by Pam Mingle
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Seated at her library worktable, Cass finished reuniting a page with its book, slid her finger down the seam to secure it, and slammed the volume shut. Pippa and Jenny lounged nearby on the floor, playing Jackstraws. Rising, Cass hunched and relaxed her shoulders, trying to release the tension that had been plaguing her since she…since Adam. All her thoughts began and ended with him, even when she made a determined effort to think about something else entirely.
Prowling about the room, she glanced at the collection of books lining the shelves. Even though she and Jack had sorted through them after their father’s death, there were hundreds remaining, and they needed organizing. Perhaps this would be a good time to start.
Jenny’s voice broke into her ruminations. Cass hadn’t realized the other girl had come up behind her. “Are you going to isolate yourself forever, my dear?”
Cass raised her brows. “It hasn’t been a week yet.”
Jenny pulled Cass’s arm through hers, and they began a slow circling of the room. Pippa was still playing with the Jackstraws, not paying them any attention. “Adam was at the Chartley’s musicale last night. Did I tell you?”
Cass sighed, something within her breaking apart at the thought of him in society, speaking cordially with people, some of whom would be eligible young ladies. “That is to be expected, Jenny. He asked me to marry him. I said no. Of course he wishes to…to socialize.”
“Just so you know, he looked bored and left early.”
“Oh.” Cass tried to sound as though it didn’t matter to her, but she couldn’t help getting a little boost from that news.
“You should do likewise, Cass.”
“Look bored and leave early? That doesn’t sound very entertaining.”
Jenny stopped walking in mid-step, abruptly pulling away from her friend. “You are exasperating.”
“So says my brother. You’ve been spending entirely too much time with him. All his opinions are rubbing off on you.”
“Which of my opinions do you speak of?” Jack said. He was standing in the doorway, looking smug. “Of course, as my wife, Jenny must agree with me in all matters and spout my opinions whenever the opportunity presents itself, so I’m gratified to hear she’s already doing so.”
Both women glared at him, even though they knew he was teasing.
“Jack!” Pippa ran to her brother, leaving Jackstraws scattered hither and yon. “May we go out to the park? I am exceedingly bored.”
“What say you, ladies? Shall we indulge the little imp?”
“You go,” Cass said. “I’ve an idea for a project I want to undertake.”
“Oh, no,” Jack said. “You must join us, or we’ll not go at all.”
“Please, Cassie,” said Pippa. “Why are you so mopey lately, anyway?”
Her spirits had indeed been low. At times a desperate loneliness seized her, with her future so unsettled and nothing to look forward to with any excitement. With any hope. But for Pippa’s sake, she must hold herself together.
“I’m sorry, dearest. Of course I’ll come, and we may depart just as soon as you’ve put the Jackstraws away.”
Pippa performed the task quickly, and they all went off to gather their wraps. Jack grabbed Cass’s arm before she got far. “I’ve had a letter from the solicitor, Cass. Mr. Fairbrook, the oldest partner, has returned from a trip and will see me tomorrow.”
“Ah.” A rush of hope spread warmth through her chest.
“I’m confident he’ll recall the particulars. In any event, he will examine the marriage settlements with me, and that should tell us something.”
“Should I come?”
Jack’s lips twitched. “No, absolutely not. You know how these old fellows are. Women belong at home, and all that. This is better dealt with by me.”
Cass nodded. She didn’t like it, but knew he was right.
They rode to the park in the town carriage. The coachman let them out near the entrance, and Cass grabbed Pippa’s hand before she could dart away. It was early yet, but still there were many walkers, riders, and conveyances circling about. Easy for a little girl to become lost, or be easily overlooked by a coachman or rider.
The usual jockeying for position was underway, something Cass found amusing. Dowagers peeked out their windows to engage in conversation. Young bucks rode spirited mounts and cast their eyes about for young ladies. In turn, the young ladies, their maids hovering discreetly behind, tried to catch the eye of one of the gentlemen.
