Samantha James (14 page)

Outside he handed her into a richly cushioned carriage pulled by two prancing steeds, but Cassie scarcely noticed as he took his place beside her. She turned her face away, feeling crushed inside. Never in her life had she thought to possess a dress such as this—to look as grand as this. And she had thought—hoped!—that Gabriel might think so,
too. But neither approval nor condemnation had resided in his gaze. He was as cool, as remote, as ever.

In truth, it was hardly the case. His first sight of her, gliding down the stairs, stole the very breath from his lungs. It was all he could do not to haul her into his arms, rip off her dress, lovely though it was, to discover the sweetly curved treasures that lay beneath.

He could not give in to it. He could not give in to
her
.

He damned her, in that instant, for the way her eyes shone huge and eager and hopeful, just as he damned himself for being the coldhearted bastard that he was. And so he summoned an iron control, for he had learned to master his true emotions long ago.

His father had taught him that much, at least.

The Greensboro mansion was ablaze with lights, both inside and out. Cassie watched as the long line of carriages waiting to drop off guests slowly inched forward and realized theirs was next. Now that the time drew near, she was frightened half to death. What was it Gabriel had said?
The eyes of the ton will be upon you
.

All too soon they stopped before the front doors. A heavy knot of apprehension weighted her stomach. Placing her ice-cold hand in Gabriel’s, she alighted from the carriage and allowed him to lead her inside.

Soon they paused at the entrance to a large ballroom. The scent of eau de cologne mingled with that of fresh flowers. Laughter and voices floated everywhere.

Panic swept over her at the crush of people. She began to quake, both inside and out. For the first time she realized what she was about to do—play the part of lady when she was anything
but
a lady. God, but it was almost laughable! Painfully conscious of her incompetence in such a role, she longed to be anywhere but where she was. And then, as she looked out across the sea of strangers, she spotted a familiar face. But it was scarcely a friendly face—no, not in the least…

It was Gabriel’s father.

Just then the majordomo announced, “The earl and countess of Wakefield.”

She was totally unaware that she pressed close to Gabriel’s side, yet such was not the case with Gabriel. All at once he was angry with himself and with her. It had been in his mind to cut her cold, to reject her with callous disregard and leave her alone, knowing it would embarrass his father who watched them. Yet one look at Cassie’s white face and terrified eyes and he knew he could not.

He tucked her hand gingerly into his elbow. “Smile, Yank,” he said under his breath.

Cassie’s face looked as if it would crack. “I—I cannot.”

“Of course you can.” Even as he spoke, he stepped forward. Later she decided it was the sheer force of his will that kept her upright.

A dozen introductions quickly followed. Cassie began to feel dizzy as one face blurred into another. She thought half-hysterically that Evelyn would have been proud; through some miracle, she managed to make the appropriate responses.

A handsome young man clapped Gabriel on the
back. “I can well understand your reason for keeping this jewel from envious eyes, which reminds me…How is it we’ve never before seen this beauty? I wonder that I should not avail myself of a quizzing glass, for by Jove, I could swear I’ve never set eyes upon her before. I’d have remembered a face such as this!”

Gabriel’s smile was cool. “This is Viscount Rayburn, my dear.”

Cassie inclined her head in greeting. “There is little to wonder about,” she said softly. “I’ve never before visited London.” Though the viscount’s manner was somewhat brash, his smile was devilishly charming.

He raised a rakish brow high. “Never visited London! Why, the devil take you, Wakefield! You always did have the best of luck with a turn of the cards—and now in this, too! Wherever then did you find this lovely lass?”

Cool gray eyes rested upon the viscount. “All the way across an ocean, I fear.”

Rayburn blinked. “What! Never say a Yankee!”

Gabriel merely shrugged, while Rayburn again turned his attention to Cassie.

“Thank heaven that wretched war is over,” he announced, “that we might turn our attentions to far more pleasant matters. I confess, I cannot see Wakefield in the role of jealous husband. But, my dear, from now on, you must not let him keep you buried in the country…” When the earl of Harcastle stepped up to Gabriel, Rayburn skillfully guided her away.

