One True Love (21 page)

Why did this have to be so damned complicated?

He started to quit the room and head upstairs when the door opened.

"William?"

His lovely wife entered the room. She had changed into a simpler gown of dove gray muslin. Her hair fell down past her shoulders to her waist.
Air.
He needed air.

"Are you feeling better?" he choked out.

"Yes.
No.
I would like to talk to you." She squared her shoulders with the determination of a soldier preparing for battle. He wondered what they were about to battle over.

He motioned for her to sit. "Would you like a glass of sherry?"

She hesitated, "Yes, please."

He poured her a glass and handed it to her, then sat in the chair across from her.
Distance.
If he sat too close, he might be tempted to do something before she could say what was on her mind.

"Are you unhappy?" blurted Cassie.

Stunned, he did not say anything, but he sat up straighter, leaned forward, and creased his brow. Such an odd question.

"Are you unhappy?" he asked.

"I asked first," she said.

"What brought this on, Cassie?"

"Just answer the question." She held her hands together until her knuckles turned white.

He moved from his chair to the settee where she sat. Then he took her glass from her, sat it on the table, and turned to face her. The sadness in her eyes was more than he could stand. He lifted her chin and kissed her sweet mouth. "Does this feel unhappy?"

She pushed against his chest which startled him. Her eyes were closed tight for a moment, and then she opened them. "I am not talking about...this..." She waved her hand at him.

"What? This?" He kissed her again. This time he captured her head with his hands and took her mouth with more pressure, and willed her to open to him. She bit down on his lip.

"Ow! What the hell did you do that for?"

She stood abruptly and paced the room. "It is what you deserve. I am trying to talk to you.
Talk
."

"Talk, then. Do go on."

She stopped and turned to face him. "Do not scowl at me. I simply want to have a conversation. Is that too much to ask? A conversation without your hands all over me."

He threw up his hands in exasperation.
Damnation!
What did the woman want from him?

"I am sorry. Please, sit back down. I promise to keep my hands to myself."

"I will stand." She crossed her arms over her chest. Her bosom rose and fell like the crest of waves.

How could he listen to her
talk
when he could not take his eyes off of her breasts?

"I do not want you in my bed at night if you are going to ignore me during the day."

He became as still as stone. She did not want him in her bed? A man is better off a bachelor for life than to live his life in a cold marriage bed. And what about children? Surely she wanted children. How long had he known her? A few weeks. Not long at all. He never asked her if she wanted children. He just assumed.

Cassie reacted to him, so warm and passionate and giving. She could not have faked it. Did she close her eyes and pretend he was Parker?
Damn her. Damn Parker.

He grasped her by her shoulders. "You are my wife. You will do your duty."

"Of course. I just wanted..."

Did he see fear on her face? He had never done anything to cause her to fear him. Her eyes welled with tears. God, she was going to cry. If she cried, he would be lost.

"What? You want Parker? Is that what you want? Then you should have married the bastard!" He let go of her shoulders, perhaps a bit too hard. A sob tore from her chest, but he ignored it. If she wanted to cry over Miles Parker, then let her. He was not going to stand around and listen to it. He left the room, left the house, left her.

***

Cassie fought to control her emotions. Sobs threatened to take over. Her interview with her husband did not go well. Why did William think she wanted Mr. Parker?
I do not want you in my bed at night if you are going to ignore me during the day
.

"Poor choice of words," she said aloud. William latched onto the first half of what she said, and never heard what she meant. She wanted him to talk to her, to spend time with her, to be as they were on that first day of their marriage –one precious day before Mr. Parker showed up and spoiled everything.

What was she to do? She wanted to have a civilized conversation with her husband to discuss how they might get along. If they aired their feelings, then surely she could figure out how to make him happy. Instead, she only managed to anger him. She should have practiced her speech first. What a mess she made of things!

She picked up her glass of sherry and downed the contents. She tucked her legs beneath her, leaned back against the pillows on the settee and closed her eyes. She wished she could go away to sort out her feelings of all of the insane change of events over the past couple of weeks. It was too much, too fast. She needed time to think.

Scott tapped on the open door and entered the room. "You have a visitor, my lady."

Who could possibly want to see her? She knew no one in London except for William's family, and she just came from Camberley House a couple of hours ago. She did not want to see or talk to anyone. Perhaps Scott could tell this person she was in bed with a headache.

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Parker, my lady."

Could this day get any worse? She did not want to see Mr. Parker. She could not
handle
seeing Mr. Parker. Her emotions were too raw, too close to coming undone.

"Tell him..."

"Good day, Cassandra." Mr. Parker did not wait to be announced. He pushed his way around Scott. "If we could be left alone?"

