Read [Barbara Samuel] Night of Fire(Book4You) Online
Authors: Unknown
Pleased, she said, "That we can do."
Cassandra slept deeply and without dreams, as if she had not slept in months. When she awakened, it was to full midday sun flooding her chamber. She blinked in surprise. The scent of roses reached her, and she spied the spray of flowers on the pillow just as a knock sounded at her door.
Startled, Cassandra realized a first knock must have wakened her. "Go away!" she called, unwilling to drag herself completely into the world just yet.
The door burst open. "I've traveled a grueling number of miles, and I will not go away."
Cassandra scrambled for her covers, as her sister Adriana sailed in the room, statuesque and buxom.
"Riana!" she cried, half-mortified, half-joyful. The joy won out and she reached one arm toward her sister, keeping herself covered with the other.
Riana embraced her, then lifted an eyebrow. "Naked, are you? And your lover has just departed through the doors?" She made a show of going to the window to peek out. "Must be quite a dashing fellow."
She
was
naked, much to her shame. Overheated and burning with longing for Basilio, she had tossed off her nightrail and slept nude, as she had with him, feeling a delicious sense of wickedness and freedom in the act.
"No lover," she said.
Adriana turned. "Yes, you have." She inclined her head. "I've never seen you look so beautiful, Cassandra. Whoever he is, I like what he's done for you."
A wave of emotion seized Cassandra, and to her horror, she felt as if she might weep and spill everything to her sister. With an act of will, she lowered her eyes and lifted one brow artfully, pressing her thumb into a thorn.
"Not talking, as usual, I see," Adriana said, and there was warmth in her voice. "I'll send your maid and you must come have breakfast. I only have the day."
"What are you doing here?"
Adriana's smile faded. "I've come to take Phoebe with me to Ireland for a little visit. Julian wrote; he's concerned about her."
"I see." She must be very selfish indeed, if she had not realized Phoebe was not doing well. Just younger than Cassandra, Phoebe had taken a fall from a horse a little more than a year ago, and although she'd spent a long time in bed healing a broken leg, Cassandra thought she'd been back to her normal routines for some time now. "Julian said nothing to me." She plucked the coverlet. "I suppose I have not given him an opportunity."
"You mustn't feel guilty," Adriana said. She sailed across the room and settled on the edge of the bed.
"Phoebe would not like your life in London, as you know well. Julian only thought of me because Phoebe will love it there so much. You know she will."
Cassandra frowned. "But if she is as stiff as she was the last time I saw her, she won't like the travel at all."
"No, I expect she'll protest." A secret little smile. "Until I tell her there's a baby on the way."
"A baby!" Cassandra cried. "When?"
Riana cast off her cloak, turning sideways to show off the mound of her belly. "I'm very clever at disguising it, but it won't be long. Fall, I expect."
Cassandra laughed and, grasping the coverlet about her body, jumped up to hug her. "Oh, how utterly wonderful, Adriana! I'm sure your husband is beside himself with glee." She suddenly remembered that Tynan had been a twin. "Oh, God! What if you have twins?"
Riana waved a hand. "What will be will be." She laughed and touched Cassandra's bare shoulder. "Now stop scandalizing me"—a wicked lift of her brow, since Adriana had caused enough scandal for ten women—"and come downstairs."
"All right."
When Adriana had left her, Cassandra stood in the middle of the room, wrapped only in the coverlet.
Sunlight poured in on her from the glass doors, and she remembered another morning, in Basilio's chamber, high in the villa.
She closed her eyes and let the coverlet drop to the floor. Sunlight bathed her naked body and she remembered the love that had poured over her, through her, from her. Last night's single kiss had left the smell of him on her hands, her body, and she did not want to wash it away. Yet it was beyond wickedness not to. It had been wrong to kiss him, and she was shamed this morning at her lack of control. She pinned up her hair, put on her clothes, and left the secret of Basilio carefully in her chamber, where no one could disturb it.
She would not see him again.
The situation was clearly impossible and wrong, and would tear them both to shreds if it was not ended.
Perhaps she could go to Ireland with her sisters for a little while, or spend a few weeks at Brighton. Julian had said that running would make her run forever, but the truth was, she had no will to resist Basilio, and no wish to betray Analise. Even the thought of the sweet, earnest child gave her a pang.
She closed her eyes, a hand over her heart.
What a coil! If she were the sort of woman who prayed, she would have asked forgiveness for her weakness the night before, for not being able to make him leave her.
She would depart London this very day, but before she left, she intended to make one thing right. She would teach Analise how to love a man. No, not a man—to love Basilio. Analise was beautiful and kind, and in time, Basilio would forget the headiness of what had transpired during the season they had shared, but it would make Cassandra happy to know he was being well-tended by his wife.
She arranged her face to hide her heart, and went downstairs to join her sister and celebrate the happy news.
Word was sent around to Julian and Gabriel, who joined Cassandra and Adriana for tea in mid-afternoon. The day was mild and sunny, the sky as blue as a length of silk. A white wrought-iron table was set on the lawn. Overhead birds sang cheerfully and bees whirred, and Cassandra discovered that she was quite content, in a sleepy, almost lazy way, to admire the world and everything in it, especially her beautiful siblings.
Julian, his fair good looks given an air of mystery by that air of haunted tragedy lurking behind the gray eyes; Adriana, as blond and radiant as a painting; Gabriel so rakishly dashing with his lush hair and caramel complexion, the green eyes catching color from his emerald green coat.