So it was that Gabriel’s subsequent absence from her side was not missed. But every so often, Cassie
felt his eyes on her, and his father’s as well. She hated being under their scrutiny, one so mocking and arrogant, one so cold and disapproving. But she need not have worried that she would be left alone. When Rayburn left to fetch a glass of wine for her, several eager young men stepped up to take his place.

It was not long before she heard a commanding female voice. “Move aside, yes, that’s the way. I wish a word with the young lady there.” One by one the crowd parted, like the sea before Moses.

Cassie’s eyes widened. It was the dowager duchess and she was headed straight for her! For a split second all thought deserted her and she could not think what to do. Then, she recovered and dipped low in a curtsy just as the woman stepped before her. “Your Grace,” she murmured.

The duchess was a stout, imposing-looking woman. She wore a gold turban topped with an ostrich feather. Well known for speaking her mind, she wasted no time looking Cassie up and down.

“Your husband’s manners are atrocious,” she pronounced. “Why, he did not even deign to introduce you.” With a swish of her skirts, she settled herself on the bench and gazed expectantly at Cassie.

“Come now, dear. Sit and tell me everything about yourself.”

Cassie’s smile held a trace of wistfulness. “I’m afraid there is little to tell, Your Grace.”

“Come now, don’t be shy. Edmund mentioned how Gabriel found you working your fingers to the bone in Charleston.”

Edmund
. Cassie could not help it. She raised her chin and caught Edmund’s gaze from across the
crowded room, her own faintly challenging. Oh, but she would have liked to put the lie to his claim! But she did not, for if she had gleaned anything from Evelyn these past few weeks, it was that while a man could flirt with scandal and emerge relatively unscathed, for a woman it might mean instant ruin.

And Cassie had no wish to be cast aside. For once she wanted to feel she belonged…with all of her heart she yearned for it.

Still, it was not in her nature to lie. “I—I was made to work for my room and board, yes,” she replied.

“Indeed! Well, work builds character, as the late duke used to say. And frankly, there is a shocking lack of such among young people today.”

Cassie smiled slightly. “I fear you may be right.”

“I must say, my dear, when I first heard Gabriel had wed you, I thought the match outrageous!” The duchess chuckled heartily. “Why, I can just imagine what Edmund had to say! Gabriel took everyone quite by surprise with this marriage. He was quite the libertine, you know, and ’tis quite obvious why he was so taken with you. You are
not
the usual, simpering London beauty.”

Cassie shook her head. “I am hardly a beauty, Your Grace.”

“You see, dear? I have watched you tonight, and you are totally unpretentious. My husband the duke would have found that a sterling quality indeed…as do I, and immensely refreshing as well!”

Gabriel chose that moment to glance across the room at them. The duchess beckoned to him, and seconds later he stood before them.

“Your Grace,” he hailed, bowing low over her hand. “I see you have met my wife.”

While Cassie looked on in wary apprehension, the duchess tipped her nose high. “I have, indeed, and I must say, I am most pleased with your choice of bride.” She fixed him with a stern look. “I only hope that you are worthy of her.”

Gabriel’s polite smile froze. He was unable to believe his ears. It seemed the chit had just charmed the dowager duchess, and by so doing, the impossible had just occurred…

She had just assured her place in society.

N
or was that the end of it.

Gabriel sat in his study the next afternoon, a pile of papers at his elbow, his tea untouched. The household had learned very quickly that the master’s mood was anything but easy this morning. They hastened to do his bidding when summoned, but they knew from experience he was best left alone.

Nor was it difficult to detect the source of his ill temperament. Earlier, a messenger from the duchess of Greensboro had delivered an invitation to the new countess to take tea with her that afternoon. Since then, the bell had scarcely stopped ringing, and the stack of cards and invitations on the silver tray in the entrance hall was mounting.

Now, when the bell pealed once more, Gabriel shoved back his chair and stood. By Jove, he would remain here no longer. Surely even his shipping offices on the noisy docks would offer far more peace and quiet than could be achieved in his private study today.

