Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (17 page)

Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds. “You will never do that, Henry. It would take a stronger man than you to bring me down.”

His eyes suddenly lost their hardness, and he came to her. With a gentleness that surprised her, he touched her cheek. “It doesn’t have to be this way between us, Kassidy.”

She stared at him in puzzlement. He had never spoken to her in such a soft tone. Was that spirits she smelled on his breath? Henry never drank. Why was he acting so strangely?

His hand moved to her hair and tangled in a curly blond lock. “Whenever you have defied me, I have admired you for it, while wanting to punish you as well. While you were away, I searched for you for days. When I learned Abigail was dead and you were missing, I could not grieve for her, because of my distress for you.”

She pushed his hand away and took a quick step back, still too stunned to speak.

He ran trembling hands through his hair while his eyes brightened with tears. “I’m obsessed with you, and I hate you for it. You are evil—a seductress.”

Kassidy edged toward the door. “Dear God, you are mad, Henry. I’m your sister.”

“Yes,” he said, burying his head in his hands. “You have driven me to this state.”

Kassidy felt sick inside. “I have done nothing to you. I don’t even like you.”

He looked at her with the old anger. “Get out, Kassidy—go to your room. But you will find that the baby is already on the way to Brighton with the wet nurse.”

Kassidy turned quickly to the door and wrenched it open. She fled into the hallway, crying out Arrian’s name. She rushed into the room where she had left Arrian and found it empty.

Frantically she ran to the stairs, where she could view the front of the inn through a high window. When she saw the nurse climbing into a carriage with the baby, she cried out in desperation, but no one heard her. Her head was spinning, and she had to clutch the bannister tightly as she made her way downstairs.

By the time she reached the road, the carriage had already pulled away, and Kassidy could only watch helplessly as it moved out of sight.

With a feeling of defeat, she moved to the side of the inn and leaned against the brick wall, staying in the shadows so Henry could not find her. She was too weary to move, and too heartsick to cry.

She stood there for a long time, not knowing what to do or where to go. She would never return to the inn because there was something twisted about Henry’s attitude toward her. If only she never had to see him again.

Slowly reason returned, and Kassidy realized she had to take action. She looked across the cobblestone street where several men were loading a wagon with fresh vegetables. She heard one of the men mention he was going to London.

Feeling so weak she could hardly walk, Kassidy managed to cross the street and approach the man sitting in the drivers’ seat.

“Please, kind sir,” she said in a soft voice, “I have no money, but will you please take me to London with you?”

Seeing the desperation in the girl’s eyes, the man nodded. “I’ll let ya’ ride along, miss, and glad for the company.”

Gratefully she allowed him to assist her onto the wagon seat. She huddled beneath the blanket he tossed her. Kassidy did not feel safe from Henry until they pulled away from the village.

She could not return to Aunt Mary, because Henry would only find her there and force her to go with him.

Her eyes filled with hopeless tears. There was only one person who could help her now—only one person Henry would never dare defy.

Kassidy would seek the aid of Raile DeWinter.

20

The butler was ill and had retired to his bed hours ago; therefore, it was Oliver who answered the knock on the door with irritation at the late caller. His irritation turned to concern when he recognized Miss Maragon, who appeared to be terribly upset.

“I must see the duke at once,” she said, taking a ragged breath. “It’s most urgent.”

“Come into the private study, Miss Maragon. I’ll fetch his grace.”

Wearily, Kassidy sat on the wide leather chair, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes. The duke would help her—she was sure of it.

Raile sat at the head of his table, his arm draped about the shoulder of Gabrielle Candeur, while the two of them presided over a party that was lasting well into the morning hours.

“To the handsomest couple in all London, our host and hostess,” Lord Justin Callaret announced, raising his glass for a toast.

Gabrielle looked up lovingly at Raile, aching inside because there was only admiration in his eyes when he looked at her. She had contrived and schemed to become his mistress, and now that she was, she wanted more from him. But Raile would never give his heart to her, and perhaps not to any woman.

“And to the brightest star to grace the London stage in decades,” Lord Justin continued, as he winked at Gabrielle. “Whose silver voice captured the most sought-after bachelor in town.”

Raile placed his wineglass down, and when a servant would have refilled it, he waved him away. “Your glib tongue runs away with you tonight, Justin,” Raile said, finding he was weary of this party. “Perhaps we should—“

He was interrupted when Oliver bent to whisper in his ear. Coming to his feet, Raile apologized to his guests, explaining that he must leave them for a moment. “Go on with the party.”

