Patricia Rice (31 page)

Cassandra ran down to join him just as their guests arrived.
She looked stunning in the shimmering pale green lutestring gown he had ordered
for her. With her hair pulled severely back, she looked older, more mature, and
not in the least rattled from the haste with which she must have dressed.

The glance she sent him was still cold, but strangely
enough, Wyatt felt warm inside. Had any other woman looked at him like that, he
would have shied away from her company forevermore. With Cassandra, he was
confident the spat would be settled in his bed a few hours hence. He had to
turn his concentration on his guests and away from his “wife” to cool his
stirring ardor.

The dowager did not come down to dinner. When Wyatt
whispered a question in Cassandra’s ear, she answered blithely, “She has locked
herself in her room and refused to emerge. Shall I have dinner sent up to her?”

Wyatt shook his head and sought out the quiet, pleasant Mrs.
Scheffing. He could very well have made a major mistake in assuming Cassandra
could be tamed to polite society. Remembering the disastrous episodes of
Hampton Court, he would make certain not to suggest billiards after dinner.

Still, as he accepted congratulations on his marriage and
watched Cassandra charm the stout squire, Merrick felt the changes in himself.
He had only to recognize that the woman sitting in the place of honor as his
wife was actually his mistress, to realize he had come a long way from the
staid man he once had been.

Cassandra glanced up and caught his eye, and her worried frown
sent a sharp pang through his midsection. She had changed too. For all her
heedless ways, she had developed a conscience and a concern for others—most
others, he amended, his mother excluded.

Later that night, she entered his room without knocking, as
usual. Wyatt gave a nod and sent Jacob away. As he proceeded to remove his
waistcoat, Wyatt debated giving her the scold she deserved, but he couldn’t do
it. Her eyes seemed enormous in her pale face, and the clinging of her frail
nightrail to her slender figure reminded him of the child she carried, a child
she hadn’t wanted or asked for. He owed her much, and he lifted his arms in
welcome and held her to his chest when she came to him.

“Are you very angry with me?” she whispered against his
shirt.

“Very,” he agreed.

“Shall I go away and leave you alone?”

That question held echoes of the past and future, and Wyatt
crushed her tighter. “Never. I’m tired of being alone.”

She sighed. “So am I. Hold me, Wyatt, and don’t be angry
anymore. I can’t bear it.”

“No one could be angry with you for long, my sweet, most
especially me.” Gently Wyatt rode his hand down to the very small curve of her
abdomen. “How does Junior fare today? Does he still trouble you?”

“Only in that I have never had a stomach before.” She mocked
a small pout and looked up to him. “What will you do with me when I am fat and
ugly?”

“Make love to you,” he answered promptly, earning himself a
kick with bare toes. When he had her firmly in his hold again, he asked with
curiosity, “Did you think Christa fat and ugly?”

“Just fat.” Cassandra squirmed in his embrace. “She looked
awfully uncomfortable. How will I be able to ride when I get like that?”

Wyatt picked her up and threw her on the bed, falling down
beside her and holding her pinned when she tried to roll away. He gazed sternly
down into her flushed face. “You will not, my lady, so you might as well begin
practicing temperance now. No more wild gallops across the meadow like the one
today. Understood?”

Cassandra lifted a hand to stroke his hair. “The child is
important to you, isn’t it?”

He wanted to say, “Not as important as you,” but she owned
too much of him already. He would wait until he was certain his feelings were
returned. He spread his hand over the nearly invisible thickening of her waist.
“I want this child very much, Cassandra. I hope I have not asked too much of
you.”

“No more than you have asked of yourself, my lord.” She
pulled his head down to meet her kiss.

The warning that Rupert had returned from France came
unexpectedly a week later.

Wyatt had hoped to have the annulment papers signed before
Rupert discovered that he had not actually murdered Thomas.

He stared at the note in his hand, then crumpled and flung
it at the brass container beside his desk. His solicitors had assured him the
annulment could be effected without Rupert’s cooperation, but that meant Cass
filing the petition. He wasn’t at all certain he would receive any more
cooperation from her than from Rupert.

