Snowbound With The Baronet (17 page)

W
AS
B
RANDON GOING
to kiss her? Cassandra sensed his intention like the invisible yet powerful pull of the moon upon the tides. She held herself in mute, quivering stillness, not wanting any sudden movement or word to break the spell that drew them toward one another.

At the same time, propriety demanded she must not do anything to encourage the affections of a man who intended to marry someone else. She told herself these were unique circumstances and she had a prior claim on the gentleman. Brandon had wanted her first. He would never have looked twice at that Miss Reynolds if Cassandra had accepted his proposal four years ago.

But she had not accepted, her conscience reminded her in the severest tone of her Great-aunt Augusta. That gave her no claim at all—less than none. Where would Society be if all the spurning sweethearts and jilting fiancées suddenly changed their fickle minds and set out to recapture the hearts of gentlemen they had rejected? Chaos!

Very well, she would do nothing to encourage him. But if Brandon tried to steal a kiss, as she sensed he might, no power on earth could persuade her to resist him.

The tension and anticipation between them intensified with each passing second. Just as that attraction became too potent for them to resist, a voice shattered it like a bauble of blown glass struck with a fire iron.

“There you are, Brandon.” Imogene Calvert marched into the parlor with an air of regal authority at odds with her ridiculous appearance. “I wondered what could be detaining you. Now I see.”

His cousin’s sudden arrival roused Brandon as if from a sweet, improbable dream. He inhaled a sharp breath, sending a tremor through his tall, lean frame. He dropped Cassandra’s hand with a guilty start. “What is it you want now, Imogene?”

“The same thing I have wanted for the past three days, of course.” His cousin advanced upon them and insinuated herself between Brandon and Cassandra. “I want to get to Everleigh. Do not forget what awaits us there.”

The young lady kept her back toward Cassandra as if she were unworthy of notice. Though Miss Calvert did not address a word to her, Cassandra recalled her last comment with harsh clarity.

“
You may save your flattery and your flirtatious banter.”

Did Brandon regard her behavior that way as well? Cassandra could hardly blame him after his family experience and her rejection. Though she’d only meant to spare him from being exploited by her father, her refusal had instead taught him that he could not trust others to have the feelings they claimed.

“I thought you must have gone out with the other men, to fetch someone to repair your carriage.” Miss Calvert continued to address her cousin as if Cassandra was not even there. “Perhaps we will be able get back on the road today after all.”

“I doubt it.” Brandon replied. “Depending on how the snow has drifted, it could take hours to dig the carriage out.”

“Then perhaps we should go in the stagecoach and leave Perkins to bring your carriage to Everleigh when it is ready. It may seem an odd arrangement, but I doubt the other guests will take exception to it under the circumstances.”

Brandon hesitated. Cassandra held her breath. Would he agree to his cousin’s suggestion or reject it? Did
she
want to share the stagecoach box with him all the way to Bath? They would not be alone, but at least it would allow her more time in his company. On the other hand, such a journey made it more likely he would discover the humble position she would occupy in her great-aunt’s household.

She would have told him the truth about her circumstances if he had not been about to propose to another woman—an heiress at that. But if he was committed to someone else, what would it matter? It might only make Brandon suspect she was trying to snare him for his fortune. He had thought badly enough of her over the years. She could not bear to have him think worse now.

At last Brandon answered his cousin. “There is no guarantee the stagecoach will get on the road today, either. Besides, I promised Mrs. Martin we would celebrate Twelfth Night with them and I mean to keep my word.”

Imogene Calvert stamped her foot like a petulant child denied her way. “What about your promise to take me to Everleigh? Does that count for nothing?”

“I mean to keep my promise to you,” Brandon replied with admirable restraint. “But not necessarily today.”

His cousin stormed and wheedled but he remained firm. “Are you certain you would want to appear at Everleigh looking as you do at the moment? Have you even glanced in a looking glass?”

Miss Calvert raised a hand to her hair as if she’d forgotten. “Is it that bad?”