He stopped short at the sight of his father in the entrance hall, handing Giles his hat and cane.

Edmund turned and spied him. “Gabriel, there
you are. A word with you, if you please.”

Gabriel made no effort to disguise his irritability. “I am on my way out.”

“I assure you,” Edmund stated coolly, “this will not take long.”

Gabriel scowled but turned and led the way back into his study.

Edmund closed the door behind them. “I thought we might discuss Cassandra’s first public appearance.”

Gabriel’s eyes flickered. He said nothing.

“It went surprisingly well, don’t you think?”

“Well enough, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” the duke said softly, “her speech is passable. Her name is not plebeian. Her conduct last night was not at all unseemly.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say, Father?”

“Only this, Gabriel. The girl has possibilities I had not foreseen—or expected.”

“And?” Every muscle in Gabriel’s body had gone steely hard. His father was up to something, but what?

“Therefore, I’ve decided to give a ball two weeks hence in recognition of your marriage.”

A hard smile edged Gabriel’s lips. “Ah, now that’s rich. Do you forget she is an American? Or have you decided to put aside your hatred and welcome her to your bosom?”

Edmund drew himself up proudly. “This changes nothing,” he proclaimed with icy disdain. “Never will I forget what those wretched Yanks did to Margaret and Stuart—never!”

“As I recall, Father, ’twas you who claimed ‘a
change of clothing will not make a lady of her.’”

“Lady Evelyn has taught her much, though I did not realize to what extent she’d met with success until now.”

Gabriel was astounded. “Lady Evelyn!”

“Yes. She has been a frequent visitor at Farleigh of late. She and Cassandra seem quite fond of each other. An unlikely friendship, is it not? As unlikely a pair as the two of you, I might add.”

Gabriel’s smile had long since vanished. “You are mad,” he said harshly. “She is not ready for this. She will make fools of us all.”

Their eyes clashed fiercely. “I would remind you,” Edmund said quietly, “I but play the game you began. ’Twas you who married her, Gabriel. And now you have no choice but to make the best of it.”

Gabriel’s eyes did not waver from his father’s face. “Make the best of it,” he repeated slowly. “Tell me, Father. Is that what you did with my mother?”

Edmund made no reply. He merely stood there, his posture wooden, as implacable as ever.

Possessed of a cold, biting fury, Gabriel’s mouth twisted. “But I forget,” he said derisively. “My mother was never of any consequence to you, was she? Nor was I.”

His father did not deny it. He did not defend himself.

Gabriel made a sound of disgust and threw open the door. “Do whatever you will,” he said furiously. “It matters little to me.”

The front door slammed so hard the windows in the attic shook.

Slowly Edmund made his way to a straight-backed chair, his steps as heavy as his spirit. The venom in Gabriel’s eyes had shaken him badly. God! his heart cried out. He buried his head in his hands. Dear Lord, he asked himself wearily, when had it all started—the hatred, the bitterness.

And when would this enmity cease?

Behind him there was a low cough. He did not look up, thinking it was one of the servants. “Close the door and leave me be,” he muttered. “I shall see myself out shortly.”

The door clicked shut. “Excuse me, sir,” said a voice. “But are you unwell?”

Edmund’s head jerked up. Cassandra stood before him. Her expression was tentative, her eyes mutely questioning. Embarrassed, but determined not to show it, Edmund got to his feet.

“I am fine,” he said somewhat brusquely. “You need not concern yourself with me, girl.”

Cassie’s chin came up. “As I once told your son,” she stated with calm dignity, “I have a name, sir, and I will thank you to use it.”

For an instant the duke appeared quite taken aback at her boldness. “Very well then, Cassandra.” He arose, once again every inch the noble lord, in command of himself and everyone around him. “Actually, your appearance is most fortuitous.”

Fortuitous
? Whatever it was, Cassie thought on a glimmer of panic, it sounded ominous. Somehow she managed to mask her turmoil, and even managed a faint smile. “How so, Your Grace?”

