My Divinely Decadent Duke Page 12

  “Rest assured, Montgomery, my future wife need not fear me. The issue is closed.” The duke ascertained strangeness in his future brother-in-law’s voice. “We shall have to talk one day, but for today, shall we tell the children?” He dragged Cassandra by the hand and went to sit with them at their long table filled with primers, tablets, pads, pencils, and the like. The toy soldiers were neatly displayed on shelves along the back wall.

  “We have a surprise for you, Alicia and Alfie. How would you like to come to live with me and my mother, Lady Madelaine? You would be able to play with Clayo, and the puppies, and make sand castles on our own beach. Would that please you?” he asked in merriment.

  The children looked at each other and Cassandra, and started to cry. “We cannot leave Auntie Cassandra behind. Thank you, your Grace,” Alicia sniffled. “Unless she comes too, we cannot leave.”

  Cassandra went to the children.

  The duke patted their heads. “We will all go to live at my house. Alfie, you will always be welcome in our nursery.” Did he just say nursery?

  “In one week’s time, your Aunt Cassandra and I are to be married. Do you know what that means? She will be my wife. We will be a happy family in my villa, with my mother—my dog—my puppies—my wife, Cassandra, and,” he paused, for emphasis, “you will get to meet the sire of Clayo’s brood. Does not that sound an excitement?”

  “What’s a sire, your Grace?” Alfie asked.

  “It’s the proper language when we speak of animal pedigrees. Rufus is the father of Clayo’s puppies.”

  “You and Alfie will be our flower girl and ring bearer at the ceremony in the chapel,” Cassandra said.

  “What do we have to do?” asked Alicia.

  “Wear a new dress and outfit and you, Alicia will carry my flowers. Alfie will carry a pillow with the wedding rings on it. Is that not so, your Grace?”

  “What about my father?” Alfie asked.

  “He and Felicity will be at the ceremony, and Alfie, you can consider our home your second home. Won’t that be an excitement?” Cassandra asked.

  “I won’t have to leave Father forever like Felicity says?” little Alfie questioned.

  Taken aback, Montgomery said, “Of course not, son. It’s utter nonsense. You will always be my heir and foremost in my heart and life.” He patted his son’s head, but his frown lay frozen.

  The youngster seemed soothed for the moment.

  Anger flushed the earl’s bristled brow. The duke didn’t envy the man the obvious pain and hurt in his expression.

  It occurred to the duke that love was a dangerous emotion—only for fools. Love hurts everyone around it. Yet, there could be a good side. He loved his mother, but he argued it was a different type of love. He owed the woman his life—the nine months of discomfort she endured to bring him into the world. Only that kind of motherly love was good.

  Again, the duke noticed the absence of Felicity, the earl’s wife. Althorn became aware of a warm hand still entwined in his, felt it tighten and realized it was time to go.

  “Montgomery, we go to inform my mother of our news. I will return your sister within the hour.” He dropped her hand, waved goodbye to the children and escorted her down the elegant staircase to his Landau.

  What had he done? It was too late to retreat from the arrangement. He must guard his heart before it became entwined like his hand in hers. They could not be one. Once she said to him she hoped friends could become lovers. Once he might have believed it, but not now. That kind of love sucks the energy from the air and makes it stale and unreachable.

  They rode back to his villa in silence until he spoke, “Your brother is an unhappy man. His wife spends a great deal of her time away from him and the children. I was aware of her animosity for you and Alicia, but is he easily fooled by her?”

  “I’m sorry you had to witness his remorse, Althorn, but now perhaps you can see the predicament I’m in.” Her voice saddened.

  “You are no longer in the situation, Cassandra. You have my protection.” His voice was strong and echoed assurance.

  “What’s wrong?” She turned to face him. “I look at you now and your expression is unreadable.”

  “Don’t expect too much of me and the arrangement. We both have end goals. Yours is for safety and it will be yours. This I promise on my honor. Mine is for the rehabilitation of my mother. I know how she feels about you, but I cannot lie. I am not in love with you—not that you don’t deserve love, but it cannot be mine.” Because I am not worthy of you.

