by Emma Wildes
He had to fight to conquer the sudden impulse to jump to his feet and bash his fist into his best friend’s jaw. Timothy took a deep steadying breath, the reddish haze of anger making it difficult to think. “If I kill you, my sister won’t have a bridegroom,” he rasped out furiously, “so I suppose I’m just going to have control that very strong urge, but it’s still tempting as hell to beat you to a bloody pulp.”
His shoulders stiffened, but Ross looked back at him squarely. “You could try anyway. If you remember, I can defend myself fairly adeptly after traveling to some pretty dangerous places. Tim, look…you’re furious, which I expected, hell, I’m furious with myself. But think of it this way, I am offering your sister wealth, title, and a secure life. You told me yourself she was resistant to the idea of a season in London on the marriage mart, this way she doesn’t have to go through all of that.”
“That’s a pretty convenient way of salving your conscience.”
“It’s convenient for her, but I don’t know about me,” Ross snapped back, his civility cracking. “I wasn’t alone in that bed and she admits she was willing. I’m trying to take responsibility for what happened, but it wasn’t entirely my mistake. You know damned well I wasn’t interested in marrying for a while.”
It was a good point, but Timothy was just too damn mad to agree to it.
Of course, there wasn’t much doubt that Cassandra had always had a romantic, girlish infatuation with Viscount Winterton. Whether or not Ross had ever noticed it, Timothy certainly had because he knew her so well. The only reason he had never been concerned was because he trusted his old friend implicitly. For that matter, he’d trusted her also, to behave like a proper young lady.
Together, apparently, they couldn’t be trusted at all.
Women, he had to acknowledge to himself in rueful honesty, had a way of getting what they wanted. This could be every much his sister’s fault as it was Ross’ and he had to take that into consideration.
He leaned back. “I think I need another drink.”
* * * *
Cassandra glanced up at the knock on her door and set aside her book with resignation. “Come in.”
“Your brother would like to see you downstairs in his study,” Aunt Gloria announced as she came into the bedroom, her eyes narrowed in unmistakable question. Her plump face was slightly pink from the exertion of climbing the stairs, and her bosom heaved. Brown hair threaded liberally with gray was bound back into a chignon, and her face barely showed a wrinkle, though she had to be well over sixty. She was extremely kind, but also a stickler for propriety. Cassandra had a sinking feeling that if what happened between her and Ross came to the surface, her aunt was not going to be at all pleased with her behavior and there was a decided lecture in her future.
“Do you mind telling me why exactly he wants to see you?” Gloria asked briskly, never one to mince words. “Not only have he and Winterton been ensconced together for well over an hour, the housekeeper claims their voices have been raised more than once.”
As she rose from the window seat, Cassandra couldn’t help but mutter, “I am surprised she couldn’t hear every word. Undoubtedly her ear was pressed against the door.” She was fond of Mrs. Ogden, but the woman was very much a busybody.
“She heard enough to ascertain their argument is over you.” Gloria sat down on the bed and folded her hands.
“Ross kissed me when we were in the garden. Timothy happened to arrive when it happened.” It was the truth, but a decided understatement.
“Kissed you? Oh, dear.” Suddenly looking nonplussed, her aunt pursed her mouth. “The confirmed bachelor Lord Winterton? That’s interesting. Though I am not certain how I feel about it.”
“Me either.” Cassandra smoothed her gown with fingers that weren’t quite steady.
“He’s titled and wealthy.” Aunt Gloria mused out loud, speculation replacing doubt. “But Ross is also entirely too handsome and charming for his own good. I am fond of him, but if I didn’t know him personally so well and based approval of any hint of courtship solely on his reputation, I don’t know how I could allow it.”
“I don’t think you can call what happened between us courtship,” Cassandra said with a hint of dry resignation in her voice. In the past hour she had time to think a little bit about this inexplicable turn her life had suddenly taken, and resigned herself to the fact that if Ross was determined to tell Timothy the truth, they probably would have to get married. Certainly Ross seemed to think it was their only choice.