“Worse.” The flesh around Brandon’s mouth flexed and tightened in an obvious effort to suppress a grin. “It is your own fault for never learning to look after yourself without the help of servants. And for refusing Lady Cassandra’s generous offer of assistance.”

“How could I accept?” Miss Calvert spun around to glare at Cassandra. “After the way she treated you, I would rather look a perfect fool than have such a person pretend to be kind to me.”

“Then you have got your wish,” Brandon rolled his eyes and pulled a droll face behind his cousin’s back.

It was all Cassandra could do to contain the laughter that bubbled up within her. It was not simply amusement at his antics, but relief that he seemed not to heed Miss Calvert’s snide comment about her.

“Lady Cassandra has shown you sincere kindness,” he continued, “perhaps more than you deserve.”

“She has not!” With her wild tangle of hair and baleful glare, Imogene Calvert suddenly looked more sinister than comical. “She is only making a show of interest in me to appeal to you. Now that she has been on the shelf for a while she sees that you are a good catch after all. She is trying to win you back and I will not let her use me to do it!”

Those accusations skewered Cassandra’s pride until it writhed, not least of all because there was a tiny grain of truth amid the condemnation.

“You are mistaken!” She struggled to suppress a furious blush which would make her appear guilty of all charges. “I was only trying to help you because it is what I hope others might do for my younger sisters if they were in your situation. I have no designs upon your cousin. I would never pursue a gentleman I had once refused!”

She expected Imogene Calvert to scoff, as her own conscience did. But something in her tone must have rung true enough to give Brandon’s cousin second thoughts. “You wouldn’t?”

Cassandra shook her head, even as she did battle with her conscience. She would have welcomed Brandon’s attentions if he still had any feelings for her, but she would not make a fool of herself by pursuing him.

“Are you satisfied, Imogene?” her cousin demanded. “Lady Cassandra has no romantic interest in me whatsoever.”

That was far from the truth, but Cassandra could not bring herself to contradict him.

“Not that it is any of your business,” Brandon continued, all trace of levity gone. “Besides it is not necessary for you to prove your loyalty to me by being rude to Lady Cassandra. She and I are not enemies. I may not have been pleased when she declined my proposal but she had every right to exercise her choice. If her feelings for me were not sufficient to sustain a marriage between us, I am grateful to her for being truthful with me instead of allowing other considerations to influence her decision. That would not have been in the best interest of either of us.”

He was right, of course, about several of the things he’d said. Cassandra could not deny it. And yet, it grieved her to hear him speak of her refusal as if it had turned out to be a fortunate escape.

Brandon clasped his hands behind his back and regarded Miss Calvert with the air of a stern father rather than a cousin. “Now, I believe you owe Lady Cassandra an apology.”

The young lady hesitated for a long moment then turned and dropped a curtsey to Cassandra. “I beg your pardon for anything I said that was not true. I sincerely hope you can excuse me, for my cousin’s sake.”

She did not sound entirely sincere in her apology. Her wording seemed suspicious, for one thing. Cassandra wondered if the young lady blamed her for Brandon’s annoyance. Yet, for his sake, she was prepared to bear with his cousin, no matter how disagreeable the girl might be to her.

“There is no need for an apology, Sir Brandon. I understand why your cousin would not wish to consort with anyone she believed had injured you. I would do no less in her place. All I ask is for her to accept my assurance that I have no designs upon you, though I do wish you all the good fortune and happiness in the world.”

“Of course,” Miss Calvert murmured, though Cassandra sensed she was not convinced.

Which part did she doubt—Cassandra’s assertion that she wished Brandon well or her denial of any romantic interest in him? Imogene Calvert might not be the most sensible person, but she was no fool.

Cassandra sensed it would take more than a lecture from Brandon to make his cousin view her as anything but a threat.

It appeared his cousin had saved him from making a colossal fool of himself, Brandon reflected as Cassandra and Imogene returned upstairs to repair his cousin’s toilette.

If she had not intruded when she did, he would certainly have succumbed to the temptation to kiss Cassandra. If she had not flung about ridiculous accusations, he would not have heard from Cassandra’s own lips that she had no romantic feelings for him.

