Andrea Kane (20 page)

Charles nodded his agreement. “Then what course is open to you?”

“I must wait for her to come to me.”

“I see. You are protecting Kassandra’s feelings.”

Charles didn’t add that in his opinion, it was not only Kassie’s feelings, Kassie’s wounds that were at stake here, but Braden’s as well. Charles was convinced that somewhere deep inside of him Braden was aware of his own powerful feelings for his wife—feelings he would prefer not to acknowledge nor to accept. He would fight this ultimate emotional commitment with every self-protective fiber of his being.

“Then there is the problem of Robert Grey,” Braden continued, gazing out the window.

Charles’s expression hardened. “Kassandra said that he hadn’t returned since the day after the wedding.”

Braden nodded. “I know. But my instincts tell me that we have not seen the last of that bastard. I am also convinced that he is in some way responsible for the recurring nightmare that torments Kassie.”

“She has not told you any of the details of her dream?”

Braden shook his head. “Not yet. However, that is one problem that I plan to resolve immediately. Tonight my wife and I are going to have a long talk, after which I will know exactly what it is that terrorizes her. Then I can attempt to resolve it.” His jaw tightened. “And God help Robert Grey if he is involved.”

Charles put his hand on Braden’s arm. “You don’t know that Grey has any connection to Kassandra’s dreams.”

Braden turned blazing eyes to his friend. “Do you doubt that Grey is capable of any number of things when he is foxed?”

Charles paled. “No.”

“Nor do I. And if he hurt Kassie in any way, I will kill him.”

The carriage came to a stop. Two liveried footmen hastened to assist the duke from his coach. The front doors of the house were thrown open immediately, and an efficient Perkins appeared in the entranceway.

“Welcome home, Your Grace.”

Braden nodded. “Thank you, Perkins. Where is my wife?”

Charles had to stifle a smile at the rapidly fired question.

Perkins blinked. “Why, I believe she went for a ri—walk in the gardens,” he corrected himself. Her Grace had made it quite clear that she wanted her new knowledge of riding to be a surprise for her husband. She was doing remarkably well, Dobson had reported, despite her mishap with Star earlier in the week. And Perkins had no intention of doing anything to erase the sparkle from the duchess’s eyes.

“Is she out walking alone, Perkins?”

“Why, yes, Your Grace. I believe she mentioned that she wanted some time to herself.”

Braden turned, squinting, and scanned the gardens.

“I don’t see her, Perkins.”

“The gardens on the south side of the estate, Your Grace,” Perkins quickly amended.

“There are no gardens on the south side of the estate, Perkins,” Braden replied impatiently.

“Did I say the gardens? I meant the grounds.”

“The grounds,” Braden repeated. “Perkins, you said she wanted to be alone.”

Perkins swallowed. “Why, she did, Your Grace.”

Braden’s body tensed. “The south side of the estate is where all my tenants’ cottages are located, Perkins. That is hardly the place to go for privacy.”

“Perhaps I misunderstood.” Beads of perspiration broke out on the poor butler’s forehead. “Perhaps it was the
north
side of the estate.”

Fear clutched at Braden’s heart. “Are you keeping something from me, Perkins?”

Pulling himself up to his full height, Perkins fairly bristled at the insult to his integrity. “Certainly not, Your Grace. I am merely trying to recall—”

“Where is she, Perkins?” Braden ground out, his control snapping.

“There she is, Braden,” Charles broke in, pointing.

Both Braden and Perkins sagged with relief at the sight of Kassie strolling toward the house. Unaware that her husband had returned, she was lost in thought, still exhilarated by her ride on Little Lady, who was today as good as new.

Braden watched Kassie approach and felt a rush of warmth flow through him. Her elegant riding clothes fit her lush little body to perfection; her rich black hair was tied with a matching ribbon and hung in shining curls down her back. To his surprise, Braden felt a pang of sadness. Gone was the spontaneous young woman she had been. Before him, was a true duchess.

At that moment Kassie saw him.

“Braden!”

She screamed his name, instantly and indelicately lifted her skirts high above her ankles, and fairly flew to where her husband stood. She didn’t hesitate but launched herself against him, flinging her arms about his neck and nearly catapulting them both to the ground with her enthusiastic welcome.

