Samantha James (10 page)

Gabriel girded himself against the pleading in her eyes. “There is not,” he said curtly. “My father has arrived.”

She faltered. Her fingers plucked at her dreadful gown. “But…this is what I wore at Black Jack’s.”

“So it is,” he observed coolly. “For now it will simply have to do, I’m afraid.”

Her lashes fell, but not before her eyes glazed over, suspiciously bright. Gabriel swore silently, damning them both. Perhaps it was cruel—perhaps it was cold. But he would not be swayed by her tears, for he was captive to his father’s plans…

And she was captive to his.

She did not move, nor did she speak. Gabriel said nothing, but took her arm, his grip tightening when he encountered her silent resistance. But he was not to be dissuaded, and she must have realized it was futile to cross him in this.

Together they descended the stairs, a horrible coil of dread tightening her muscles with every step, her senses filled with a horrible expectancy.

The double doors off the entrance hall were now open. Cassie caught a glimpse of gilt-papered walls and window hangings of crimson and gold. Two men stood before the hearth, both dressed in riding clothes. One was heavy-jowled and balding. The other stood proud and straight as a youth of twenty, though his silvered hair proclaimed him far older. He turned, giving her a glimpse of hawklike features and frosty eyes. Recognition flashed through her brain. This could only be Gabriel’s father…

The conversation ceased as they stepped into the drawing room. Gabriel halted just inside the doorway. He inclined his head slightly. “Father,” he greeted. “Your Grace.”

Gray eyes confronted gray. “Well, it’s high time you returned, Gabriel. I began to wonder if you’d not decided to remain in that wretched country permanently.”

A smile that Cassie was beginning to recognize as dangerous spread across his lips. “Why, Father, never fear. The notion never crossed my mind.”

Edmund Sinclair’s expression was rife with disapproval. “As usual,” he stated coldly, “your disrespect knows no bounds. So if you don’t mind, I suggest the three of us retire.” His gaze flickered to Cassie. “We’ve important matters to discuss—such as your wedding.”

That dangerous smile widened. “Actually, Father, my wedding is the very thing I wish to discuss as well…” He tugged Cassie forward. “My dear, allow me to present my father, Edmund Sinclair, duke of Farleigh, and Reginald Latham, duke of Warrenton. Gentlemen…this is Cassie, my beautiful American bride.”

The silence that ensued was shattering. The very air seethed with a tension that seemed alive and pulsing. For the first time, Cassie wondered if she might not have been better off staying with Black Jack…

“Your bride!” It was Warrenton who spoke first, the veins in his temple standing out. “If this is some twisted form of amusement, I assure you, I am hardly entertained!”

“And I avow, Your Grace, I do not speak in jest. Cassie is my bride. We were married in Charleston, and surely you can see why I was smitten. Indeed, who could turn a blind eye to beauty such as this?” He touched her cheek, the gesture but a parody of tenderness. Cassie stood frozen, her limbs like ice.

Warrenton went livid. “You were to marry my daughter. My God, I should call you out for this!”

Gabriel’s tone was deadly soft. “That is up to you, Your Grace. But I did ask that no formal announcement of the engagement be made until I’d returned from my voyage. I trust my wishes were followed?”

It was Edmund who answered at last. “We made no announcement.”

“Then I fail to see why you would be so foolhardy as to call me out, Your Grace. I have neither dishonored nor disgraced Lady Evelyn. She will suffer no public embarrassment, for none but Evelyn and those in this room knew that such a marriage was even discussed. Indeed, who would have expected me to marry in my brother’s place? You would be foolish to place your life in jeopardy, Your Grace. But that is up to you.” There was no mistaking the threat implicit in his voice.

“He is right, Reginald. Were you to call him out, you chance bringing scandal down upon both our families.” Edmund’s tone was flat. “I’ve no wish for animosity between us. If it would ease your mind, perhaps we can come to some sort of…monetary arrangement.”

Warrenton snatched his riding crop from the chair where he’d dropped it. Some of the red had left his face, but he was still very angry. “Of that you may be sure,” he snapped. “I shall be in touch.” He whirled and stalked from the room.

A seething tension took hold as he left. Cassie longed to run and hide, yet she stood rooted to the spot.

