to them.” He stopped his pacing and watched her.
Cass saw a man who looked defeated. He had such a look of despair on his face, she wanted to weep. She stepped forward and framed his face with her hands. “You are a grown man. A good man. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Adam grabbed her wrists. “No? Broxton has left.”
When Cass didn’t say anything, he said, “It’s true, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But we already knew your father had made an enemy of him. Don’t assume Sir William puts you in the same category.”
“How could he not? I would, under the same circumstances.” Before Cass could respond, Adam said, “We must return to the ballroom. We’re the guests of honor, after all. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you put this incident out of your mind for the rest of the evening?”
“I’ll try,” Cass said.
Somehow, they made it through the supper, the announcement of their betrothal and accompanying toast, and several more dances. By the time the carriages had departed and the house party guests had retired, Cass was exhausted. She couldn’t help wondering, though, if Adam would come to her chamber tonight. She would not turn him away if he did. But at the end of the night he walked her to her room and gave her a chaste kiss good night.
“It’s been a long evening, Cassie. I’ll see you in the morning.”
That cleared things up. He did not turn around as he strode down the hall. She watched him all the way, a handsome, brooding figure, though she noticed he was limping slightly. Once inside her chamber, Cass dropped onto the bed and lowered her face into her hands. She remained that way until Agnes arrived to help her undress.
Chapter Twenty
When Cass first glimpsed Adam at breakfast, she knew a night’s sleep hadn’t helped his mood. His expression was stony, his jaw set. He looked up from his paper long enough to nod a greeting to her. While a footman poured her tea, she filled her plate with rolls, shirred eggs, and bacon. Nibbling half-heartedly, she listened to Jenny’s description of some of the items she’d purchased on the recent trip to the village. An unusual clasp for her hair. A new bonnet. A copy of Lord Byron’s latest vol
ume of poetry, Childe Harold.
Most of the guests were preparing to leave and did not linger over breakfast. Finally, Jack, Jenny, Adam, and Cass were the only ones left. Adam folded his paper and set it aside.
“I intend to visit Sir William this morning.”
“The timing is unfortunate,” Jack said.
Adam nodded. “I am not optimistic, but he has said he would consider me, and I must have his answer, whatever it is.”
Cass said, “He and your father were at odds before Jack even wrote to him about you. Last night’s antics couldn’t have come as a great shock to him.”
“You’re right, of course. But Sir William heard what my father said in a crowded ballroom about Eleanor. The man probably felt humiliated.”
“I don’t think too many people could make out what he was saying,” Jenny said.
“Enough did to get his back up,” Jack said. “And all the gossips will soon get wind of it. Then there is the matter of your engagement to Cass.” Cass felt heat rise in her cheeks.
Adam stood. “We could discuss it all morning and still not know where things stand. I must be on my way.”
“Should we wait for your return before we depart?” Jack asked.
Adam had turned to go, but spun back around. “Would you mind? We’ll need to settle some things once we know Broxton’s decision. In fact, I think you should stay over tonight.”
As soon as Adam’s footsteps could no longer be heard, Cass said, “I must tell Louisa we aren’t leaving today. She’s been supervising the packing. She’ll be angry.”
“And I should tell Mama,” Jenny said.
“I was wondering,” Cass said, “if there was some way I could get out of riding home with Louisa. I rather wanted to strangle her on the way here.” She looked at Jack imploringly.
“My mother is quite fond of Louisa,” Jenny said.
Simultaneously, Cass and Jack said, “She is?”
Jenny laughed. “She has a few redeeming qualities, you know. Why don’t I suggest that the two of them ride home in our carriage, and you and I can ride in yours? Jack, what do you think?”
“As long as I don’t have to ride with her, whatever you decide suits me.”
Both girls gave him a quelling look before taking themselves off to find the two older women.
…
Adam was accorded a cordial welcome by Sir William and led into a drawing room with tall sash windows and comfortable groupings of furniture. Eleanor rang for tea. “Mama is out making calls,” she said. Once the tea was poured, she excused herself.
“I’m glad you called, Grey,” Sir William said as soon as they’d resumed their seats. The Viscount tells me you wish to stand for Commons as my candidate.” There was a hardness around his mouth that made Adam uneasy.
“Yes, sir. Linford supports my election.”
“I was inclined to give you a chance. My current man is ready to retire. To say the truth, he hasn’t been worth much for several years. Too old, and in his cups more often than not. Don’t even think he attends sessions on a regular basis.”
Adam had not missed his use of the past tense, and so waited with dread to hear the rest. Despite what had happened at the ball, he’d hoped the man could separate the election from his troubles with Adam’s father.
“But I’m afraid the stand-off with Benjamin over the debt he owes me, combined with his actions of last night, have changed my mind.” Looking like he’d just been poked with a cattle prod, he tilted his head forward and peered at Adam. “I detested my Eleanor witnessing his unseemly behavior. And half of Haslemere looking on, too. It’s an outrage.”
Broxton sat back in his chair and kept his accusatory gaze fixed on Adam, who felt like a schoolboy about to be sent down. “Given your parentage, I’m not sure I can trust you to do your duty as an MP. I’ve concluded that all the Grey men are alike.”
