by Pam Mingle
Adam raised her hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “There is nothing I can do short of marrying his daughter. Despite his apparent dislike of the Grey men, I had the distinct impression that if I’d suggested breaking my engagement to you and offering for Eleanor, he would have changed his view quite readily.”
“What a hypocrite.”
Adam poured himself another whiskey and walked over to stand by the windows. “Perhaps. I’m extremely disappointed in not being his candidate, but the greater anguish is to have someone accuse me of being like my father.”
“Broxton doesn’t know you, Adam. If he did, he wouldn’t accuse you of something so blatantly false.”
He glanced at Cass, his expression so desolate she wanted to weep. “Are you certain?” He tossed back his drink and set the glass down. “Look at what I’ve done to you. First asking you to pretend to be engaged to me. That was bad enough, but then when you suggested we become lovers, instead of doing the gentlemanly thing and refusing, I slept with you.” He paused and rubbed a hand over his face. “You say I’m a good man, but a good man would not have agreed. He would have been more concerned about your reputation, your happiness, and would have tried to help you overcome your mistrust of men before bedding you.”
Cass rose, shaking her head. “No, Adam. You’re wrong. I asked for this arrangement, and as far as I’m concerned…” Her voice petered out. She knew there were aspects of it that made her uncomfortable, too, partly due to her own indecision about whether she would be happier with marriage. Yet she was not at all ready to give up the intimacy she had just found with Adam because of a few lingering doubts.
“See? You’re not convinced either.”
She walked over to him and grasped his arm. “Doesn’t intimacy always involve a degree of uncertainty, by its very nature? I know it’s made me more vulnerable, but I will never regret what we did. Never.”
Adam smiled, that sweet, closed-mouth smile she believed was for her alone. “I’m glad of that, at least.” He pulled her into his arms, pressing rough kisses on her mouth. Electrified by his touch, she molded herself against him, trying to fit her curves to his flat planes and angles. When his hands clutched her bottom, she felt his tumescence and thought she might scream with her need for him.
Then, with a curse, he backed away from her. “No,” he said. “No.”
Cass knew he desired her, but he’d apparently made up his mind to resist her. “I’m sorry that wanting me makes you feel…corrupted, somehow,” she said, her throat thick. “Will you now wish to forget what we did? Never think of it again?”
“You are a lady, Cassie. I stole something precious from you. Your innocence.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. I asked you to make love to me, Adam. I was a willing—more than willing—participant.” She probably should have stopped herself, but now she was angry as well as hurt. “If you truly believe you stole my innocence, isn’t it far worse that you did so and now wish to forsake me?”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “That’s not…I’m not…”
He couldn’t even finish his sentence.
Don’t cry. Do not cry, she commanded herself.
Adam’s jaw was set stubbornly. They were at an impasse, and she would have to be the one to give way. She must accept his decision and try to salvage their friendship—and her dignity. Drawing back, she forced herself to say, “Fine. No more of this, then. But I am not giving up on your political career. What will you do now that Sir William won’t have you?”
“I’m not giving up either, Cass. As soon as I’m back in town, I’ll start inquiring about other constituencies that might be in need of a candidate. I am not without connections. Somebody’s bound to know.”
Cass was only half listening. She was forming her own plan. “I think I shall stay in the country for a few more days. Possibly longer.”
Adam cocked his head at her. “Why? What can be done here?”
“If you must know, I would like some time by myself. Do you think Deborah would mind if I remained here, or should I decamp to Birch Lane?”
Adam’s eyes softened. “Of course you can stay here. Birch Lane is twice the size of this place. You’d be lost there, all by yourself.”
Cass nodded. “What about the engagement? What should we do? Jack will need to know if we’re calling it off.”
Adam sat on the edge of the desk. “I’ll inform Jack of Sir William’s decision. As to others, for now, we do nothing. The announcement has just been in the papers. It would look exceedingly odd if you cried off this quickly.” He paused. “If you wouldn’t mind, there may be some matters you can assist me with when you come up to London.”
