Samantha James (12 page)

On seeing her standing in the doorway, the girl arose, the picture of grace and beauty. “Hello,” she murmured. “You must be Gabriel’s new bride.” The voice was as sweetly pleasing as her features. She extended a gloved hand. “My name is Evelyn.”

Evelyn
. Cassie longed to curl up and die. Never had she been more aware of her shortcomings, her own humble beginnings. This girl, with her fair hair, petite and graceful figure, demure and soft-spoken voice, was the one Gabriel was to have married. She cringed inside, for this beautiful girl was everything she was
not…

“Oh, dear…you are the duke of Warrenton’s daughter.” The instant the words were out, Cassie could have kicked herself.

But the girl merely smiled, a faint smile, but a smile nonetheless. “I see you know of me. Frankly, that makes this easier.” She paused. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“I-I am Cassie.”

“Well, then, Cassie,” she swept an elegant hand toward the divan, “may we sit down?”

Cassie flushed. For the first time she realized how ill-equipped she was to handle the role of lady. “Of course,” she murmured. They sat, Evelyn on one end, Cassie on the other.

A tiny smile curled Evelyn’s lips. “Do you know,” she said softly, “I’ve wanted to visit you for several days. But I was half-terrified of you, for I did not know what to expect.”

Cassie hesitated. “Do you know…I-I feel the same!” The admission slipped out before she could stop it. But Evelyn merely laughed; miraculously, the tension cleared as if by some magic.

“I do not mean to be rude,” Cassie said after a moment. “But I expected you to…to hate me.”

A glimmer of understanding flashed in Evelyn’s sky-blue eyes. “Because I was to have wed Gabriel—and he married you instead?”

Cassie nodded. “You must have been very upset when you learned what he had done.”

Evelyn folded small, white-gloved hands in her lap. “Oh, dear me, not at all. My father was angry at first, for he was the one who wanted the two families united. But he will accept it; indeed, I believe he has begun to already. And I must be honest with you, Cassie. I am heartily relieved there is no need to marry Gabriel. He has always frightened me half to death.” She gave a sad little smile. “And indeed, he still does. Stuart was always so charming and carefree. Gabriel is much more…oh, I don’t know quite how to say it!…brooding almost.”

Oh, yes, Cassie agreed with a shiver. That he was.

“Did you love Stuart?” Cassie flushed when she realized how bold she sounded. “Never mind,” she said quickly. “It’s none of my business—”

“Oh, I do not mind, really. I was fond of Stuart, but I did not love him. I believe we would have made a good match, and I genuinely mourn his death. But it was never my wish to be wed simply for who my grandfather’s grandfather was, and his before that. Oh, I enjoy the London Season, the balls and
soirees
and routs, but I’ve always despised being put on display so! It would be grand to marry for love, though such things are most unfashionable. But I fear ’tis hardly likely. My mother might have understood, bless her dear, departed soul, but my father expects me to do my duty, and so I have resigned myself to my fate.”

There was a lapse of several seconds before Evelyn spoke again. “I know I’m being dreadfully
audacious, and so you need not tell me, but I confess I am frightfully curious. Did you and Gabriel marry…out of love?”

Love? No, not that, never that…Cassie might have laughed if she did not suddenly feel like weeping…Even now, her cheeks burned with hurt, shame, and fury as she thought of that arrogant pair—father and son. Unexpected though it was, she felt a surprising bond with this particular woman who was so different from herself…and yet not so different after all. Before she even knew it, the story of how she had come to marry Gabriel—how he had found her at Black Jack’s, how Gabriel’s sole intent was to spite his father—was pouring out.

Evelyn quickly hid her shock, sensing that it would distress Cassie even more. She patted Cassie’s hand in sympathy, for she could not help but feel sorry for this poor girl whom life had treated so unfairly!

“’Tis common knowledge Gabriel and his father are forever at cross-purposes.” A disapproving frown furrowed Evelyn’s white brow. “Why, it makes me furious that both could be so mean-spirited!”

“If it were within my power, I’d like nothing more than to show the two of them that they are wrong about me.” Cassie’s voice was a low murmur. Her hands clenched; she spoke as if to herself. “They are convinced I will fail, but I vow I will not…
I will not
.”

At that, Evelyn’s eyes began to glow. “I say, Cassie, that’s it.” Excitement ripened. “That’s it exactly!”

Cassie shook her head, not understanding.

“Don’t you see? You are right. You cannot let these two best you. You must become the very thing they do not expect—a lady.”

“How?” Cassie stared down at her reddened hands. “You forget, I am a—a tavern wench.” Lord, but it hurt to say the words. “I would not even know a—a morning frock from an evening gown if it were not for the maid.”