But the fact that Rupert had returned to London without
signing the papers meant he was prepared to fight for his wife. That did not
bode well at all.

Wyatt paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists.
He was not a coward, but there had been no room in his life for the idle
pursuits of other young gentlemen. While his peers were playing at fisticuffs
and fencing, he had been learning the operations of his estates here in Kent,
others in Sussex, and in the north. He had even inherited a small competence in
Scotland. Although he had good managers, they were only as good as the
supervision they received.

At the age of twelve, when he had come into his inheritance,
and even at twenty, when he had taken control of it, he had not had a minute to
spare beyond the supervision of these responsibilities. He could challenge
Rupert to a duel of adding figures or counting cows, but he greatly suspected
that wouldn’t settle the matter.

The thought of losing Cassandra and the child she carried to
that brutal bastard could not be borne. He would have to remove her somewhere
safe while he dealt with the problem. Perhaps now that she knew she carried a
child, she could be more easily persuaded to begin annulment proceedings.

But then he would have to tell her that Rupert was back, and
she might get another one of her notions to talk to him herself. She might take
it in her head to run away and hide, and this time he wouldn’t be so lucky as
to find her. He still didn’t know why she had left him last time. If it was
that nonsense about being a bastard, perhaps he had settled that fear, and she
would be all right. And then again, perhaps not. Who knew?

Wyatt heard the uproar in the downstairs hall as a distant
roar, but he ignored it. Cassandra was as easily capable of quelling a riot as
causing it. He seldom found it necessary to intervene. Even his mother had given
up any hope of his assistance. The running argument with Cassandra had become
part of the dowager’s routine. She certainly couldn’t complain of boredom any
longer.

Contemplating all the changes Cassandra had brought into his
life ever since she had plummeted into his arms those many months ago, Merrick
despaired at the thought of losing her. He couldn’t go back to deadly dull
dinners of discussing the length the grass should be allowed to grow in the
lawn. He couldn’t imagine climbing into his bed without Cassandra there warming
the sheets for him. Life without her laughter and song, or even her tempest and
fury, would not be a life at all.

So, somehow, he would have to learn to manage Cassandra and
her mismanaged life as well as he did his estate. Obtaining an annulment and
keeping Rupert at bay would be his first aim. He had used persuasion and brute
force without any luck. The next step was trickery.

That thought came to Wyatt like a lightning bolt. Of course!
Rupert and Duncan and their ilk swindled their way through life. Those were the
only terms they knew. So he would have to beat them on their own terms. He wasn’t
at all certain that he knew the rules, but if he tried to think like
Cassandra...

Jacob knocked at his open study door, and Wyatt glanced up
in surprise. The lanky ex-soldier knew his place and had never disturbed his
privacy. As a former servant of Rupert’s and a loyal supporter of Cassandra,
his credentials were open to question, but Wyatt had found his service
exemplary. He gestured for the man to enter.

“I wish to offer my resignation, my lord, effective
immediately.”

Surmising this had something to do with the uproar below,
Wyatt sat on the edge of his desk and eyed the stoic valet with impatience. “Might
I ask why?”

Jacob reddened around the ears. “Lotta and I work together,
my lord. That’s understood between us. If she is no longer welcome here, I must
go with her.”

“Cassandra dismissed Lotta?” Wyatt didn’t try to hide his
incredulity. The chit was like no lady’s maid he had ever known. Lotta was a
wanton piece of goods if he had ever seen one. But the bonds between maid and
mistress were strong.

“No, my lord. Lady Merrick did.”

Wyatt nodded in understanding. Cass wouldn’t come to him
with this latest argument, and Jacob feared it was one she would lose. The
charge must be serious indeed. He sent the man a piercing look. “For what
reasons?”

The red deepened. “She’s with child, my lord.”

Wyatt choked back a laugh at the expression on the valet’s
normally impassive features. “Yours, I assume?” At Jacob’s nod, he continued
conversationally, “Do you mean to marry her?”