It would nice if he were more enthusiastic about the entire…debacle.
That word still rankled.
“I guess I’d better go down and see what Timothy wants.” She squared her shoulders.
No one’s fool, her aunt seemed to sense there was an undercurrent she was missing. “Though it was hardly an appropriate thing for Ross to do, I can’t imagine why they would be quarreling over a simple kiss, and I have to admit you do not seem at all yourself.”
There hadn’t been anything simple about the way Ross kissed her, and that was the only encouraging thing about this situation. At least he found her physically attractive, Cassandra thought gloomily, but that was little enough consolation if he resented her otherwise for an unwanted wedding and the sudden curtailing of his previous freedom.
“I have no idea what they are saying to each other,” Cassandra said. “But I suppose I am about to find out. Please excuse me, Aunt.”
Leaving a puzzled Gloria in her bedroom, she went down the stairs to the main hall, her brother’s study being in the opposite wing of the house.
The uneasiness in the pit of her stomach was hard to ignore but Cassandra rapped on the door and was bid to enter. When she stepped inside, she saw that her brother sat behind his desk, looking a little grim. Ross was nowhere in sight, which was a bit of a surprise.
Timothy stood politely at her entrance, his expression shuttered. “Please close the door behind you, Cassie. I’m sure you’d prefer this conversation to be as private as possible.”
Her heart tightened a little at the cool tone of his voice, for if there was anyone’s opinion of her in this world she valued, it was that of her older brother. Quietly, she shut the door. Cassandra took a deep breath and said as evenly as possible, “Privacy seems to be an abstract term, Tim, if you and Ross have been discussing me without my presence.”
“Did I have much of a choice but to discuss you with him?” He asked the question with a sharp edge to the words. “Believe me, I didn’t much enjoy the conversation. Please sit down.”
The order made her feel like a chastened child. Cassandra contemplated refusing and leaving, but she and Tim had always been close and she respected his concern. She sank down into a chair across from his desk and folded her hands in her lap. “Where is Ross?”
“He left a few minutes ago.”
The muscles in her stomach clenched tighter. “Oh, I see.”
“Obtaining a special marriage license takes pulling a few strings. I expect he will be back tomorrow. The wedding will be next weekend, at the chapel at his estate in Berkshire. His mother is unwell and doesn’t travel any longer, so he requested that it be held there.”
The very detached sound of her brother’s voice made Cassandra feel slightly ill. “It would be nice if you asked me if I agreed to marry him in the first place,” she said with asperity, “for I haven’t.”
Tim’s normally easy-going expression was forbidding. “I’m afraid you agreed last night in his bed.”
She flushed. She couldn’t help it. “I wish he hadn’t told you what happened. It wasn’t necessary and I resent being subject to some ridiculous male code of honor without my consent.”
“Ridiculous?” Tim’s brows shot up, his good-looking face tight. “You should be grateful he just doesn’t want to walk away. Unless you weren’t willing, and I have his word you were, his obligation is based solely on that honor you dismiss so casually. Jesus, Cassie, what were you thinking?”
“I hope not.”
She registered her brother’s tone, knowing him as well as she did, and also the implied question. Cassandra felt incredulous over his doubt. “Surely you don’t assume I did it on purpose, counting on that “honor” you so cherish to make him marry me?”
For a moment he hesitated, and then a sudden weariness crossed his features. His wide shoulders slumped as he rubbed his jaw and looked at her. “I don’t know what to think of all this, but no, you haven’t a devious bone in your body. Luckily, Ross doesn’t seem to think so either. I’m just concerned for your future and your happiness. I know you have always been a little dazzled by Ross—most women are—but you do realize your differences are vast, don’t you? Imagining yourself in love with him is one thing, but the reality is possibly quite different.”
Chagrin over the fact her brother knew of her infatuation made her face heat. “You knew I felt that way?”