But it seemed she had found an ally in Evelyn. “But don’t you see? I see you here now, a beautiful young woman, a match for any maid in London! Had you not told me, I would never have guessed you had such an unfortunate beginning. And it does not matter, for I could school you in proper manners and deportment. I could teach you how to be a hostess. How to run a household. And I do not think it would be so difficult, for I suspect you have a very good instinct for what is suitable already.”

Beautiful
. Did this lovely young miss really think she was beautiful? Oh, she could almost believe it…. Cassie warned herself it would be unwise to let her hopes gather. Yet the very thought of besting those two arrogant Sinclairs was so very tempting.

But most of all, this was a chance to become a lady, a
true
lady…Her heart beat faster.

“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why would you do this?”

“I’ve never had a proper friend, not since I was a child. After Mama died, for the most part Papa remained here in the country. I was left with a tutor and governess as my only companions.” Evelyn
reached out and gripped her hands. “And, oh, I don’t know why, but I feel as if we’ve known each other forever!”

Cassie smiled mistily. “It is odd, isn’t it? Because I feel the same.”

Evelyn’s eyes were shining. “Then let me do this, Cassie. Let me help you!”

Cassie squeezed her fingers. “Do you know,” she said softly, “I think you are my friend already. And I gladly accept any help you care to give.”

Evelyn laughed, a sweet, tinkling sound. “Excellent! Now, we really must do something about your hands…’tis a good thing a lady always wears gloves, is it not?…”

Thus began the business of becoming a lady.

O
ver the next weeks, Edmund Sinclair watched all unfold with no little amount of trepidation. Lady Evelyn was a frequent caller; she and Cassandra sat in the courtyard most every afternoon. For the life of him, Edmund could not fathom why Evelyn bothered with the chit. Although, he finally admitted grudgingly, without her wretched clothing, her appearance was at least presentable. Why, on first sight one might easily mistake her for a genteel young lady. Ah, but he knew better than to trust one such as she. She saw his son only as a lump of gold!

A hand like a vice seemed to squeeze his chest. God, but he missed Stuart! Losing Stuart had been like losing Margaret…a part of himself forever gone. And now Gabriel was all he had left.

If only things had been different! But he and Gabriel had never been close…they would
never
be close. And now it was too late, Edmund acknowledged wearily, for his youth was spent. Perhaps the future as well. Was it truly so wrong to ask that Gabriel marry and produce an heir? There was pride in the Sinclair name, though it seemed Gabriel wanted none of it.

It caused Edmund great sadness—and immense
frustration—to think his name might die out, that he might die without ever seeing his grandson, yet he could never confess such to Gabriel. There was so much distance between them, and he knew not how to breach it! Even as a lad, Gabriel had been ever willful, ever defiant.

A weary sigh escaped. Edmund made his way tiredly to the chair behind his desk, all at once feeling far older than even the heavens. Outside the drawing room, a gentle breeze carried with it the lilt of two feminine voices…and something else that made an odd little pain knot his heart, for it was something he had not heard in years…

The sound of laughter.

Gabriel climbed the entrance stairs to his elegant London townhouse. His steps were unerringly precise, his eyes unwaveringly clear despite the fact he was quite certain he’d never been more drunk in his life.

Yet still his drink-laden conscience allowed him no ease.

Hours later, he was still in his library, long legs sprawled out before him. In his hand was a glass. On the table beside him was a delicately-faceted crystal decanter of brandy. Gabriel stared into the golden liquid, his mind as clouded as his senses. Outside the streets of London lay still and silent as night turned to morn.

His return to England had gone exactly as planned. His father had been appalled to find his son forever tied to his Yankee bride…

But Gabriel’s moment of triumph had been altogether brief—and infinitely less satisfying than
he had anticipated. Nor did he understand this nagging feeling that plagued him—guilt of all things! He harshly reminded himself what Edmund Sinclair had done to his mother, the years of bittersweet hope, of crushing regret…of empty heartache.

He alone had known. He alone had cared. And that was something Gabriel could never forget. Nor could he forgive his father for the way she had died.

Yet thoughts of his father inevitably brought reminders of Farleigh.

He had missed Farleigh. He hadn’t realized how much until he had returned! And still, there was a part of him that hated it.

No, whispered a voice. It wasn’t Farleigh he hated. It was the memories which lurked there, the memories which refused to be shut away. That was why he had not stayed. There were too many memories there…of his mother…her death. He had vowed he could not stay—he
would
not. He had done what he’d set out to do—dumped Cassie in his father’s lap and resumed his life in London.