  ****

  Cassandra lowered her gaze. He’d stabbed her in the heart again. Yet she answered, “I understand perfectly, Althorn. I will keep my end of the bargain. I expect no more than we agreed. I cannot prevaricate either. I do not love you.” Liar. Big liar, big liar, big liar.

  “It’s not too late to withdraw from the arrangement.” Sweet heaven, please don’t let him do this.

  “No, I’ve asked for permission to marry you and it was granted. The die is cast. We shall make the best of it,” was his solemn reply.

  Soon they arrived at the villa. He asked that the horses remain ready to depart again. Liveried servants sprang to the carriage door.

  He assisted her up the steps where Chester waited.

  “Afternoon. Is my mother awake?” he asked with his usual concern.

  “Yes, I have just served her tea.”

  “Good.”

  He ushered Cassandra into the drawing room where the dowager sipped her beverage. Her face brightened in a smile.

  “Mother, I have news for you.”

  Cassandra went to Lady Madelaine and held her hand.

  “I’ve received permission from Montgomery to marry Cassandra. The ceremony will be in one week. There will be preparations to make, but it will be a small wedding—family only.”

  His mother’s smile beamed as she clenched Cassandra’s hand and then placed her lips to Cassandra’s palm.

  Cassandra sat next to the older woman and kissed her cheek. Never had a woman celebrated an engagement in such turmoil and unconventionality. She had only one perfect kiss to remember him by, with no guarantee of more. A loveless inconvenient marriage, all her idea, and now she hated herself for it. What hurt most of all was that the saucy chemise and the rosebud black corset would remain unused. What price had she paid?

  They exchanged happy stares, sipped tea, and the dowager wrote in her notebook of her happiness and showed them her note. Cassandra and Gordon Althorn pasted smiles on their faces.

  She looked at his strong massive chest and his dark locks of hair. He was a fine specimen of noble intentions. Why did she feel like someone punished her for her dreams? To be so close to him and not be able to touch, smell, think, speak, or hear sweet nothings whispered in a lover’s embrace. She wanted to feel his body close to hers, explore every inch of him, and listen to his heart beat. Cassandra wanted his love, but she wouldn’t beg for it. He would have to be agreeable. Perhaps she should wage a war and find ways to have him love her, just like in the penny novels she read over and over again.

  Her mind wandered to a girlhood dream of a handsome husband and a bride—and a wedding night filled with anticipation. Except for her, there would be no consummation. Just business as usual.

  She didn’t know if she could continue life with him without love.

  Her spine stiffened in acceptance of the insanity of the idea. When the appropriate time passed, she kissed the dowager, her future mother-in-law. With a wistful smile spoke, “We shall all be happy. The house will be filled with love, care, children, and puppies.” But no babies. “We will have long walks on the beach and I can read to you when you are ready to hear romance stories. As you know, Lady Madelaine, I am quite the romantic lady.” And he has extracted a high price from me for the premises.

  Chester came in with a decanter and three lace-etched cordial glasses. “Your Grace, this good news deserves a celebratory toast to you and Lady Cassandra. May I pour?”

 
Cassandra was taken aback by the strange gesture, but then everything about them was even stranger.

  “Thank you. Yes it is time for a toast.” In a departure from decorum, he said, “Get another glass, Chester. There is a lot we have to do in a short time.”

  “Your Grace, it is not proper,” said the manservant.

  “It is proper if I say so. We need memorable moments when our house is invaded by children.”

  He glanced at her, sly grin formed.

  And no mention of a wife. She had sold herself in servitude with full knowledge of the pain it would cause her. She needed time to think on what she was about do, weigh all the consequences. Had she exchanged desire for security for the pain of loving him?

  Chester returned with the fourth glass and poured. They smiled and lifted them for the toast.

  “To us,” he said and gulped it down. “Now, Cassandra, we must leave. There is much to do.” He turned to his mother. “Kindly seek rest. I will be back shortly.”