Cassandra sipped her tea and thought of standing with Basilio on the beach in Italy, water washing over her toes as she told him of her siblings.
Then she thought of the long hours they had spent talking, talking, talking. She missed that now—the long, rambling conversations they'd had. She thought of him crying out in mock outrage as they discussed a particular work of literature, disagreeing exuberantly with her as they ate olives and grapes beneath a soft, star-studded sky.
"Ah, look at her," Adriana said. "Do you think our sister is in love?"
Cassandra looked up, aware suddenly that she had been drifting in memory with a soft smile on her face.
She straightened and rolled her eyes. "Don't be absurd. I'm not the type."
Gabriel laughed and leaned close to Adriana. "Do you know she arrived at my door at the crack of dawn one day, demanding a book of poetry?"
Cassandra felt heat at the top of her ears and hoped they were not as red as she suspected. "It was hardly the crack of dawn. It was past ten!"
"Poems?" Adriana said. "What poems?"
Cassandra took the offensive. "Basilio de Montevarchi," she said. "An Italian count. He's quite the rage at the moment." She avoided their eyes by plucking a thread off her skirt. "Quite beautiful work, really. I heard him read at Court yesterday."
Only then did she spare a glance at Julian. He gave her the barest nod of encouragement. "I've read them, as well. You'd like them, Riana— they're very much the sort of thing you've always swooned over."
But Riana knew too much. Her eyes brightened. "Is it the same poet you visited in Italy, Cassandra?"
She raised her chin coolly. "Yes. Which is why I was so eager to have a copy of his book when I heard it had been published."
Gabriel leaned back, his hands steepled in front of his mouth. Cassandra was not at all sure if Julian or Adriana had read the travel essays, but she knew Gabriel had. He'd complimented her on it. Now speculation lit his eyes.
Damn. Julian knew, because he'd been with her at the opera when she fell apart.
And this morning Adriana had caught her naked, and though she'd not had her lover there, Adriana would certainly not be convinced of that.
She narrowed her eyes. "Do not," she said. "Do not spin little plays in your head about my life. I will not tolerate it."
Gabriel winked and Adriana chuckled. Only Julian seemed to hear the panic in her voice.
Smoothly, he leaned forward to pluck a tiny sandwich from the plate. "On another subject, Cassandra has been urging me to bring the girls to Court in the fall. What do you think, Riana? Is it time?"
Adriana let herself be distracted. "More than, I'd say."
"Tell him how much work there is to this, Riana. He will not listen to me."
"I have been enquiring," he said. "We will begin next month, I suppose."
"What, exactly," Gabriel said with deceptive laziness, "do you intend to do with Cleo? They cannot be presented as equals, and she will be wounded."
"I have been giving that some thought," Cassandra said. "I believe we shall find her a good husband in your set, brother dear. We'll bring them to my salon, and she will find men of color and good standing there."
"I don't think this is going to be as smooth as you think," he said, and a rare flash of anger tightened his lips. "She has been coddled and treated like a princess her entire life. She'll not easily settle for a tradesman when Ophelia marries a duke or an earl."
"Surely there is someone more suitable than a tradesman," Cassandra protested. "A scholar or a vicar."
Gabriel looked at her. "Cleo, a vicar's wife?"
"Well, perhaps not." She was a vain, pretty thing, with a taste for clothes. "Then guide us, Gabriel. What shall we do?"
"I don't know," he said, and stood, his back to all of them. "I cannot curse our father for his goodness, but it would have been better if Cleo had been prepared for the life she truly will lead."
Adriana sighed. "We've all known this day would come. Your mother will guide her; Monique is not a fool. We shall heed her advice." She settled her cup. "At any rate, it cannot be avoided. They must find husbands and 'tis better to do it now."
Gabriel nodded, but his mouth still held grim-ness. "This has been a worry in my heart since our return.
I'd not wish on her my own discoveries."
Julian rose. "She has us all, Gabriel. And you." He gestured toward the house. "If we are to arrive at Hartwood Hall before dark, we must be on our way. Are you coming, Cassandra?"
"Not today," she said. "I'll ride down in the morning. There is some business I must attend this evening."
He nodded. As he passed, he put his hand briefly on her shoulder in understanding and strength.
Cassandra touched his fingers, just as briefly, in gratitude.
It was not a lie. She did have business. At supper, she donned a dark blue silk cloak that cov-ered her hair, and walked to the address she had gleaned from an acquaintance.
Standing across the street in the shadow of a doorway, she waited patiently until Basilio emerged and climbed into a waiting carriage. After the vehicle was out of sight she moved briskly, tossing off her hood as she crossed the busy thoroughfare.
A servant in red livery opened the door to her. "Good evening," Cassandra said, "I am the Lady Cassandra St. Ives, and I've come to call on the Countess."
He let her into the house, which smelled of oranges and a spice she didn't recognize, and into a small parlor fussily decorated in the Chinese fashion. "Wait here," he said. "I'll see."
As she had expected, it was Analise herself who entered, her face showing her eagerness. "Lady Cassandra!" she cried, coming forward to kiss her on both cheeks. "I am so happy to see you! Would you like some wine, some food? Please, come into the garden."
Until now, Cassandra had managed to keep her guilt and love carefully separated. But now even allowing herself to love Basilio seemed monstrous. Dressed tonight in a modest gown made of gray silk, her hair tucked under her cap, the girl was so painfully young and eager that Cassandra's heart wanted to break.