But now he was tormented by still more memories…of warm lips and skin like fresh cream, as soft as swansdown. Of sweet-smelling hair. And the taste of revenge had not been nearly as sweet as the taste of those lips…

What madness was this! His mouth twisted. He was no besotted fool to take on like a lovesick youth. His mood grew even more black. Deliberately he hardened his heart against his poor but beautiful bride. He did not want a wife. Most certainly he did not
need
one. He had returned to
London with every intention of forgetting he had one…

Far easier in thought than in deed.

For Cassie, the days passed quickly. She learned to pour tea, what to say when exchanging niceties, what
not
to say. She was exhausted, her head spinning by the time she fell into bed at night, yet she was determined she would succeed in this.

Feeling emboldened one day, she entreated Evelyn to accompany her to tea with the duke in the drawing room that afternoon. Cassie hated knowing the duke watched her. He was not openly hostile, yet she sensed his disapproval. He was stiff and formal; Cassie’s hand was trembling so fiercely she feared she would slosh tea all over the front of her gown. But Evelyn had clapped delightedly afterward.

“It’s as though you’ve been born to it! Oh, Cassie, I knew you could do it!”

It was then that Cassie did something she had not dared to do only a month ago…she dared to dream. And she began to truly believe that despite the odds, she might find some measure of happiness that she could never have attained had she stayed in Charleston. She was well clothed, safe, and secure. Gabriel had promised she would always have a home—and she clung to that promise for she dared not do otherwise. Still, there were times she half-feared closing her eyes that it might all disappear.

Early one afternoon in late July, Davis announced Christopher Marley. Cassie’s eyes lit up. “Please, Davis, show him in!” Christopher strode in sec
onds later, looking dashing in pale pantaloons and frock coat.

“Christopher, oh, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you again!” Cassie extended both hands. She had to restrain herself from hugging him; she’d have done exactly that if Evelyn were not at her side.

He laughed. “My lady, I had visions of you withering away in the country. I decided at last it was time to see for myself how you fared.”

Cassie did not miss the silent query in his eyes. His concern warmed her heart. “I am well,” she said softly, then smiled slightly. “And you need not bite your tongue. Lady Evelyn is well aware of the circumstances of our meeting…Are the two of you acquainted?”

Christopher hid his surprise. He’d certainly not expected to find such a scene as this, but for Cassie’s sake, he was heartily glad. “My lady,” he said warmly. “We met several times during the Season last year, though I hardly expect you to remember.” He bent low over her hand and pressed his lips to Evelyn’s fingers.

Evelyn dipped a curtsy. “I remember you quite well, sir.”

“Then, milady, I consider myself quite privileged.” As Evelyn’s cheeks turned pink, he turned to Cassie. His eyes approved the visible changes in her—the stylish white flowered muslin day dress and chic upswept hairstyle. “I must say, you cut quite the figure.”

It was Cassie’s turn to flush. “I can be no less than honest, Christopher. The credit for the woman you see before you belongs to Evelyn.”

Evelyn promptly shook her head. “Do not belittle your efforts, Cassie! I only offered suggestions. It was you who did all the work!”

Christopher chuckled. “Two humble women—a prize beyond price, I’d say. Though ’tis obvious you’ve both done a splendid job. I applaud your efforts.”

Evelyn beamed, but her smile was rather short-lived. “Unfortunately,” she sighed. “We have two small problems. We’ve not yet had time to see to her horsemanship. And though we’ve mastered the basics of most dances, I think ’twould be much easier for Cassie to learn if she had a gentleman for a partner!”

Christopher gave an exaggerated bow. “’Tis a good thing then that I’ve booked a room at the village inn. Therefore, ladies, I am happy to place myself at your disposal.”

The next week found the three of them together almost incessantly. Mornings were spent in the gardens or the drawing room. Afternoons were spent in the music room, where Evelyn and Christopher endeavored to teach her to dance, and they ended the day with a ride around the grounds. Cassie longed to ask if he had seen Gabriel; the question hovered on her lips a dozen times a day, yet she could never quite summon the courage to voice it.

To all appearances, it seemed Gabriel intended to stay in London forever—Cassie was not sure if she were relieved or piqued. The duke, as well, had gone to London on business for several days. But Christopher and Evelyn were charming and engaging, and she could not deny she enjoyed the time
spent in their company. Though she looked forward to her riding lessons, it would be some time yet before she would be comfortable in a sidesaddle.

But it was the hours spent in the music room that Cassie truly relished. Under Evelyn and Christopher’s tutelage, she soon mastered the minuet and country dance. On this particular sunny afternoon, the pair demonstrated what had been a most scandalous dance—the waltz. When Evelyn then played the tune she’d been humming on the pianoforte, Cassie was entranced by the lilting music and begged to learn the steps as well. Soon her steps matched Christopher’s. She began to swirl and dip, feeling both light and light-hearted. Never had she felt so carefree, carefree enough to forget about everything, even her errant husband…She was laughing, her senses spinning, when at last they whirled to a halt. Still laughing, she gave a deep curtsy and gracefully pulled herself upright…

She stared straight into blistering gray eyes.