“Of course. I said I wanted to help, and I meant it.” And she did, even though her heart was breaking. She turned to leave, then thought she might as well ask what was uppermost on her mind. “One question, Adam. Did your father have affairs? Is that what scares you about us? About marriage?”
She was standing close enough that she could see the pulse at his temple jumping. “I never discuss it, Cass. Don’t ask it of me.”
She nodded. “Very well, but it’s difficult for me to understand without knowing the truth.” Just as she was about to exit the room, she heard his voice.
“The truth is far worse than you can imagine.” Cass spun around and looked at him straight on, waiting for him to elaborate. He did not. She shut the door quietly behind her.
Cass was so distracted while Agnes was helping her dress that the poor woman had to repeat questions a second and third time: “Which necklace do you wish to wear? How shall I arrange your hair? Oh, there’s a spot on you slipper.” Her answer to everything was, “Do what you think best, Agnes.”
Cass was thinking about Adam and his father. The broken down man who had disrupted the ball. Try as she might, she could see no evidence to support the idea that Adam was anything like the man. But she understood that it did not matter what she, or anyone else, believed, but only what Adam believed about himself.
Chapter Twenty-One
Adam parted from Cass with a virtuous kiss on the cheek. It worried him that she seemed so tranquil. Was she hiding her true feelings? He’d had difficulty holding back his own, reining in his urge to hold her and kiss her and never let her go. Jack had accepted her decision to remain behind with equanimity, not questioning it, only asking if she was sure it was what she wanted.
Because he was driving his curricle, Adam was able to make better time than the others. The traveling arrangements had made him chuckle. It had finally been worked out that Jenny’s mother would ride with Cass’s cousin. Jenny would travel in her coach, with Jack riding alongside. Adam knew, though, that Jack would end up inside the coach with his fiancée at intervals. And that was what made him laugh. Jack was a lucky devil.
Cass staying on in the country for a time was for the best. Until he knew what the next steps were for him, there would not be much she could do to help, if indeed she truly wanted to do so. Tomorrow, Adam would sit down and make a plan for finding another constituency. Other options open to him held no appeal. He wasn’t titled; his only hope for Parliament was in Commons. He had no estates to manage. Perhaps some MP, or a lower-level cabinet minister, needed a secretary. But oh, hell, was that really how he wanted to spend the rest of his life?
…
After he’d been in town a few days, he was ready to put his plan in motion. He’d spend time at the coffee room at the House of Commons, where he could rub elbows with MPs, and would probably run into some with whom he was already acquainted.
One rainy afternoon when he’d grown tired of lying passively in wait for influential MPs, he dashed out to Hatchard’s Bookshop in Piccadilly. They did not have what he wanted, but the helpful proprietor gave him a list of other shops to try. It was a start.
Evenings found him musing before the fire in his library, sipping a whiskey before he dined alone. Oh, he had the usual number of invitations, but he wasn’t very enth
usiastic about any of them. He would have to start accepting some, however. He needed the exposure.
His thoughts turned to Cass most nights, and at odd moments during the day. What was she doing all alone in Deborah’s house? Damnation! Unconsciously, he would compare the sound of some other woman’s voice to hers. Her sweet face, glossy hair, splendid body preoccupied him, whether awake or dreaming. How had he thought he could simply put her out of his mind? He was beginning to realize it wouldn’t be possible.
Adam decided to write her a letter. That would be better than nothing.
…
Cass’s true motive for staying in the country was to devise a plan to persuade Sir William Broxton to change his mind about Adam. She had no idea whether he had a chance at finding another sponsor, but she knew it would not be easy. She’d thought it best that she keep what she was doing to herself. Although Adam had accepted readily enough that Sir William had cast him off, the cause had pained him. Telling him that all the Grey men were alike. Cass knew trying to reason with Adam about it would be for naught, so she would see what she could accomplish on her own.