“I am not my father, sir,” Adam said stiffly, using every ounce of self-control he possessed not to rage at the unfairness of this statement. It was one thing for him to fear he might turn out like his father, but another matter altogether for someone else to accuse him of it. Interesting that Sir William had made no mention of his wish for Adam to marry Eleanor, which was what had set all of these events in motion. Apparently, he’d had no qualms about Adam’s character when he suggested that.
Sir William continued as though he hadn’t heard. “Your conduct in the war was exemplary. I’d assumed you might work toward ending this interminable conflict.”
Adam leaned forward. “That’s exactly what I wish to do, sir. It’s the foremost reason I want a seat in Commons.”
Sir William made no response, merely sat staring at Adam with his arms crossed over his chest. Very carefully Adam placed his teacup on the table. Above all else, he wanted to depart with his dignity—what little he apparently had left—intact. “My apologies if Miss Broxton was in any way hurt by my father’s actions.” Adam wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t responsible.
Sir William shifted in his chair and spoke at last. “I had hoped you might make a match with my Eleanor.”
Ah, there it was at last. “But I am betrothed to Miss Linford. Surely you would not have expected me to break my engagement. What kind of man would that make me?” Adam cringed inside at his own hypocrisy.
“That is not what your father led me to believe.”
“You must understand, Sir William, that I have had no contact with my father. Until a few days ago, I hadn’t seen him in years.”
His brows shot up, and hope rose in Adam’s chest that he might reconsider his decision. But no. Sir William got to his feet and said, “I am sorry we could not have concluded this in a way that was satisfactory for us both.”
That I marry your daughter in exchange for a seat in Commons? Adam was certain that if he offered to jilt Cass there and then and marry Eleanor, Broxton would agree.
When the man did not offer to shake hands, Adam bowed and said, “I’ll see myself out.”
He couldn’t really blame anybody else for his father’s behavior; yet all the way home he wondered why Sir William had continued to gamble with the old man. At some point, Broxton must have known he couldn’t honor his debt. It was as if he had wanted to force Benjamin Grey into a hole he could never crawl out of.
As soon as he arrived at the estate, Adam retreated to the library. He knew the others were probably waiting for him, but he badly needed some time alone to mull over all that had happened today. He poured himself a whiskey and sank into his chair. God, but he was tired. Tired of everything.
He drank a long swallow and ruminated. On the way home, he’d begun to think about Cassie. What he had said to Sir William about being engaged to her. Christ, he felt like a scoundrel. And a liar. He’d said to the man, “I’m not my father,” but was it true? He was certainly acting like him.
It struck him that he was using Cass in the worst sort of way imaginable. Adam should never have agreed to her plan for them to be lovers. If she’d agreed to play the part of his betrothed, that would have been one thing. Even asking that was less than honorable. But when she’d raised the possibility of more, well, that had changed everything. The fact that he hadn’t been strong enough to reject it out of hand spoke volumes about his true character. He had allowed her to persuade him that she didn’t want marriage because she didn’t trust men. Well, she’d been right not to trust him. A decent man would have put paid to her plan before anything had occurred. A decent man would have figured out a way to help her rather than sleep with her. Instead, he’d thought only of himself.
It sickened Adam to draw this conclusion, but the evidence was undeniable. He was turning into his father. He wasn’t good enough for Cass. Would never be good enough for her. The whole scheme hadn’t felt right from the outset. Lying to his mother, Hugh, and his friends. And after making love to Cass, he hadn’t allowed himself to express his true feelings to her. Not when their engagement was a sham.
There was
only one thing to do, and that was to end the whole scheme with Cass, before she was hurt beyond repair. She was a lady, and one whom he admired and respected. Yes, and lusted after. As long as they allowed the pretense of an engagement to go on, that would be the case, and he wasn’t sure if he could resist her. He would seek Cass out right now, before he had time to change his mind, and tell her it was over. There was just enough time to get it done before they had to dress for dinner.
…
Cass had been keeping watch for Adam for the past hour or so. Earlier, she had been out for a walk; afterward she’d joined in a game of piquet with Jenny, Jenny’s mother, and Deborah. Cousin Louisa sat nearby embroidering, and when Cass had said she was tired of cards, her cousin happily took her place.
She tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. Nevertheless, she resolutely held the book out in front of her and hoped nobody would notice that she turned the page very infrequently. Just when she thought she might lose her mind, she glimpsed Adam in the doorway. He seemed in a good enough humor, but she knew it could be for show.
“Good evening, ladies.” After some desultory talk about nothing, he made his way over to Cass and said, “Come to the library with me?” The others, absorbed in their game, hardly gave them a second glance.
She nodded and followed him from the room. Adam poured himself a whiskey and she accepted a glass of sherry. Instead of sitting behind the desk, he seated himself next to her on the settee. He was quiet, sober, and Cass concluded that the news could not be good.
Adam swallowed a good measure of his drink before speaking. “Sir William intends to look elsewhere for a candidate. Having concluded that ‘all the Grey men are alike,’ he has rejected me.”
Cass set her glass down. “Oh, Adam, no. I am so sorry.”
“I’ve made my peace with his decision, Cassie. Don’t distress yourself.” He reached for her hand and gently enfolded it in his much larger one.
“But your hopes and dreams, all you wanted to accomplish, lost! I can’t bear it, for your sake. How can you be so calm about it?”