  They departed. He assisted her to the Landau but no words were spoken. It was like someone had died and they were in funereal silence.

  When the duke arrived at the Castle Inn, he helped her descend the carriage and spoke his first words during the trip back. “My mind is awhirl. Let’s see, I will keep you apprised of the activities and preparations by messenger. I will purchase a ring. However, I leave all the other fripperies to you. Have invoices sent to me. My ducal coach will return Sunday next at eight a.m. to take the family to the ceremony.”

  His conversation sounded like a discussion on a matter of trivial importance: the purchase of a fine horse, a delicate antique piece of furniture—or a business matter. Truth was, he’d purchased a caretaker. Damn him.

  Althorn kissed her hand. “I am told it’s ill fortune to see the bride on the wedding day. You have much to do and I will not intrude. Until then.”

  “But…but…” she exclaimed.

  He entered the Landau and sped away—from her—from the arrangement.

  In many ways, she’d issued a challenge and the one thing she could respond to would be to accept. She would make it work. There was no other choice. To escape Felicity would be the first change. There was a long sigh of relief. Safety at last.

  Cassandra determined to see the French modiste’s seamstresses to sew the gown she would design, and it included ensembles for the children. They would accompany her to the London shops and make a day of it. She would not allow him to steal her joy. No matter what, his clinical acceptance of the arrangement would not deter her. Cassandra determined she’d be the most beautiful and presentable bride in the county. Orange blossoms…she’d need to purchase them. All brides wore them in their bonnets, but she would have hers entwined in her hair. Her gown would be worthy of a Grecian goddess.

  She hummed as she ascended the steps to her quarters.

  My dear duke, you do not have any idea to what you’ve committed yourself. One of us will bring the other to their knees—hopefully for a real proposal that involves love…and sex.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cassandra had the children ready for the London trip to the French modiste, Madame Lisande. They awaited the ducal coach of her cousin, Duchess of Ravensmere. When the hoof beats of the horses sounded down the road the children became excited. It would be a long ride, but perhaps they might take a nap on the way. There would be much of interest for them to see, and if time permitted, a trip to the National Museum of History.

  “I’ve never been to this shop. I wonder why. You seem to favor it, and we do have the same tastes.” The Duchess looked off into the countryside.

  “Perhaps it is because you don’t come to London often since your children keep you occupied.” Cassandra laughed. “I’ve made an arrangement with the proprietress to design gowns with my special label and to promote them, for a small fee. This was before I was to marry the duke. I never thought he would accept the proposal after his anger the first time it was presented to him.”

  It wasn’t long before two children became lulled by the cadence of the horse hooves and heads leaned on their laps. The two women smiled at the familial act.

  “I would be happy to have you purchase one of my most scandalous chemises you can wear for your handsome straitlaced husband whom I adore.”

  “By the way, cousin, dear. My duke is adventuresome to say the least.” The Duchess squealed in delight. “I hoped you would offer one. What is the secret?”

  “Well, I will extract a suitable recompense for it and you must promise not to tell anyone.”

  “I promise,” Samantha said. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Well, not maybe that dramatic.”

  Cassandra thought it good to laugh, joke, and enjoy a risqué moment with a beloved cousin. “Water,” she said. “Water.”

  “What does water have to do with it?” Her cousin’s green eyes were jewels of the Nile.

  Cassandra smiled wickedly and whispered the secret in her cousin’s ear.

  “Where on earth did you come up with the idea?” she asked in wonder.

  “As you know, I have a vivid imagination. I tried it on a few times and by accident I spilled water on myself and thereby hangs a tale, especially if there is an anxious man next to you with an ardent desire to assist. I didn’t experiment with the latter part, but it gave me a thought.”

  “You are delightfully wicked. Does your duke know how fortunate he is to have snared you?” Her voice was in serious merriment.

  “No. I am merely a caregiver, but that was the bargain,” Cassandra said, a soft sad smile shone in her kitten-like expression.