Mr. Parker was dressed in black breeches and a black coat. Odd. She had never seen him in anything but bright colors. He looked so dashing and handsome it squeezed something inside her heart. She tried to push away the feeling, but realized she could not shut off her emotions. She pressed her lips together in a hard line. Her feelings for Mr. Parker were no longer relevant while her feelings for William were
confused.

Scott looked at her for confirmation. Resigned to this interview, she nodded to the butler who left the door open when he quit the room.

She stood. "Mr. Parker."

"I have news," he said.

"Oh."

"My uncle cocked up his toes this morning." He screwed his lips as if he were trying to force away an inappropriate smile.

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Parker."

"No need to be sorry. He was a crabby old man who made everyone around him miserable. I am Viscount Winnington now." He came over to her and took her hands. "If only fate would have been more kind. Just a few more days and we would have married, Cassandra."

She pulled her hands from his and turned her back. "It is too late for us. I am married now, Mr. Parker,
Lord Winnington
. I am sorry to hear about your uncle, but it does not change things for us. I think it would be best if you go now."

He placed his hands on her shoulders. She tensed. His hands no longer held the warmth they once did. Coldness flowed through the fabric of her dress to her skin. "Divorce him Cassandra. We can be together now. My name will protect us."

She whipped around to face him. "Are you mad? We would be cast out of Society. Beyond ruined. Beyond disgraced. Our trip to Gretna Green would be nothing compared to a divorce."

"I do not care about Society. I care about you. I love you, Cassandra. We were meant to be together."

He attempted to pull her into an embrace, but she resisted. She wiped away an escaped tear. "No. We are not."

She stiffened her spine and raised her chin, then met his eyes directly. She refused to allow him to make things worse for either of them. What was done was done. She wanted him gone. "Please leave."

"I see. I am sorry for bothering you." He bowed, turned, and left.

Tears fell like a rushing river after a storm. She escaped to her room and locked herself in for the rest of the day.

Chapter Twelve

A week later, Cassie entered the dining room dressed in a maroon riding outfit. She thought the color darkened her green eyes, which gave them a smoky, exotic look. She pinched her cheeks for color, but her face still looked pale, so she indulged in a touch of rouge to give her complexion a glow.

Since their argument, William kept away during the day and at night. Not once had he come to her bed. He left the house early and came home late. She filled her own days with correspondence, shopping with Anne, and attending a few of the smaller engagements with the Prescott girls.

So far, nothing had turned out as it should. Her husband avoided her, and with the exception of Anne, the Prescotts behaved chilly towards her. They were polite, yet standoffish. She wanted to ask Anne what she did wrong, but she did not dare bring up the subject. She did not want to drive a wedge between her only friend and the Prescott family. She found herself missing her quiet home, even her stoic father. Boring as it all seemed, it was much better than the clawing loneliness she experienced now.

Today the entire family would be attending the derby. She hoped William would not forget her, or leave her behind. She had seen so little of him in the past few days, and then only in passing. He barely spoke to her. She did not have any idea what to expect.

The dining room was empty.

Just like the hollowed out shell of her heart.

Disappointment pricked her skin like a thousand needles, and she pressed her lips to keep from crying. How could a marriage work if two people never saw each other? She fixed herself a plate, sat down, and stabbed her eggs with her fork. He was such a spoiled child. A few moments of his precious time was all she asked for. First, he does not listen to her, then he bellows at her and stomps out of the room, and now he spends his days ignoring her.

She wanted to throw something. Hit something. Scream. William should be ready and waiting to go to the derby. He told his family they would be there. But alas, he had not come to breakfast all week. Or luncheon. Or dinner. Her fork clashed against the china.

"Are you trying to break the dishes?"

Her head snapped upward as her dropped fork clattered against the plate.
William.
The air escaped from her lungs. He was handsome in his riding attire, so much so, she felt her heart squeeze, and her skin tingle in anticipation of his touch. If only he would touch her.

"I see you have decided to come out of hiding and grace me with your presence," she snarled.

His face hardened. Their stares battled before he finally broke and walked over to the buffet. "I am sorry if I have neglected you. I have had a great deal of business to attend to."

"I see." Except that she did not see. What business could keep him both day and night?

"I understand your Mr. Parker called on you the other day," he said.

Did she detect a sneer in his voice? Could he be jealous? No, she doubted that. "Why did you marry me?"

"Because I wanted you."

"In your bed."

"In my life."

For a man who wanted her in his life, he certainly did not act like it. Nor did he take advantage of it. He took a bite of toast and snapped open the morning paper. So that was how it was going to be. Ignored.
Again.

She wanted to snatch the paper out of his hand. "Mr. Parker came to tell me that Lord Winnington passed away."