Devil's Embrace

by Catherine Coulter

  Cassie said finally, “You wish me to give him up then. Go home to England.” She paused a moment. “You have known Edward for only months, Miss Lacy. I have known Edward all my life. We grew up together. The day before we were to be wed, I was kidnaped. Have you any idea what that was like, Miss Lacy?”

  Jenny stared at her numbly.

  “Kidnaped by a man I had known since I was a child, a man who wanted me because—” She could not repeat the story about her mother she had told Edward. She knew the earl loved her for herself. At least he had, before she had escaped him.

  “What happened?”

  “So very much.” The words were wrenched out of her, leaving her naked to herself. Cassie was trembling. She said brokenly, her hands covering her face, “Oh God, what is to be done? I was such a coward, such a blind fool. Are there never choices? Must we always follow stupid, meaningless dictums without regard to our feelings?”

  “I wish that you were a bitch,” Jenny said. “It is I who am the bitch, selfish and thoughtless. It is just that I want Edward so very much.”

  “You are very different from Edward.”

  “Perhaps. Edward is gentle and very kind. But there is a streak of iron strength in him. I will never love another man as I love him.”

  And I will never love another man as I love the earl.

  Cassie rose slowly. “Edward will be back shortly, Miss Lacy. You must give me time to think.”

  “It is all that I ask.”

  “Good-bye, Miss Lacy.” Cassie took a white shapely hand into hers.

  “Oh, incidentally,” Cassie said, halting Jenny in the open doorway, “do you particularly like to sail?”

  Jenny looked taken aback. “Sail? No, not particularly. If you would know the truth, I have always preferred being the passenger, and not the one doing the work.”

  “That is good,” Cassie said, a smile lighting her eyes.

  Cassie wondered, as she wandered back into the sitting room, what Eliott would say when his sister arrived on his doorstep, unwed and her belly large with child.

  Chapter 26

  Although the yellow dimity curtains were drawn tight across the windows, the bedchamber was still uncomfortably cool as the early afternoon sun tried to break through the overcast.

  Cassie lay on her side, her knees drawn up to her belly, clad only in her light muslin shift. The small luncheon she had managed to eat had not settled well, and now she felt drained and weak in the aftermath of having been ill. She moved her hand over her still flat belly, wondering if her violent retching could in any way harm the small babe in her womb. She remembered the many mornings the previous fall when she had returned to bed, pale and trembling, and the earl had gathered her in his arms and stroked her gently until her stomach had righted itself. Although she did not wish it, tears welled up in Cassie’s eyes and a soft, broken sob broke from her throat. She had never felt so alone and uncertain in her life. And she was still so far from her home. Over and over again, she thought about what she felt, about what she wondered if she had known even before Jennifer Lacy’s unexpected visit. She would not marry Edward, no matter her unborn child.

  She thought of the man she loved, now a world away from her. It had been she who had allowed unreasoning anger and willful pride to destroy the bond that had grown between them. Even last fall when she had agreed to wed him, there would have been love between them. She knew, with helpless fury at herself, that she would have come to return the love he felt for her. If only he had allowed her freedom, allowed her to make her own choices. If only he had told her about Becky Petersham.

  Cassie was locked so deeply into herself that she did not hear the outward door open and close. She felt a light hand upon her shoulder.

  “Cass.”

  She tried to sniff back her tears. She turned over on her back and gazed up at Edward. She remembered vividly how she had loved his face, had memorized its every plane and contour. A wan smile touched her lips, and she sniffed yet again.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, ’twas just a bout of nausea. Mrs. Beatty’s luncheon was not to the child’s liking.” She saw his hazel eyes flit quickly to her belly, and he made his face impassive. She wished she had remained silent.

  “You are looking dashing, sir,” she said, hoping to set his thoughts in another direction. “Did you see General Howe?”

  “Aye, I saw him, and also General Clinton—with John Andre’s help.”

  “Ah yes, Major Andre. A man, I think, who dearly loves the ladies.”

  “Indeed,” Edward said stiffly. “Would you like your dressing gown, Cassie?”