  “No, dearest. You and I must talk out of earshot of the children. I attracted the most revered and attractive man of the century. He wasn’t sure he wanted me, either, but I knew I wanted him. It is all a matter of Yes, No, Maybe, and Perhaps.”

  Samantha’s face displayed a wicked countenance. “Just remember whatever happens, we are here for you. There are times in life when you have to fight for what you want with every weapon you possess. Your strength is an asset, my dear Cassandra. Don’t treat it as a weakness. Most of all, remember you are a woman to be appreciated in every aspect. And your body would tempt a saint. Men adore temptresses.”

  “I’m not a temptress, Samantha. I wish I could be.”

  “For the right man, you will, my dear. Follow your heart…wear your own lingerie designs and you’ll see all will go well.”

  They laughed contently.

  When they arrived at the Bond Street shop, they were assisted out of the carriage; the children seemed grateful to depart. They took in the busy fashionable people who window-shopped and mulled the walks.

  Madame Lisande greeted them with warmth and escorted them into a room reserved for their use. “Mon Dieu, what beautiful children,” she gushed over them. They saw the lemonade and meringue cookies set on the table and giggled.

  The afternoon was a marvel of selecting their gowns and the children’s ensembles. There were fittings for the four, laughter, and a celebratory sense of family. After the accounts were paid, the proprietress agreed to have the garments delivered by messenger within three days. She guaranteed the fashions would fit properly.

  The cousins and children departed the fitting rooms and were in the foyer of the shop when a loud female voice spoke to one of the attendants. The woman was a beautiful dark haired lady, well dressed and well spoken. In short, her air was elegant and commanded.

  “Madame Fayton, the ring on your finger is large and creates attention. I’ve not seen you wear it before,” the proprietress said.

  She preened and held her hand to the light for all to see. “Yes, it was a gift from a gentleman friend whom I seek to serve in a position.” The intent was clear. There might be an attachment or an offer of a position of mistress, her banter inferred a great deal.

  “Do we know the fortunate man?” asked one of the seamstresses.

  “I do not know, but I can say he is a duke of great renown. He and I atten
ded a ball the other night. Afterwards, we went to my home. He left it on the bedside table for me.” Her hand fondled the buttons on her glove. “The Duke of Althorn has fine taste in baubles—and women.” She looked around and a Cheshire grin crossed her face.

  Madame Lisande interrupted the conversation, “Oui, Madame. Though from what I’ve read, he is to be married next week.”

  “Wives are no concern to me. I offer what a wife does not. The only difference is her diamond comes with a tiara.” She laughed and walked to touch glittery bolts of fabrics.

  Cassandra inhaled and her hand clutched her throat.

  “This chemise the Tattler Tales gloats about, is it available? I would like to order one.”

  Madame Lisande’s soft voice stated, “No. Each order is personally reviewed by the designer. It is a custom piece. There isn’t enough fabric in stock.”

  “I expect you to get me one, Madame. I am one of your best clients,” she huffed.

  Cassandra stopped as if shot with a lethal arrow. How could this be? Was Althorn spending all his time with this woman prior to their wedding? Was she the reason he hadn’t spent time with her? Her teeth worried her lips. Her hand gripped her reticule as if it were a weapon. She wanted to scratch Madame Fayton’s eyes out. She wouldn’t look so beautiful then.

  Yanked out of her thoughts, Samantha took her by the arm and spoke in her sophisticated manner, “Come, Cassandra. We are to take the children for a marvelous lunch at the Museum. My husband has loaned a painting to display.” She propelled her cousin out the door, and with a wave of her hand, said “Adieu, ladies.”

  The children smiled and waved, too, and took hold of their hands.

  The liveried footman helped them into their carriage and everyone settled in for the ride.

  “Samantha, I didn’t know what to do. Is she Althorn’s mistress or soon to-be courtesan? I now know what it is to be eviscerated, drawn, quartered, and burnt at the stake.” Her thoughts clouded her bowed head.