Five footmen and three gardeners gaped at the unheard-of display.

Characteristically, Charles grinned.

Uncharacteristically, so did Perkins.

Braden laughed out loud, wrapping his arms about his wife and steadying them both on their feet.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Does this mean that you’re glad to see me?”

Kassie flushed, becoming aware of the number of eyes focused on her. “Braden,” she began.

“I missed you, too,” he told her gently, lowering her to the ground. And he had—more than he’d realized. He stared down into her beautiful face, frowning when he saw the dark circles beneath her eyes and the pale cast to her skin. “Are you all right?”

She nodded vigorously. “Just fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

Braden studied her face a moment longer, seeing far more than she wished him to see. Then his gaze moved lower, and a perplexed look crossed his handsome features. “Were you at the stables?” he asked, noting her riding clothes for the first time.

“W-well,” she stammered.

“Braden, Charles. Welcome home.” Cyril stood on the front stairs, unknowingly rescuing Kassie from her dilemma. Not waiting for a response, he added thoughtfully, “It is good that you have returned.”

“I agree.” Braden gave Kassie one of his lazy grins that made her bones melt.

“Before you see to your unpacking,” Cyril continued quickly, “I wonder if I might have a word with you.”

Braden reacted to his uncle’s serious tone and troubled expression. “Of course.” He watched Cyril’s retreat thoughtfully, then, with mounting unease, turned back to his wife. “I won’t be long.”

“Braden?” She stayed him with her hand. “After you have spoken with Cyril, I wonder if you would do something for me.”

He saw the sparkle of excitement in her eyes—another hint of the old Kassie—and he relaxed a bit. “Anything.” His answer was emphatic.

“Change into your riding clothes and meet me at the stables.”

His puzzled look returned. “Now? Why? Is there something—”

“Please,” she interrupted. “For me. Just do it.” She waited, her expression questioning.

Charles cleared his throat loudly. Kassie glanced over at him, and Braden had a brief glimpse of the dimples in Kassie’s cheeks. Then they were gone, and she was serious again.

Braden shot Charles a suspicious look, but the older man was intently contemplating the leaves on the nearby oak trees.

“Kassandra, what are you up to?” Braden’s tone was stern, but his hazel eyes twinkled. When she didn’t respond he caught her chin in his hand, trying to read her expression. She kept it carefully blank. “Very well,” he sighed at last. “I see the only way I shall find out what I want to know is to do as you ask. I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. “Thank you.” She stepped away. “Now hurry! I shall expect you shortly.” She scurried off.

Charles headed for the house.

“You know something,” Braden accused.

“I suspect something,” Charles corrected. “And if what I suspect is true, you have a delightful surprise ahead of you.” To avoid explaining further, Charles disappeared through the entranceway door.

Amused and curious, Braden strode into the house and headed toward the library. The sooner he had this discussion with Cyril, the sooner he would be privy to Kassie’s little secret.

The dark look on Cyril’s face made Braden’s light humor disintegrate.

“What is the problem, Cyril?” He closed the door behind him.

Cyril rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’m not certain. But I have the distinct feeling that Kassandra is having a difficult time adjusting to her new life.”

Braden frowned. “That is neither a problem nor a shock, Cyril. It’s been less than a month since we married, and the change is a dramatic one for Kassie.”

“She is unused to our ways and our priorities.”

Braden wanted to point out that his priorities and Cyril’s were vastly different and that he had no desire for Kassie to emulate the latter, but he held his tongue. “What exactly are you referring to?” he asked, sensing that Cyril had something specific on his mind.

“She has been having trouble sleeping,” Cyril told him.

Braden started. “How do you know this?”

“I saw Margaret, Kassandra’s lady’s maid, coming from your wife’s bedchamber in the middle of the night. I asked her if there was a problem, and she implied that Kassandra was unable to sleep.”

The nightmares,
Braden thought.

“Also,” Cyril was continuing, “Kassandra had occasion to meet”—he hesitated—“some of our friends.”

The pause was not lost to Braden. “Oh, really? Which
friends
in particular?”