  How often had she shocked or displeased him, she wondered. “Yes, thank you, Edward.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose slowly, for she had begun to feel dizzy of late if she suddenly jumped up. She met Edward’s eyes and felt herself flush with embarrassment. Her swollen breasts strained against the soft muslin shift, and the material had slipped up, revealing her legs. She lowered her eyes as he handed her the dressing gown.

  Edward’s eyes fell on her hair, tumbled sensually, full and loose, over her slender shoulders and down her back. He turned away from her, cursing the burgeoning ache in his loins. She had been violently ill and even now looked pale and listless.

  “Would you care for tea, Cass?”

  “I do not like tea, Edward. I have never liked tea.”

  There was bitterness in her voice, and he turned back to her in surprise.

  Cassie felt instantly contrite and splayed her hands apologetically in front of her. “Forgive me for my wretched tongue. I would not have you think me a raging termagant.” She rose slowly, shaking her dressing gown over her ankles.

  He smiled at her gently. “You are not a termagant, Cass. It was stupid of me to have forgotten.”

  Edward followed her awkwardly to the sitting room and watched her seat herself carefully upon the settee. He unfastened his sword. “General Howe was not particularly obliging, Cass. Indeed, I fear there is little chance of his releasing me before summer.”

  Cassie drew in her breath, thinking of the ship sailing for England the following week. She watched him nervously as he set his sword precisely upon the table.

  “I see,” she said.

  “And also,” Edward continued, sitting himself opposite her, “General Clinton ordered me, and you, of course, to a ball Friday evening. He is a boorish, stubborn man, but listens to John Andre. Thus the ball. He hopes, I suppose, to impress the Tories with his generosity and graciousness. It will serve him well, for a little time, at least. I hope you will not mind attending.”

  “As Lady Delford?”

  “You forget that by Friday you will be Lady Delford.”

  God help me, she thought, and said quietly, “I have given the matter much thought, Edward.”

  “What matter? I just told you of the blasted ball.”

  “The matter of my future and yours. No, please do not interrupt me, for I must say this. I made a terrible mistake in believing that your sentiments, as well as mine, could remain unchanged for so many months. Both of us are not what we were, Edward. And I see now that even if we had not been parted, we are not really suited to each other.”

  “What nonsense is this, Cassie?”

  She winced at the cold impatience in his voice. She knew it as the tone of an English gentleman when honor and duty were at stake.

  “I am giving us back choices, Edward. I have decided that I cannot wed you. I will leave next week for England. I am going home.”

  He sat forward, and clasped his lean hands tightly together between his thighs. “I am willing to grant you lapses of reason, Cassie, because of your condition. But if you seriously believe I would ever allow you to journey alone back to Hemphill Hall, unprotected and carrying a bastard child, you sorely mistake my character. If I were to allow such a thing, I would expect Eliott to put a bullet through my gullet.”

  She smiled at him sadly. “You cannot always lead yo
ur life bound to such unrestrained honor, Edward.”

  “Do you forget that if that black-hearted devil had not abducted you we would have wed?”

  “But then, Edward, you fancied that you loved me. And the earl, in his own right, believed it too.”

  “How can you defend that bastard? By God, Cassie, I begin to think your wits are gone awry. Is it not enough that you carry the man’s child?”

  They were arguing senselessly, hurtfully. Cassie wished she could somehow weave her thoughts so that Edward would understand. “We are tearing at each other, Edward, and to no purpose. If I pose you one question, will you reply honestly?”

  He hesitated, and his hazel eyes narrowed in frustration. “If you insist upon this ridiculous game, Cassie, very well.”

  “How do you feel about being a father to another man’s child?”

  “Since I have no choice in the matter, I will learn to accept it. It is your child, as well as his.”

  She said very quietly, “You would probably begin to hate me for it and the child.”

  “So now you will accuse me of cruelty.” He rose abruptly and paced away from her. He turned suddenly, his face hard. “I would that you keep your woman’s vacillating emotions to yourself. We will do what is right, and that’s an end to it.”