“I am planning a ball two weeks hence in acknowledgment of your marriage. I require your assistance.”

“My assistance?” Her confidence, tenuous at best, fled like frost beneath a blazing sun. All at once, an awful feeling of dread crept through her.

“Yes. I have prepared a guest list.” He withdrew a neatly folded paper from the pocket of his coat. “I’ve no doubt Gabriel will wish to add to it, but I could use your help to commence addressing the invitations.”

Cassie blanched. “I’m afraid that is not possible.” Her tone was scarcely audible.

“I beg your pardon?” His was clipped and abrupt.

Cassie stared at the rich carpet on the floor beneath her feet. Her hands twisted nervously in the folds of her skirt. “I…I fear I cannot help you.”

Edmund’s regard sharpened. “Cannot…or will not?”

His voice stabbed at her like the blade of a knife. Cassie stood mutely. To her horror, a burning ache closed her throat.

“I would like an answer, if you please, Cassandra.”

The breath she drew was deep and frayed. “Cannot…will not…what does it matter? I would help you if I could, Your Grace, but I am afraid it simply is not possible.”

“And I fail to see why not!”

Her voice was low and tear-choked. “Because I—I can write my name, but—but nothing else!”

There was a stunned silence, and then his voice came, almost deadly quiet. “Do you mean to say you cannot read? Or write?”

Cassie nodded miserably. Never in her life had
she felt so ashamed. The tears began to fall in earnest.

Edmund floundered for his handkerchief, then located it at last and thrust it into her hands. Though he’d have sworn the chit was not high-strung, weepy females made him nervous, they always had. Lord, all he needed was for her to fall victim to the vapors yet!

He stared at her shaking shoulders. “There now, Cassandra. There’s no need to cry.” He awkwardly patted her shoulder. “’Tis a matter easily remedied.”

“How?” she choked out.

“How else? The services of a tutor are easily obtained—”

“A tutor? For the earl of Wakefield’s wife? Oh, but your precious
ton
will love that.”

He pondered a moment. “You are right. That leaves us with only one choice then. I will teach you.”

“You?” She was aghast.

“Of course. I assure you, Cassandra, I am quite capable.”

That she did not doubt. She mopped her eyes and looked at him. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do this?”

He gazed down his nose at her, once again the imperious lord. “I’ll not have it bandied about London that you cannot read. Lord knows the gossip mongers have more than enough to sustain them as is.”

Cassie’s eyes searched his. “Then I would ask a favor of you,” she said slowly. “Will you not tell Gabriel?”

Edmund sighed. “If you wish it, I will not tell him.”

Cassie did not delude herself. Edmund had not agreed to this task out of the goodness of his heart; his sole concern was that she not bring further shame upon his name.

Gently, she touched his arm. “Thank you,” she said.

Edmund cleared his throat, embarrassed and something else, something she could not identify. “Now then,” he said gruffly, “I believe Gabriel spends most afternoons at his shipping offices. Come to my townhouse promptly at one tomorrow afternoon.”

Her lessons began the very next day. Cassie approached the first with mingled anxiety and delight. Though she had a hungry desire to read and write, Edmund had only to cast the most idle of glances at her and she longed to disappear forever. But as the week wore on, her apprehension began to lessen. His manner was stiff and formal, occasionally impatient, and always demanding. Like Gabriel, he seldom smiled. But she began to suspect he was not the ogre she had first believed.

She studied him covertly one afternoon. Wings of silver swept back from his temples. His mouth was thin and autocratic, his nose hawklike and arrogant. For a man of his years, he really was quite handsome. Indeed, she found herself speculating, no doubt Gabriel would resemble him as he aged…

Cassie could not help it. More and more often she was given to wonder afresh what had happened to alienate father and son. When they were
together, the tension between them was thinly disguised. And Cassie could not help but note that while Edmund often mentioned Stuart, it was not so with Gabriel. Indeed, were it not for the strong resemblance between the two, Cassie might have been convinced that Gabriel was not Edmund’s son at all…

Cassie returned home from her lessons one afternoon to find Giles opening the door to Lady Evelyn.