Edmund turned his head to stare at them, suddenly so angry he was almost shaking. “An American,” he said tightly. “How could you, knowing
how I despise their very presence on this earth…Even a bloody Frenchie would have been preferable to an
American
!” He made the word sound like something vile and rotten. “By God, I won’t stand for it. Do you hear, Gabriel? I’ll not stand for it!”

Gabriel’s features were diamond-hard. “We have been married before God and man, Father, for over six weeks now. Christopher Marley stood as our witness. Our marriage is indissoluble.” His arm slid around her. Lean fingers splayed across her narrow belly. “You see before you the cradle of our family, Father. Why, Cassie may well be carrying your grandchild this very moment.”

Cassie stood like a stone. He was enjoying this, she realized, stunned. What kind of man was he—to enjoy taunting his father so?

Edmund’s eyes were focused on the expanse of creamy flesh exposed by her neckline. His lip curled. “At what dockside did you find her?”

“Actually, it was an alehouse.” Gabriel’s tone was smooth as fine rum. “But I wonder that you do not commend me for my generosity and compassion in rescuing this poor girl from the gutter. I may well have saved her from an impoverished existence for the rest of her life.”

The duke’s gaze hardened still further. “Please leave us,” he said abruptly. “I wish to speak to my son alone.”

Cassie needed no further urging. She picked up her skirts and nearly ran from the room. She did not fly up the stairs just yet, though she longed to with all her heart. Some force much more power
ful held her bound there, just outside the door, listening.

Inside, Edmund rounded on Gabriel. “A tavern wench! My God, how many beds has she lain in before yours?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I neither know nor care.” He fell silent for a moment, watching the duke. “I find I am curious, Father. Which do you object to the most—that she is an American, or that she does not meet your standards of breeding?”

“Breeding?” The duke stiffened. “The girl has none!”

“It’s true that her bloodlines are not so impeccable as yours. Her mother was a whore, and her father…well, in short, he might have been any of a number of men.” Gabriel moved to stand before the mantel, hands behind his back. He no longer faced the duke, but he derived an immense satisfaction in picturing the duke’s angry despair.

“A word of warning, Father—you need not threaten to disown me. I am still your son, though you may have wished otherwise countless times. And I know you will not let your precious Farleigh Hall fall into the hands of strangers. Oh, yes, your strong sense of duty will prevail in the end.” He half-turned, slanting his father a mirthless smile. “After all, isn’t that why you married my mother—because Stuart needed a mother?”

“What does it matter if I disown you?” Edmund said bitterly. “I shall be dead and gone!”

Gabriel’s smile turned unpleasant. “Ah, but it matters very much indeed. I know you, you see, almost as well as I know myself.”

Edmund was white with anger. “What do you want, Gabriel? What will it take to be rid of her?”

Outside, Cassie had gone utterly still. She pressed a hand against her chest, aware of a crushing pain. He had warned her, she thought vaguely, that love played no part in their bargain. Yet she had never dreamed that their marriage was forged out of
hatred
…but Cassie was suddenly heartbreakingly certain that had been Gabriel’s only motivation…

For Gabriel must surely hate his father. Why else would he do what he had done?

His chilling laugh reached her ears. “Unlike Warrenton, money will not appease me, Father. You see, I want nothing from you—nothing at all. So do not think to entice her into leaving, to make her disappear.”

Edmund’s voice was thick with fury. “A change of gown will not make a lady of her. Think what the scandal will do to you!”

Cassie stumbled back; she could bear no more. She turned and ran up the stairs, fighting back a bitter sob.

“Ah, but the
ton
is used to seeing scandal associated with my name—not so with you, Father. Were I you, I’d make no attempt to be rid of my wife. Or I promise I’ll see the scandal laid before you at your feet. And we both know the duke of Farleigh could not have that. So resign yourself to my wife, Father. She will be a part of your life…as well as mine.”

The duke stood in the center of the carpet, his countenance as cold…as controlled as Gabriel had pictured it. Yet in his silence lay the triumph of victory.