By unspoken agreement, Cass and her family stayed off Rotten Row, choosing instead to stroll around the park’s perimeter. Cass half hoped she would see Adam, even though any contact with him could only deepen her sadness.
“Let go of me, Cassie,” Pippa begged.
“Only if you promise not to run ahead of us. And you must be very careful to watch out for riders and—”
“Can we go to the Serpentine?”
Her brother and Jenny had stopped to wait for them, and Jack said, “Why not?”
…
After spending much of the day brooding, Adam asked for his mare to be saddled. He and his horse needed a good gallop, and it was just early enough that Rotten Row, with any luck, would not yet be clogged with other riders. He set off from Cavendish Square to Oxford Street. Without conscious thought, he normally tuned out the jarring noises of the city, but today the clattering of iron wheels, calls of street peddlers, and raised voices of pedestrians jangled his already frayed nerves.
Earlier, Adam had made repeated attempts to write to Sir William Broxton, but he found himself unable to complete a missive to the man. He was torn between requesting a meeting to discuss his election or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, telling the man he’d decided he didn’t want to stand for Commons after all. Losing Cass had changed everything. What good was his dream of becoming an MP without her?
He entered the park at Cumberland Gate and proceeded south, soon regretting his choice. Lady Leonora came alongside him before he’d ridden ten yards. If only he’d continued down Park Lane to Hyde Park Corner, he might have missed her.
“My lady,” he said, inclining his head. She was wearing a ridiculous looking riding habit with caped shoulders, like a man’s greatcoat, and military braiding. It was the only time he could recall thinking her fashion sense had failed her.
“Hello, Adam. Riding alone today? Where is your charming fiancée?”
He knew she was goading him, and he was not about to fall prey to her tricks. “At home, I assume. We do not keep track of each other’s movements.”
“I see.” When he did not speak, she plunged on. “What a shame about the wagers. It seems Cassandra’s unfortunate past will forever provide fodder for such mischief. Not to mention for the gossips.” Her face wore a snide look that Adam, were he not a gentleman, would have happily slapped away.
“You’re an expert in that area, are you not? Isn’t gossip your stock-in-trade, Leonora?” Adam halted his horse and dismounted, hoping she would ride on. But, worse luck, she did the same. The woman was impervious to insults.
“Really, Adam, I’ve never repeated anything that wasn’t already being bruited about by everybody else. If a woman chooses to make herself an object of ridicule, she has only herself to blame.”
Enough. He would not tolerate any more from her. Abruptly, he stopped walking to turn and face her, standing closer to her than was strictly polite. “Except, of course, Cass did not make that choice. Since you are not privy to her personal affairs, I’ll say only that she is entirely blameless in the matter of her fiancé’s death. Former fiancé. If you are so innocent in the spreading of on-dits, perhaps you should defend her when you hear gossip about her. Now, please take your hack and get out of my sight.”
She flinched, as though he had slapped her. “How dare you speak to me that way?” She drew herself up and puffed out her bosom. “I am a countess.”
Adam resisted the urge to laugh.
Ignorin
g her, he took a step back, and when he spun around to make his way toward Rotten Row, somehow the entire Linford family stood before him. Jack and Jenny and Philippa. And Cass, standing a little apart from the others, her face completely drained of color.
Bloody hell. Could this day get any worse?
…
Kneeling on the floor of the library, surrounded by books, Cass was making every effort to block out the memory of Adam in the park yesterday, deep in conversation with Lady Leonora. Standing so close to her, they might as well have been embracing. All the way home, Jack had tried to persuade Cass they were arguing. She hadn’t stayed around long enough to judge, but grabbed Pippa’s hand and fled. She had no doubt it was exactly what she thought, and if she tried to convince herself otherwise, more fool her. Her anguish weighed heavily on her, leaving her breathless.
Impulsively, Cass had decided to rearrange the library shelves, to place the books in alphabetical order by author, to be precise. It was a much bigger chore than she’d anticipated. But the Lord only knew, she needed a huge task to fill up the space in her head she instinctively reserved for Adam. And she was trying not to think about the fact that Jack was, even now, at his appointment with the solicitor.