She was determined to do whatever she could so he was well informed in case things changed. Immersing herself in political news was one way to do that. Even if she could not find an opening to use with Sir William, the information would prove useful for Adam’s efforts in town.
Realizing she hadn’t looked at any of the papers since she’d been in the country, she asked that the Post and Chronicle be brought to her with her breakfast. On the first morning, she read with horror about the Felling Mine explosion, near Newcastle. It was suspected that several children were among the dead, although no bodies had been recovered yet. Cass recalled that Adam was quite passionate about child labor, and she thought he might wish to know the facts as they came to light. She went to the writing desk and drew out a sheet of parchment. Recording the pertinent details was no trouble, and she could do the same with other news.
Cass ventured out of doors as often as she could, roaming all over Deborah’s park. One morning she walked around the lake and paused when she came to the temple. Today the surface of the lake was flat, mirror like. Nothing at all like it had been on that day when Adam had made her forget everything except her own desperate need for him. The day she had told him she wanted them to be lovers. The mere thought of his touch, his kisses, made her heart race, her skin hot. She missed him, longed for him, and wondered if he thought of her at all.
The Grey family was a puzzle to her. What had driven them apart? What was so awful that Adam couldn’t tell her about it? Was it simply Benjamin Grey’s drinking, or was he a gambler, too? Had he kept mistresses? She could only speculate, since Adam refused to talk about it. All of these failings were common in families of the ton, but most of them remained together, despite less than idyllic marriages. Surely the elder Grey couldn’t always have been the wastrel he appeared to be now. If only Adam would tell her about it, she could help heal the wounds his father had inflicted on him.
And then, a few days later, she received a letter from him in the post. She left off flower arranging to read it.
5 June
London
Dearest Cass,
I hope this letter finds you in good health.
I am writing to ask if your needs are being met by Deborah’s staff. I entrusted them with your care and have every expectation they will do their best for you. Please inform me if there is anything not to your liking.
The weather in London is foul. A miasma drifts up from the river, making the air more oppressive and dank than usual. Be glad you are not here because it is bloody terribly unpleasant.
I’ve been spending afternoons at the coffee room in the House of Commons and have made some new acquaintances. What I’ve learned so far is not encouraging. The easiest and fastest way to gain a constituency is to possess a full purse. Next easiest: be under the patronage of a landowner, as I had hoped to be with Sir William. On the whole, local candidates are preferred—outsiders are not welcome. I am beginning to wonder if I should give up. My new friends tell me that introductions to the “right” people, if timely, could make all the difference.
We shall see.
Yours,
A.
Cass threw the letter down in frustration. The tone was formal and impersonal, but hadn’t Adam made it clear that was how he wanted things to be between them? Still, it disheartened her. She read the letter a second time, but could find nothing hopeful about it. Gazing out the window, she thought it would behoove her to speed up her search for an opening with Sir William. Returning to her flowers, she picked up some gladioli stems and inserted them into her arrangement. She was deep in thought when Scott entered the room.
“Very nice, Miss Linford,” he said, eyeing the flowers. “You have visitors.”
“I do?” Cass couldn’t imagine who. She tucked the last stem into the vase and looked up.
“Viscount Linford and Miss Pippa Linford.”
Philippa came crashing into the room. “Cassie!”
Cass knelt down and hugged her sister tightly. “Hello, my darling girl! Let me look at you.” She held Pippa at arm’s length. “Why, I believe you’ve grown at least a few inches in the short time I’ve been away.”
“I have so much to tell you,” the little girl announced. “Cousin Louisa’s gone, Jack rowed with her and sent her away. And I have a governess.”
“What on earth?” Cass said, frowning at her brother.
Pippa continued. “She’s very beautiful, Cass. That’s why Louisa didn’t like her.”