Cyril swallowed, knowing what was coming. “William and Abigail stopped by to see you, and—”

“You allowed Kassie to be alone with that bitch!” Braden exploded.

“They were not alone,” Cyril cut into the oncoming tirade. “I was present, as was William. Nothing inappropriate was said.”

“Oh, I’m sure Abigail was her usual charming self.” Braden’s voice was laced with sarcasm, his heart sinking as he pictured the scene that must have occurred. Kassie’s trusting gentleness was no match for Abigail’s acid tongue.

“Kassandra did seem a bit unsettled after they left.” Cyril saw no point in lying. Kassandra would only tell Braden the truth herself. And besides, the fact that Braden’s wife had been unprepared for her earlier encounter would only work to Cyril’s advantage.

“Unsettled?” Braden repeated slowly.

“Yes. Unsettled.” Cyril walked over to where Braden stood. “She must learn to deal with women such as Abigail if she wants to survive in our world, Braden. As you know, Abigail is far from unique.”

Braden gave a hollow laugh. “How true.”

Cyril nodded. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you host a house party? Nothing too elaborate, just the most influential members of the
ton
.”

“That should limit it to a mere four or five hundred,” Braden interjected dryly.

Cyril ignored the comment. “Kassandra is going to have to meet these people at some point, Braden. You cannot keep her locked up at Sherburgh, isolated, forever. This way she can meet them under
your
roof and with you at her side.” He paused, trying to gauge Braden’s reaction. “I believe that it would help to ease her way.” Sensing victory, Cyril delivered what he knew would be his most convincing argument. “Besides, did it ever occur to you that your wife is lonely for the company of other women? Surely from a crowd of many there will be one or two ladies that will suit her needs. After all, she is surrounded by nothing but men here at Sherburgh, with only her lady’s maid to provide her with companionship. Kassandra is a warm and caring young woman who has been shut off from the world her whole life. You must think of her happiness, Braden, and stop being so protective of her. Why, this could be the best, the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her—save marrying you, of course.”

He took a deep breath and waited.

Braden stared at the floor. Although he was puzzled by Cyril’s uncharacteristic concern, he could not deny that a great deal of what his uncle said was true. Maybe he
was
being unfair to Kassie. Maybe she
did
crave female companionship. And it was also true that she would have to appear by his side at social functions eventually. Why not begin now, when she was in familiar, and therefore less intimidating, surroundings?

Braden raised his head and gave Cyril a decisive nod. “I do see your point, Cyril. I shall give it some thought and discuss it with Kassie.” He opened the door. “Speaking of which, I promised to meet her at the stables as soon as I could.”

“Of course.”

Braden paused. “Thank you for your sound advice, Cyril. I hope the suggestion will work.”

“Oh, it will work, Braden,” Cyril assured him with an agreeable smile. “Of that I am certain.”

Braden hurried to his bedchamber and changed into riding clothes. Before leaving the house he went into Kassie’s room in search of Margaret. Sure enough, the plump woman was readying her mistress’s change of clothes for dinner.

“Margaret?” Braden strode into the room in his customary commanding manner.

“Your Grace! You have returned!”

The older woman’s enthusiasm made Braden smile.

Margaret sighed with relief. “Now all will be well.”

Braden’s smile faded. “Why do you say that, Margaret? Is it Kassie? Is something wrong?”

She noted the tight lines of concern about the duke’s mouth. Whatever was going on between these two foolish young people, Margaret was sure of one thing: the Duke of Sherburgh cared for his new wife. Reassured of that fact, she nodded.

“Yes, Your Grace, I’m afraid there is something amiss.” She scurried over to the door and checked to see that the hall was empty. It was. She turned back to Braden. “The duchess has been having … great difficulty sleeping.”

“Is it the nightmares?” Braden minced no words.

“Yes, it is. They’ve grown more frequent during your absence, and more severe as well.” She frowned. “I worry about Her Grace terribly. She is not eating, so she is losing weight, and she is pale and exhausted.”

“Has she told you any details of the dream?” Braden demanded.

“None.”

“Damn it,” Braden swore softly, a muscle tightening in his jaw. Margaret did not flinch but awaited his next words.

“Thank you, Margaret,” Braden said quietly. “I’ll take over from here.”