“That’s one of the differences I’m talking about, I’m afraid. You are not at all adept at hiding your feelings, Cassie. Ross, on the other hand, is a master at the games high society plays. His name is a byword for sophisticated detachment. He is a fine man in many ways, but he’s used to a certain level of self-indulgence that I’m afraid will make marriage a difficult adjustment for you both.”
A lump seemed to have formed in her throat. “I see.”
“Do you?” Her brother’s gaze was level. “I doubt it. I’ve indulged your preference to stay here at Ivydale, buried in the country. I’ve also not pressed you to attend social events, knowing how you detest crowds and the little use you have for banal, polite conversation. How little use you have, in fact, for any of the usual pursuits of young women from good families. I feel I have no choice but to be blunt—though I have no desire to hurt your feelings—but you are a bluestocking, Cassie. A woman who is more well-read than most men, who never flirts, who pays very little attention to the normal fripperies and baubles that other women covet, who disdains—”
“I know what the term means,” she interrupted, not certain whether to be insulted or not that her brother thought of her that way. To her, it wasn’t a bad thing to not be one of those shallow girls who constantly worried over the latest style of a new gown or a tidbit of tantalizing gossip, but she knew it was unfashionable. “I guess you are telling me Ross will be embarrassed by me, is that it?”
“Lord, no.” Tim shook his head with enough impatient vehemence that her tension loosened a fraction. “I’m not saying that in the least. You are strikingly beautiful, undeniably intelligent, and he’s going to be lucky as the devil to have you as his wife. What I am saying is that you are going to have to accept the fact he likes London and spends most of his time there. You are also going to have to do some things you find distasteful, like visit the dressmakers often to keep with the current trends, attend balls and parties on his arm, and perhaps even travel abroad.”
Cassandra realized that her brother was probably right, and fought to conquer her dismay. “London does not appeal to me,” she admitted, “but I have always had the impression marriage in general is a compromise. Surely he’ll want to spend some time in the country?”
Her brother shook his head. “I doubt it. He certainly never has before. Ross was born into a titled, privileged existence. He is not at all used to compromise, believe me. I think you’d better face the fact that he will feel his duty is done to you by giving you his name, fortune, and a place at his side in society. In turn, you will have to make considerable concessions, Cassie. He will be in control, I’m afraid, and you will be expected to do as he wishes.”
Since her brother knew her future husband better than anyone, that was undoubtedly completely true. Those reckless moments in his arms were going to exact a high price. She hoped she could pay it without being miserable.
Chapter 4
Ross adjusted his cravat, surprised to see how his fingers fumbled with the cloth.
He smiled ruefully at his reflection in the glass. Apparently he followed in the footsteps of legions of bridegrooms and was actually nervous. Tying yourself to one woman for the rest of your life was an intimidating notion, though he hadn’t ever thought of it before except in the most abstract of ways. A wife was a necessity, expected of any man of title and rank. He needed a legal heir, and the only way to obtain that was through a legitimate marriage, so he always knew one day he would have to take that critical step.
He had never once pondered the emotional aspects of the union.
In this past week, all of that had changed. It wasn’t that he’d changed his mind over his disinterest in matrimony at this time of his life; it was more that now that shadowy, abstract figure had a name and a face. He wasn’t simply getting married. He was marrying quiet, unworldly Cassandra Rollins.
He really had no idea how he felt about it.
“You look very fine, my lord, if I do say so myself.” Williams hovered, brushing his jacket and beaming. “Your bride will be impressed, I’m sure.”
“My bride,” Ross said dryly to his valet, “is not particularly impressed by the cut of a man’s coat, or the fit of his breeches, I’m afraid. I hope she even remembers to change for the wedding. Style doesn’t interest her.”
Williams looked mildly outraged, but kept his opinion over such a lack of enthusiasm for fashion to himself. “I’m sure she’ll be very lovely, sir.”