Of the three, Christopher was the first to recover, though later he cursed himself for his startled and inadequate greeting. “Gabriel! The last I knew you were still in London. What brings you to Farleigh?”

Gabriel’s smile was a poor disguise for his displeasure. “I might ask you the same, my friend. But it seems the answer is already very clear.” His gaze slid to Cassie and then back to his friend’s countenance.

But he had yet to say a word to her. To Cassie it was like a slap in the face. She felt like a child who’d been caught stealing and deserved a whipping.

And there was no doubt that Gabriel was far from pleased. He had thought to retire his lovely wife to the country and forget about her. But she was forever on his mind, so much so that he’d been compelled to return to Farleigh. He had not, however, expected to find his wife in the arms of another man, let alone one who called himself friend!

Nor was his wife the ragged creature he’d left behind. Had he gone by her in passing, it might have taken a second glance to recognize her—but the faintly defiant blaze in those beautiful golden eyes was only too familiar.

Lady Evelyn had slipped around to Christopher’s side. Gabriel accorded her a slight bow. “Lady Evelyn,” he said smoothly, “always a pleasure to see you. Now if the two of you don’t mind, I trust you will excuse us. I’ve been deprived of the pleasure of my wife’s company for far too long. I should dearly like to have her to myself for a time.”

“But of course,” Evelyn said brightly, turning to Christopher. “Can I interest you in an early supper, sir? I confess, Cook makes the most delicious pigeon pie in the shire.”

Christopher forced himself to relax. “An excellent idea, Lady Evelyn.” His gaze was as chill as Gabriel’s. “No need to see us out, old man. We can manage on our own quite nicely.”

The instant they were gone Cassie rounded on him. Her spine was rigid. “That was rude!”

“Indeed.” His lip curled. “What would you know about rude, my dear?”

“Far more than you, apparently!”

That bold, arrogant eye wandered over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. “I must say, Yank, you seem to have adapted to your role with consummate ease.”

Cassie’s jaw clamped tight. “And I’ll wager that displeases you.”

It did not, though it should have, Gabriel found himself admitting reluctantly. He made no reply. Instead his attention was drawn to the slender curve of her neck, where the ivory smoothness of her skin met the rich honey-gold of her hair.

“Do you have plans for the remainder of the afternoon, Yank?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Christopher has very kindly consented to giving me riding lessons this past week.”

The plane of his jaw hardened. “You need ask no other man to teach you, Yank. I am your husband.”

“But my husband,” she stated archly, “was nowhere to be found.”

“And now he is, so let us leave it at that, Yank. In any case, since you appear to have your heart set on riding this afternoon, I would not dare disappoint you.”

Disappoint her? Torment her, more like!

He turned her in the direction of the staircase. “Go change,” he ordered. “I will meet you at the stables in fifteen minutes.”

In her room, Cassie rang for Gloria. She dropped on the edge of the bed, the droop of her mouth mutinous. How dare he simply reappear, as if he’d not been gone these many weeks! She’d have dearly loved to leave him waiting there forever. Only
the certainty that he would come and fetch her himself stopped her from playing that game.

With Gloria’s assistance, she was soon snugly fashioned into a riding habit of deep green velvet. She was not surprised to discover Gabriel already at the stables. A groom stood by, holding two horses. Her heart gave a funny little leap at the sight of him. He looked every inch the aristocrat, from the tip of his well-shined boots to the folds of his snowy-white cravat. Skintight breeches clung devilishly to his thighs, outlining every sleek, hard muscle. Impressively wide shoulders stretched the dark material of his jacket so tightly there was nary a wrinkle. But his expression was one of leashed impatience.

“You are ready?”

She nodded and moved to mount Ariel, the docile little mare she’d been riding all week. Cassie, however, was not inclined to be so meek. “I wish I could ride astride like you,” she muttered aloud. Though not, she decided hastily, on his mount. Black and powerful, his horse looked to be as fierce and contrary as his master.

Already up and in the saddle, Gabriel turned his head. “A lady does not ride astride,” he said curtly.

“Ah, but I am no lady, am I?”

In truth, Cassie expected no reply; he made none. While Gabriel led the way, Cassie focused all her attention on maintaining her seat. She wouldn’t have minded a tumble in the company of Evelyn or Christopher, but to suffer so before her husband was another matter entirely. But he kept a slow pace, and for that she was grateful.