“Evelyn!” she cried. “Oh, you cannot know how good it is to see you again!”

Evelyn squeezed her fingers in return. “I convinced Papa it was time to return to London,” Evelyn laughed. “Dear Papa! He never could refuse me anything, you know.”

Cassie was thrilled, though deep in her heart, she found the duke of Warrenton almost as intimidating as Edmund Sinclair. There was no question that Reginald Latham’s stern, unrelenting countenance was highly disturbing.

Were it not for Evelyn, Cassie would have refused any and every invitation that came ’round. She saw Gabriel only at dinner, whereupon he promptly bowed and informed her he would be spending the rest of the evening at his club. She was too unsure of herself to attend any evening engagements alone, though Evelyn assured her such things were not at all unusual. At Evelyn’s insistence, she went to an afternoon tea with the dowager duchess of Greensboro, and attended a garden party given by Evelyn’s cousin, the countess of Langston. Though Evelyn ecstatically assured her she had done splendidly,
Cassie was a bundle of nerves the rest of the night.

Finally the night of Edmund’s ball arrived. Her gown was lovely, of soft emerald silk that brought out the gold of her eyes and the burnished highlights of her hair. The sleeves were tiny, gathered by shimmering silver thread. Soft, matching slippers had been laid out beside it on the bed, along with a dainty beaded reticule. Bathed and perfumed, Cassie sat before the dressing table while Gloria dressed her hair in a simple but elegant chignon swept high upon her crown.

Finally the last pin had been secured. Cassie smiled at the maid in the mirror. “Gloria, would you mind terribly fetching me a cup of chocolate? My stomach rebels at the thought of food, but a cup of hot chocolate would be wonderful.”

“Not at all, mum.”

Once the girl was gone, Cassie could sit still no longer. There was no point in dallying, so she decided to finish dressing. She went behind the screen and carefully stepped into the gown. She was struggling with the hooks and eyes when she heard the door open.

“Gloria,” she called out. “My fingers are as much a muddle as my mind. I’m afraid I need help with these dratted fastenings.”

There were several soft footfalls on the carpet. Cassie turned and presented her back, obligingly bending her head to allow the girl better access. Unfaltering fingers made quick work of the rest of the fastenings.

“Thank you,” she said with a half-laugh, smoothing the folds of her skirt as she turned. “You’re so much more efficient than I—”

Bold silver eyes gleamed down at her. Gabriel slanted her a lazy smile. “I will be happy to lend my services,” he drawled, “now or any other time.”

Cassie straightened her shoulders. “You might have knocked,” she snapped.

“In my own house? I think not.”

A suitable comeback failed her. Cassie could only glare her dissatisfaction, but her anger quickly waned at the distraction of his appearance. He wore a dark green velvet frock coat and brocade waistcoat. Skintight breeches showed off the beauty of his form. There was a froth of white lace at his throat and sleeves, yet never had he exuded a more intense masculinity.

Little did she realize Gabriel’s thoughts followed much the same vein. While his fingers had been busily engaged, his eyes fixed hungrily on the naked expanse of her back. He’d fought an overwhelming urge to press his lips to the vulnerable sweep of her nape. Though the gown was admittedly magnificent, the wearer was by far the more stunning of the two. Her neck and shoulders were smooth and bare, devoid of any jewelry. And indeed, such loveliness needed no further adornment. Yet he could hardly have her looking like a beggar…

He pulled out a long slender case from his breast pocket. Aware of her gaze, he flicked the catch with his nail, offering her a glimpse of the contents. Cassie caught her breath, for inside lay a
glittering diamond, vivid and bright, surrounded by a delicate, fragile chain of finest gold.

He lifted it from the case, saying, “This should go well with the gown, Yank.” Cassie stood mutely, her head bowed low, while he fastened the chain about her neck. His hands on her shoulders, he guided her to the mirror.

“Well, Yank, do you approve?”