A knock on the door, and she swiveled around to see who was there. “Beg pardon, Miss Linford. Flowers for you.”
“For me? You’d better bring them to me, Meg. I’m not sure I can stand up among this mess I’ve made.” The girl handed her a bouquet of roses, their hue a deep, luxurious red. A note fell out and landed on top of a book. Cass snatched it up, thanking the departing servant. Laying the roses down, she sat back on her heels and tore open the note. It was short, and after she’d read it, her resolve to put Adam out of her thoughts shattered into a million pieces. Or it may well have been her heart that shattered.
“Cass, Believe in me, my love. Believe in us. Yours, A.”
She lowered her face to her hands. Stop tormenting me, Adam. Just stop it. Why was he making her love him more, when she’d already said she couldn’t marry him? She simply must harden her heart against him. Carefully, she refolded the note and then heaved it across the room. It landed atop the stack of ‘S’ authors before sliding to the floor.
The door pushed open. Jack said, “What on earth?”
…
After brother and sister had decamped to the drawing room and Cass rang for tea, Jack waved her to the sofa. “That’s quite a project you’ve taken on,” he said, chuckling.
“Yes, well, I needed something to do. Most of the time, Pippa is at her lessons with Miss Stanton, Jenny is either with you or occupied with her trousseau…” Her words petered out. A footman brought in the tea, Meg following on his heels with the roses. Cass thought she would scream if Jack made her wait much longer to hear what the old solicitor had said.
While she poured, he finally spoke. “Shall I tell you what I learned today?”
Her head bobbed up. “I might kill you if you don’t. Is it good news?” She didn’t know if she could handle more bad.
“It is…illuminating, let’s say.”
Cass stared at Adam’s roses and willed herself to be strong. Whatever Jack had learned, it may not make a difference, in any case. She steeled herself. “Go ahead.”
“At the time the settlements were negotiated, Mr. Fairbrook hired an investigator to look into Bentley’s affairs. Seems he had vowels out all over town. Fairbrook says he’d been reputed to play deep, and his friends confirmed it.”
“Did Papa know?”
“According to Fairbrook, Papa acknowledged he’d heard the rumors, but hadn’t given them much credence.” Jack looked sheepish. “I’d heard them too, Cass, and I hadn’t put much store in them, either. I hadn’t pegged him as one of those aristocrats who squandered his own fortune and needed to marry for money.”
“Looking back, I probably should have realized—”
Jack shook his head. “You were young and naive. Do not blame yourself.”
“Tell me the rest.”
“Fairbrook urged Papa to take the situation seriously. Said he’d seen too many dowries drained away by lords who gambled, speculated, or kept multiple mistresses.”
How many mistresses did Bentley have? Perhaps more than one. Cass cringed at the thought.
“On Mr. Fairbrook’s counsel, they requested a final meeting with Bentley, during which Papa informed him he wished to make some changes in the agreement.” Jack drew a piece of paper from his pocket. “Fairbrook’s clerk copied this for me. I was afraid I wouldn’t remember it correctly. The settlement was amended so that a much greater sum was set aside for you and your children, Cass.”
“What was Bentley’s reaction?”
Jack shrugged. “He made no objection. How could he, without seeming crass?” After glancing down at his paper, he continued. “They also added a stipulation that Bentley could not pay, out of your dowry, any sum greater than five thousand pounds at one time, and only once per year, for the first five years of your marriage.”
Cass moved to the edge of her chair. “But how would we have known it was money from my dowry rather than his own money?”
“Bentley was at a stand, Cass. He was barely getting by on the allowance he received from his father. Your money would have been required for personal and household needs, for children, maybe a trip or two a year. Any large expenditures by your husband would have been immediately obvious to anybody who was paying attention, and Papa, with Fairbrook’s help, intended to do exactly that.”