Cass choked back a laugh. The butler was still hovering in the doorway. “Scott, could you send Mrs. Wetherby to me, please? And tea for all of us.”
Jack and Cass sat down and allowed their younger sibling to roam about the room, examining Deborah’s knickknacks. “Don’t—”
“I know, I know. Don’t touch.”
Cass eyed her brother quizzically. “You, brother dear, have some explaining to do.”
Jack looked sheepish. But before he could begin, the housekeeper arrived.
“Mrs. Wetherby, aren’t there some new kittens in the stables? I think my sister would love to see them,” Cass said. “Do you have a girl in the kitchen who could be spared for a few minutes?”
“Of course, Miss Linford.”
Cass called Pippa over and introduced her to the housekeeper. “How would you like to visit some new kittens, Pip?”
“Oh, yes! I’ll be so careful. I won’t squeeze them, I promise.”
“Good girl. I know you’ll be very gentle.”
When Pippa had left and they were settled with tea, sandwiches, and biscuits, Cass said, “Tell me everything.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about this, Cass. After Mama died—and Bentley—tutoring Pippa filled a void in your life. At least I always thought it did.”
Cass nodded and he went on. “And I know you made a promise to our mother. Well, I think you’ve more than fulfilled that promise. If you’re going to be busy helping Adam, it seemed like a good time to make a change.” Jack snatched a sandwich from the plate and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth. “You are still intending to help him, I assume?”
“If I can. And you’re right about a change. I only wish you’d consulted me first.”
“I would have, believe me. But Miss Stanton was available and came highly recommended. I didn’t want to risk losing her.”
“I want to meet her, of course. Does she understand that Pippa isn’t a book learner?”
Jack had moved on to the sweets. “These biscuits are wonderful. What’s in that filling? Almonds?” He brushed crumbs off his coat and continued. “Yes. She thinks our little sister is delightful. Says she’s naturally inquisitive. She’s already taken her to the British Museum, one of the parks, the zoo. That’s what caused the row with Louisa.”
“That’s no surprise. Go on.” Cass narrowed her eyes and looked suspiciously at Jack.
&nb
sp; “Let’s say our cousin took a strong dislike of Miss Stanton almost immediately. She disapproved of everything the woman did.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “You know how she is, Cass. She couldn’t force you into a traditional style of teaching, but she was determined to do so with Miss Stanton. I’m afraid I lost my temper. Rather badly.”
Cass held back a smile. “Did you ask her to leave?”
“No. I didn’t go that far. Later in the day she came to me and said she wanted to go north, to the home of a distant cousin. Nobody we’ve ever heard of. She arranged it and was gone within a few days.”
“I’m away for, what, not even a fortnight, and look what happens. The household falls apart!”
“I thought you’d be happy. About Louisa, anyway.”
“I’m teasing, Jack. I think you’ve made excellent decisions all around. Louisa was never truly content with us, and I was becoming less and less tolerant of her.” Cass rested her head on the back of her chair. “How peaceful our house will be. I must return home just to have the pleasure of it.”
“You’ll write to her?”
“Certainly. I have the feeling it will be much easier to communicate with her by post than it ever was in person.” They both laughed, and then Cass turned serious. “I do hope she will be happier in her new home.”
Talk turned to Adam, and Cass told Jack what little she’d learned from his letter.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be a rough go,” Jack said.
Cass paused in the middle of pouring more tea. “I’ve just now had a thought. Could you intervene, Jack? I remember Papa discussing candidates with Sir William on occasion.”
“I’m afraid it wouldn’t work in this case. The debt Adam’s father owes Broxton is a huge obstacle. Men can owe money all over town, but they must always settle debts of honor. It’s not hard to see why he wouldn’t want Adam for his candidate.”
“Didn’t seem to stop him from wanting Adam as a husband for Eleanor.”
Jack gave his head a shake. “Odd, that. Still, I don’t think I could change his mind.”