Clearly the response he’d sensed from her had been nothing but remorse, perhaps with a flicker of their old camaraderie. He must put Lady Cassandra Whitney out of his mind once and for all. He must return to his sensible plan to secure Miss Reynolds. At least now that he had confronted Cassandra, the old, festering wound to his heart had been lanced so it could heal properly.

Now that he knew the truth about her feelings, he need not linger around the cottage and risk falling prey to any more foolish fancies about a lady who wanted nothing more to do with him.

He strode off to the kitchen and summoned his driver and footman. They both seemed quite comfortable. Perkins was drinking tea while Edward cracked nuts into a bowl for Mrs. Martin.

“Why do we need to go out, sir?” the young footman asked, clearly not eager to stir outside on a winter morning. “I thought we were going to stay here another night.”

“We are.” Brandon tried not to vent his romantic frustration on his servant. “But we still need to make preparations so we can get back on the road tomorrow. Otherwise I fear we may suffer my cousin’s wrath.”

Perkins gave an indulgent chuckle. “Miss Calvert is a spirited young lady.”

Edward rose from the table. “If you will excuse me, Mrs. Martin, I have most of the nuts cracked for you.”

Their hostess glanced toward the bowl he held out for her inspection. “That’s a great help, thank you. Truth to tell, I would just as soon have you men go about your business so we women can make preparations for this evening.”

With that, the three men bundled up and headed off to the village. The sky was still overcast but the wind had died down and the air was a good deal milder. In some places the road had been blown free of snow, which drifted deeply elsewhere.

“At least we can see where we are going, today,” said Brandon. “No chance of losing our way and wandering onto the downs.”

“That’s true, sir.” Perkins pointed to a cluster of buildings ahead. “If we’d only known how near the village was, we might have pressed on the other night.”

Would it have been better if they had reached Cherhill and put up at the inn? Brandon wondered. Then he would not have been forced into such close contact with Cassandra. They might not have had an opportunity to talk over the past and make peace with it.

Brandon spied several villagers making paths through the snow, the way he had done to the Martins’ well. Some of the men were taking the opportunity to amuse their children at the same time, by towing them on the boards instead of rocks to compact the snow. As he listened to the youngster’s laughter and sensed their warm family connection, a pang of envy smote him. No doubt the villagers worked harder than he’d ever been obliged to, with fewer comforts to show for it. But his experience and Cassandra’s proved that rank and fortune did not insure happiness.

She had denied her feelings for Brandon a second time. That was the kind of falsehood he rightly despised. Cassandra’s conscience reproached her as she worked to make Imogene Calvert look presentable.

“Your buttons are not hooked quite properly at the back.” Cassandra set about fixing the problem. “It is difficult for a lady to manage on her own.”

She found herself talking more than usual to smooth the awkwardness of Miss Calvert’s sullen silence. It was clear the young lady had not been entirely reassured by what she and Brandon had to say about their past acquaintance. Not only did his cousin still seem to blame Cassandra for hurting him with her rejection. Miss Calvert also seemed to view her as some sort of threat.

“That looks better.” She strove to conceal her annoyance with Brandon’s cousin for shattering her lovely moment with him. She would have left the ungrateful girl to her own devices, but she looked on this as a sort of penance for her behavior. “Now let’s see what we can do about your hair.”

“I suppose you regret the way you treated my cousin.” Miss Calvert broke her silence to echo Cassandra’s very thoughts. “No one ever told me your name, but Mama did mention that he was badly treated and wanted nothing to do with women or marriage for quite some time afterwards.”

Cassandra tried not to flinch from the charge. Instead she focused her attention on combing out the golden tangle of Miss Calvert’s hair. “I expect many people have made mistakes in their youth which they regret later. I am pleased to hear your cousin has come to view my past actions in a positive light.”

“Yes, that was very sensible of him. He must realize that if you’d accepted him, he would not have had the opportunity to marry Miss Reynolds. Ouch! Must you pull so hard with that comb?”

“I beg your pardon.” Cassandra willed herself to use an even lighter touch, but it was not easy. “I am trying to be as gentle as I can. Perhaps if you had let me comb it out earlier...”