The valet visibly squirmed, then nodded. “If it comes to
that, my lord.”

This was rich. He wished Cassandra were here to appreciate
it with him. On second thought, perhaps it was better that she was not.
Thinking quickly, Wyatt said, “I’d recommend it. How would you and Lotta like
to come with me to London?”

Jacob almost managed a smile. “We would be honored, my lord.
When shall we be ready?”

“As soon as you get yourselves to the vicar and make things
proper. By the time the banns are cried, we’ll be back here for the ceremony.
You can assure yourselves that Lotta will not end up on the streets while in my
employ.”

The servant made a deep obeisance and hurried out. Knowing
the working of his household well, Wyatt returned to his desk with pen and
paper and waited for the next intrusion.

It came sooner than expected. His mother knew better than to
interrupt him at his work. Cassandra had no such scruples. She burst through
the door and hugged his neck and kissed his cheek before he could even rise
from the chair. When he reached to pull her around where he could see her, she
curled up in his lap and began pressing excited kisses along his jaw.

“Oh, thank you, Wyatt. You are a blessed man. Lotta is my
only friend and it’s too bad of your mother to scream at her like that just
because Lotta got dizzy and spilled the tea over her new gown. Do you think she’ll
dismiss me when she finds out I’m having a baby too? Will you take me to London
with you? I haven’t seen my mother in months and I worry about her.”

That was too many difficult topics at once. Wyatt shifted
Cassandra more comfortably against his shoulder and pressed a kiss to her
forehead. “It is time we discussed plans for this child, since you will be
showing shortly. I think it would be best if we removed to one of my other
estates where our history isn’t as well known, until we can make our marriage
official. Then we can take an extended wedding journey. When we return with the
child, no one will ever be able to pin down exact dates, and although they may
speculate as they wish, it will all appear proper, which is all that is
necessary. Where would you like to go on our honeymoon?”

Cassandra grew still. The excitement she had entered with
seemed to die. She pressed her hand against Wyatt’s waistcoat and buried her
face against the linen of his neckcloth. “Don’t send me away, Wyatt. Can’t we
go on as we are? Everyone believes we are married. Can we not leave it at that?”

Wyatt steeled himself for the tantrum that would follow the
soft pleas. “I’m not sending you away, Cass. I have to go to London for a short
time. I think you would be happier away from my mother. I’ll take you to Sussex
and introduce you to my staff there. Then, when I come back from London, we can
travel on to the Lake District. You will be much more comfortable there through
the summer as the child grows bigger. The air is marvelous, and I know you will
love the fells. I have no desire to leave you for any length of time at all.”

Cassandra sat up and slid off his lap. “But I cannot leave
until harvest, surely you must see that? The men would think I was deserting
them. And I’ve made such promises—”

Wyatt stood and caught her arm. “Don’t be nonsensical, Cass.
MacGregor can manage your few acres along with my own. He can lend them the
equipment they need. The crops can be stored in my barns. That is not the
problem here.”

“Oh, yes, it is, too! That is the whole problem here, Wyatt
Mannering! Everything must be done
your
way. It is
your
concerns that must be
put first.
Your
name must not be
muddied by the presence of a pregnant mistress. What I want has nothing to do
with it. I don’t want to go to Sussex. I want to go to London. And I shall,
even if you won’t take me.” Cassandra shook his hand off and flew out the door
before Wyatt could stop her.

Her argument was specious, of course. Wyatt realized that. She
hadn’t stated her real reasons, but he heard them anyway, even louder for being
unsaid.
You are the one who wants to get
married. I don’t.

But she carried his child. She was young and heedless and
had never been given an opportunity to spread her wings. He would have to give
her that opportunity, but not until his child had a name. She would simply have
to accept that fact.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to protect her while
he went to London. He shouldn’t have suggested that Jacob go with him. The
ex-soldier would prove a more competent bodyguard than anyone else he knew. But
he needed the loyalty of that pair and their knowledge of Duncan’s and Rupert’s
households to carry off this scheme. Perhaps he should just abduct Cassandra
and carry her off to Sussex against her will.