“I can’t imagine that sat well with Bentley, if matters were as bad as you say.”
“Mr. Fairbrook said he went into a rage. Even threatened to call off the engagement. In the end, however, some of your money served him better than none.”
Cass released the breath she’d been holding and fell back against the sofa cushions. “Mystery solved, then. He blamed me for his financial woes. He wouldn’t be able to settle his considerable debt using my money.”
“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m sure Papa had no idea Bentley would take his life, let alone blame you for it.”
“No.” She’d thought she would feel elation. Vindication. Instead, it was as though a huge empty space had opened up in her chest.
Jack, perhaps sensing her odd reaction, rose and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “You can marry Adam now, Cass. No more obstacles.”
Again she said, “No.”
His eyes searched her face. “What? Whyever not?”
Cass withdrew her hands and mustered herself. Jack needed a reason why she would still refuse Adam, and it was down to her to make it clear. “I would be an embarrassment to him, Jack. My reputation as the woman who caused my betrothed’s death will always be there, just waiting to be stirred up by gossips and rumormongers. It’s a relief to have this explanation—possible explanation—of Bentley’s motives, but it doesn’t change my standing in society.”
“But that’s based on a lie!”
“Possibly. But we’re only going on assumptions. And besides, we can’t very well announce the truth, or what we believe to be the truth, to the ton.”
Her brother threw his hands up. “You’re making a mistake if you don’t accept Adam, Cass. He loves you.”
“But does he love me enough? In the end I might cost him his career. I can’t let that happen. I will not allow that to happen.”
Cass leaned her head against the cushions, and after a moment, the door closed quietly. She did not move until it was time to dress for dinner.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
One week. One entire week had passed since Cass had refused Adam’s marriage proposal. His inability to change anything, and his corresponding level of frustration, were making him crazy, so when he spotted Brandon sauntering through the main room of White’s, he saw red. Literally. Streams of crimson rippled in his vision. How dare the man stroll about as though he bore no responsibility for rekindling the rumor and innuendo about Cassie?
Brandon
stopped here and there to greet his cronies, as though he were the goddam Prime Minister. It turned Adam’s stomach. He wanted to pommel the bastard until he couldn’t get up. When he was within range, Adam stood and blocked his way.
“Hullo, Grey.” Brandon looked Adam up and down contemptuously. “What can I do for you?”
“You will remove the wager relating to my fiancée and myself from the books. Now.”
“It’s just a bit of fun, man. Where’s your sense of humor?” He laughed, brayed like a donkey, although Adam could tell he was uneasy.
Adam’s hand shot out and fisted the front of Brandon’s fine lawn shirt, pulling him close. “I don’t find it in the least amusing.”
Not content with the degree of ire he’d already raised, Brandon plunged in further. “You’re insane if you marry that chit. Everybody knows it will ruin your prospects.”
Adam hauled off and punched him.
Conversations soon ceased, and the members began to gather round. By the time management intervened, telling them to take it outside, Adam had thrown several more punches and deflected a few from his opponent. Now breathing heavily, both men were carried along in the tide of their crazed friends who were hungry for blood, and ended up on St. James Street, beneath the bow window.
They circled each other, fists raised. Brandon lunged, landing a glancing blow to Adam’s jaw. Hell and damnation, that hurts. Adam sucked in a breath and threw a solid punch to Brandon’s chest, knocking the other man backward. He stumbled and fell on his arse. Adam knew it was time to call a halt, but his temper was still raging. He threw himself atop the other man and pounded his ribs and chest, face and head. Blood poured from Brandon’s nose.
That was when somebody clasped Adam from behind and separated him from his prey. Two somebodies, as it turned out. “Are you crazy, man? Do you want to kill him?” The voice belonged to Jack, and Atherton was with him.
“As a matter of fact,” Adam said between gasps, “I do.”
The crowd quickly dispersed. Brandon went off with his friends to God knew where, and Adam made no further protest when his rescuers escorted him to down the street to the York Coffeehouse.