He had been right to bring her here. Farleigh Hall was his father’s pride and joy; it would annoy him mightily to have her installed here…

He inclined his head. “Good. I see we understand each other.” Raising a dark brow, he continued, “Forgive me for not staying the night, Father. I shall be leaving soon for London. Oh, and Father,” the merest hint of a smile crossed his lips, “it might be wise to put the silver under lock and key. My dear wife seems to have a penchant for thievery—why, she tried to steal my watch the first night in port.”

Upstairs, a small lamp had been lit on a corner table, casting a welcoming yellow glow. But Cassie felt anything but welcome. She collapsed on the bed and pressed cool hands to her burning cheeks. All her pleasure in the room had fled. Gabriel had intended his common-born Yankee bride to be an embarrassment to his father. She felt cheap and terribly out of her element…as he had meant her to feel.

Exactly when she became aware that he had returned and surveyed her from the doorway, she did not know. As for why, she did not care.

She resented his presence in her room, in her very life! But she had just learned a valuable lesson, she told herself bitterly. How very much a pawn she had been! Oh, but never again would she allow him to use her—never!

Slowly she raised her head to stare at him. He did not flinch from her regard, as an honorable man might have, but boldly met her head-on.

“You hate him,” she stated without preamble. “He is your father, yet you hate him. Why?”

His eyes flickered. “My feelings toward my father are justified, Yank—and none of your concern.”

“You married me because I am an American. Because your father is a duke…and I am nothing, a—a nobody. Because you knew he would hate me! ‘I shall be frank,’” she quoted. “Yet you were not. Damn you!” she cried. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Yank, I told you the truth—I simply chose not to reveal it all. My father expected me to marry Lady Evelyn in my brother’s place. I had no intention of becoming his pawn, and this was the one sure way to ensure that did not happen.”

Her face was pale, making her eyes stand out like jewels. “Then at least tell me why he hates Americans! Because he does, doesn’t he?”

“Aye, Yank, that he does. You see, my elder brother Stuart and I did not share the same mother. The duke’s first wife was Margaret. ’Tis said he loved her deeply.”

It did not seem possible that the man in the drawing room was capable of love. Yet Cassie forced herself to listen quietly.

“Margaret had a sister in the colonies. When Stuart was a very small lad, the three of them sailed there, shortly after your Revolution ended, to visit Margaret’s sister. Margaret’s sister and her family had remained loyal to the Crown, but feelings against the Loyalists ran high. While the three of them were there, someone set fire to the house. My father and Stuart were gone, thus they were spared.” There was a small pause. “Margaret and all those within the house perished. My father
was furious. Her death fired in him a deep and abiding hatred for all Americans…even before Stuart was killed in the Battle of New Orleans six months ago.”

Cassie closed her eyes. Two young people in the prime of life—two tragic deaths laid on the doorstep of her country. And yet, it was so unfair, for
she
was not to blame.

She opened her eyes, sick at heart, sick to her very soul. Her hands locked tightly in her lap. “Dear God,” she said numbly, “no wonder he hates me. And you—you knew he would!”

Gabriel did not deny it.

She swallowed painfully. “I do not pretend to understand your motives,” she said, very low. “I know only that you sought to shame your father. But in so doing, you also shame me. And I—I hate you for that, for I cannot change who I am.” A lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Determined he would not see her so defeated, she brushed it away. With a flick of her wrist, she indicated the wardrobe, where Gloria had neatly hung the gowns they’d brought. “No doubt you intended those to be my reward before you turn me out on the street!”

For an instant Gabriel said nothing. He ignored the voice that reminded him Christopher had predicted this would happen—that she would be hurt as much as his father.

He smiled grimly. “Oh, I’ve no intention of turning you out, Yank. You are my wife and will remain so. I am a wealthy man, and I will provide for you. You will never be poor again. So I promised, and so it will be.”

Cassie’s eyes were so dry they hurt. “You will provide for me always? Forever?” Her voice was but a thread of sound.

“Aye, Yank. A lifelong encumbrance.” He could not disguise the mockery that entered his tone, for that is what he had been to his father. “Oh, I am well aware you feel deceived. Betrayed. Take comfort in knowing that this will be my penance.” He bowed with exaggerated politeness. “For now, you need not suffer my presence a moment longer. I’ve come to take my leave of you.”

“You are leaving?”

“Yes. I am returning to London.”

Her eyes flew wide. She was on her feet before she knew it. “And you intend for me to stay here?”