“That’s some consolation, for of that I have no doubt.” No matter what she wore, Cassandra was beautiful at all times, though he truthfully hadn’t seen her much since the day after that fateful night. It had taken longer than he anticipated to obtain the special license, and when he had returned to Ivydale, it had been a fleeting visit to solidify the details of the marriage agreement. Since neither he nor Tim wanted to argue over it, they had both let their solicitors handle most of the salient points.
“At least this wedding is a small affair and should be over quickly,” he mused out loud, picking up a diamond stickpin. His mother had wanted to invite half the countryside, but he had put his foot down, certain his young bride would be unhappy with a huge production. The haste of the wedding was also something to consider, as there had really been very little time to make elaborate plans. That was absolutely fine with him, for as far as Ross was concerned—and most males of his acquaintance—weddings were for brides, and wedding nights were for bridegrooms.
If he wasn’t enthusiastic about getting married, he was at least intrigued by the idea of bedding Cassandra Rollins again.
This time he would not be impaired and only remember a few tantalizing fragments. Tonight, he vowed in pure masculine anticipation, he would fully enjoy Cassandra’s considerable charms and recall every detail. If he had to sacrifice his bachelorhood, he certainly planned on spending a great deal of time in bed with his new wife, tutoring her in the varieties of ways men and women can please each other.
In short, the situation wasn’t perfect, but Ross did look forward to making love to her. He looked forward to it so much he had barely thought about anything else all week. It was actually a little disturbing and certainly surprised the hell out of him.
“I’m ready to go on down to the chapel,” he told his valet. He glanced at the clock on the mantle of the fireplace in his bedroom, the hands nearly pointing to five o’clock. “We’ll stay here tonight but leave for London tomorrow.” He grinned. “Not bright and early, I expect. We’ll probably sleep late.”
Williams nodded, young enough that he flushed slightly at the implication. “Yes, my lord.”
“Wish me luck.”
“I do, sir.”
Leaving the bedroom, he went downstairs. The chapel—built during a time when one of his ancestors had an objection to the newly created Church of England—was connected to the house by a small corridor and he found Timothy there, restlessly pacing. He was dressed much like Ross, in an elegant tailored jacket, fitted breeches, and boots polished to a high sheen
. His normally affable expression was grim. He said without preamble, “Bloody hell, Ross, I thought I was going to have to come up and get you.”
Ross lifted his brows. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. “I’m not late, relax. Is Cassandra ready?”
“She’s inside. I know she has jitters, but she acts composed.” Tim ran a hand through his blond hair, ruining his otherwise impeccable appearance. “I always miss my mother, of course, but if there was ever a time I wish she was still alive, this would be it. I don’t know what the hell to say to Cassie, what advice to give.”
“If you are talking about tonight, you might recall she doesn’t need it,” Ross pointed out dryly. “That’s why we are all here today.”
Tim gave him a quelling look. “Don’t remind me. I still have the occasional murderous urge when I think about it and you are nearby. Now would not be the time to indulge it.”
Unbidden, the memory of how soft and delicate Cassandra felt in his arms came to mind. Her fragrance, the smoothness of her flawless skin, the way she blushed so easily…he rarely thought innocence charming, but in her case, it was so genuine, it was refreshing. Ross said quietly, “I’ll take care of her, Tim. I am about to vow it before God and witnesses. I vow it first to you.”
His friend looked him in the eye. “I know you will. In the physical sense. You’ll provide for her in every single way. She’ll not want for any material thing…but I want her to be happy, Ross.”
It was the crux of the matter that hung between them like the proverbial sword. Ross said slowly, “This comes down your apparently unflattering opinion of my character, I take it. You don’t think I’ll be faithful, is that it?”
Tim didn’t deny it. “Do you think you will be?”
Did he? Ross wasn’t sure. Seduction had always been a game. He’d been playing it a long time. “I’ve never tried, so how can I answer that? Permanence is a new variable in my life. All this saintly posturing is a little irritating, by the way. Let’s face it, you have no practice in fidelity either.”