  “That is probably one good reason why we would never suit, Edward. I refuse to be dictated to. I assure you that you would pull your hair out—or mine—at my stubbornness. As to my woman’s emotions, I would ask that you examine your own feelings—without that cold rock of duty weighing down your heart.” She knew by the sudden dazed look in his eyes that he was at last thinking of Jenny.

  “You were granted the opportunity to see me as I really am, Edward. The idealized girl you lost need exist no more. Perhaps some day soon you will thank me, Edward, for I have rid you of a ghost.” And myself as well.

  He paced again in front of her, the muscles of his lean jaw clenching and unclenching. Finally he turned to her, his face rigidly set.

  “I think, Cassandra—”

  Don’t call me that, only he used my full name.

  “—that you have closed your heart to men after the vile treatment you received at the earl’s hands. The nights we have spent together have been a trial for you. I am not stupid or insensitive to your feelings, you know. I will give you all the time you need. I will make no physical demands on you, unless you wish it.”

  She stared at him, knowing the effort it had cost him to once again push Jenny from his mind. He would give up anything, even his life, for his sacred honor.

  At her continued silence, he said sharply, “Dammit, Cassie, you need not fear me. I am no ravisher of women. If you will but recall, it was you who invited me to your bed.”

  “I do not fear you, Edward, and you are quite correct, of course. I wanted you to make love to me because I believed you wanted me, that you still loved me. It was a way, a stupid way, I know, to try to bind us together again.”

  “What do you mean you believed that I still loved you?”

  There, it was said. She drew a resolute breath. “You were ever a bad liar, Edward. I know that you are not in love with me, and you will not deny it if you still feel anything for me at all.”

  His face paled.

  “It is this wretched country,” he said at last, his voice low and taut. “Once we are in England again, everything will right itself. I have known you all your life, Cassie, and have always held you dear. Can you imagine that would ever change?”

  “No, I believe that you would always be kind toward me. But you are being a statesman, Edward, and are trying to avoid confronting a truth that makes you feel the dishonorable man.”

  “This passes all bounds, Cass. For God’s sake, do you count respect, likeness in taste and background, as naught? What if there is no longer a grand passion between us? I assure you that neither of us will die of misery.” He ran his fingers through his carefully powdered hair and grunted in disgust at the white flecks on his hand. He felt stabbing anger at her, even though the words grand passion had stuck in his throat as he uttered them. Damn her. She had returned from the grave to reclaim him and now, when he insisted upon doing precisely as he had assumed she wished, she was ranting ridiculous nonsense to him about his not loving her. Jenny’s image, her velvety green eyes dazed with passion, took hold of his mind. “Damn all women to the devil.”

  He reached for his sword and buckled it on. “I am going out, Cassie. Perhaps by the time I have returned, you will have come to your senses.”

  “Edward, I have come to my senses.” She rose to face him. “I am sailing next week for England. I know you cannot accept my reasons, but my mind is made up. I hope you can forgive me, Edward.”

  He seemed suspended for a moment by the finality in her voice. He turned on his heel without answering her, and walked from the room.

  “You’ll be the most beautiful lady at the general’s ball,” Mrs. Beatty said, her thin voice enthusiastic as she gently tugged two thick curls over Cassie’s bare shoulder. “’Tis wise that you do not cover your hair with that nasty powder. It’s all the rage, I know, but such a mess it makes. At least it’s not raining anymore. March is a saucy month. Not like July. Now that’s the time to shut all the shutters to stay cool.”

  Cassie smiled absently at Mrs. Beatty’s speech, content to let her cluck on as she worked, as was her habit.

  Mrs. Beatty helped Cassie step into a pale blue silk gown, the only one she had brought from Genoa at all suitable for a formal gathering. “Och, it’s tight across your bosom, m’lady and that part of you can’t be sucked in.”

  Cassie stared at herself in the long, narrow mirror. Her breasts blossomed above the tiny row of white lace that gathered above the plunging bodice. She tried to tug it upward, but the stiff stomacher held the gown rigidly in place. She sighed. At least her waistline did not yet tell a tale.

  Mrs. Beatty chuckled knowingly. “Captain Lord Delford will have to slap the gentlemen’s hands, m’lady. They’ll be like bees to the honey pot.” As Cassy gazed up, appalled by this thought, Mrs. Beatty hastened to add, “Just a manner of speaking, m’lady. Do not fret yourself.” She stopped her monologue to a halt and drew her sandy brows together. “The captain told Mr. Beatty that you would be leaving for England next week. It’s sad that you must be parted so soon.”

  Cassie was careful that her eyes did not meet Mrs. Beatty’s. “It is likely that the captain will return to England in the summer. General Howe has requested that he stay on in New York for the present.” Actually, Cassie wasn’t at all certain what plans Edward had made, if, indeed, he had yet made any. Since their conversation three days ago, Edward had tried to remonstrate with her, but Cassie had remained steadfast. It seemed to her that, finally, Edward was occasionally allowing himself to be relieved. When she had teasingly pointed out how lucky he was to have such a narrow escape from a shrewish woman, his tight reserve loosened, and for a brief moment, he smiled crookedly. But he was worried for her, thinking, she knew, about what her life would be like when she returned to England and to Hemphill Hall. Because he was troubled, she forced laughter into her voice when she was with him. He spent all his time with her, save at night. Whilst they were eating luncheon at a barge restaurant docked off Brooklyn Heights, she unwisely broached the subject of how Edward was going to court Jenny when much of New York believed him to be married.

  “I believe, Cass,” he said coolly, “that that will be my problem. I will muddle through it, as I always do.” She sensed that he had given it thought. She was quite confident that Jenny, if not Edward, would contrive something suitable.

  Cassie turned at the sound of Major John Andre’s laughing voice in the sitting room. Even when he was enjoying a good joke, his voice sounded husky, as if in case a lady were within hearing. Mrs. Beatty draped a white shawl over Cassie’s shoulders and shuffled to the bedchamber door to open it.

  “Now you enjoy yourself, m’lady. I was telling Mr. Beatty just
the other day that you were looking a trifle peaked, but you certainly don’t tonight.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Beatty, for your assistance.” She smiled toward the sitting room. “With two such amusing gentlemen, I am certain to enjoy myself.”

  Major Andre whistled softly under his breath. “Good God, Edward, it’s a close eye you’ll have to keep upon your lady this evening. You are a vision to a starved man, Lady Delford.”

  “She is passable, I suppose,” Edward said as he took her hand.

  “Thank you, Major Andre, Edward. I hope I have not keep you gentlemen waiting overlong.”

  “Not at all, Lady Delford.” Major Andre glanced curiously toward Edward. If Cassie were his wife, he thought, he would not let her out of his sight or his bed, much less let her leave for England alone. His gaze lingered on her thick golden hair, and his fingers fairly itched to touch it.

  Cassie supposed that Major Andre was accompanying them because there was no available carriage to carry them from the King George Inn to Kennedy House. At night, a lady escorted even by one gentleman was not sufficiently safe in many parts of the city.

  This March night was cool, and the sky was clear. There was a light breeze from the river, and Cassie was reminded briefly of Genoa. But there were no fragrant flowers, no silvery moon casting its soft glow over the Mediterranean. She closed her eyes an instant, chiding herself, and turned her attention to the gentlemen.

  The walk to Kennedy House was pleasant, for Major Andre was an amusing conversationalist. Cassie found herself laughing more than once at his droll comments, many of the more sarcastic ones about General Clinton.

  “The general likes to fancy that he is riding in the Quorn,” he said, his voice full of irony. “This morning, he insisted upon tearing down the middle of Broadway, pretending he was in the midst of the hunt. Had I the time, I would have trapped a wretched fox and placed him in the general’s path. That would have shaken the old fool, I imagine. The New Yorkers were rather taken aback by his antics, I assure you.”

  Cassie laughed. “I look forward to meeting your commander, Major Andre.”