There was a pout on Gabrielle’s lips. “Do not stay away long.”

When Raile entered the study, Kassidy came weakly to her feet. “Your grace,” she said, “please help me.”

Just as he reached her, Kassidy crumpled, and he lifted her into his arms. Placing her on the sofa, he motioned for Oliver to bring him a glass of sherry. When Kassidy tried to rise, he aided her.

“What has happened, Miss Maragon?”

“Please help me, your grace. My brother has taken Arrian away from me. You must get her back—you said you would always be interested in her welfare, so I came to you.”

Oliver handed Raile a glass, which Raile raised to Kassidy’s lips. “Drink this, and perhaps it will calm you. Then you can tell me what has happened.”

She took a sip and shoved it away, feeling its warmth spread inside her. “Henry has sent the baby away to a foundling home in Brighton. You must save her—she’s your niece also.”

“When did this happen?”

Kassidy looked at the clock on the mantel. “They will have had six hours’ start.”

Raile turned to Oliver. “Have the coach made ready, and you go to Brighton at once. Bring the baby back here.”

Without hesitating, the valet nodded. “It will be as you say, your grace.”

“And, Oliver, give my regrets to my guests and ask them to leave.”

Kassidy came to her feet. “Oh, you are entertaining, your grace. It is I who should leave.”

“You will do nothing of the kind.” He nodded to Oliver, and the valet hurried from the room to do his bidding.

Kassidy’s eyes shone with gratitude as she sank into the soft chair. “Will those in authority at the foundling home allow your man to take Arrian?”

“Let me assure you Oliver is most persuasive. He will bring her safely back to you.”

Kassidy took his hand. “I will always be grateful to you, your grace. I don’t know what I would do without Arrian.”

Her hair was tangled about her face, her gown was wrinkled, and there was a black smudge on her cheek. He could only imagine what she had been through to bring her to such a state.

“I can’t return to my brother.” There was real terror in her eyes. “He will find me wherever I am.”

“Why are you so afraid of your brother?”

“I . . . we do not always agree and Henry is a little mad. I can never forgive him for taking Abigail’s baby away from me.”

“Then I believe your best solution is to marry me, Miss Maragon. Your brother cannot touch you as long as you are my wife.”

She lowered her head. “I cannot marry any man, your grace.”

He raised her chin. “Why is that?”

“There are reasons that are mine alone.”

He saw a tear roll onto the tip of her long lash. “May I inquire what those reasons are?”

She met his eyes, deciding to be truthful with him. “I ... am soiled.” She turned her head away from him. “No man would want me for his wife.”

Raile was silent for a moment. “You have been with a lover?”

She refused to meet his eyes, so great was her shame. “No, not a lover.” Her voice faltered. “I... did not willingly . . . give myself to any man. It happened while I was at Newgate.” She stopped to catch her breath. “One of the guards, the one who threatened to sell me to a brothel, he ... I was unconscious at the time, and am grateful that I have no memory of the incident.”

Raile closed his eyes, feeling her shame as if it were his own. He hated to ask, but he had to know: “Are you certain you are not with child?”

Shame stained her cheeks. Such a thought had never entered her mind. “Of course I am not.”

“You don’t need to say any more, Miss Maragon.”

“I have told no one about this, not even Aunt Mary. I would not have told you, except you needed to know why I cannot marry you.”

“Is this the only reason you refuse to be my wife?”

She looked into deep compassionate eyes, wishing she could rest her weary head against his broad shoulders. “It is surely reason enough, your grace.”

“It does not deter me, Miss Maragon.”

“How could you want me after—“

“Perhaps I should explain to you what I require in a wife. You see, the prince has virtually ordered me to marry.”

At that moment the door was pushed open and Gabrielle entered. “Raile, would you send me away without a by-your-leave?”

Kassidy stared at the beautiful woman in a shimmering gold gown, wondering who she could be.

There was irritation in Raile’s voice. “I’ll call on you tomorrow, Gabrielle. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied at the moment.”

Gabrielle glanced at the ragtag girl and mistook her for a servant. “If you find your domestic help more fascinating than me, then I shall allow Lord Justin to drive me home.”

Gabrielle had hoped to make Raile jealous, but he merely took her elbow and guided her to the door, “Yes, you do that, Gabrielle.”

When he had closed the door behind Gabrielle, he returned to Kassidy. “Forgive the interruption.” He sat down, his eyes reflective. “Now where were we?”

“That woman was very beautiful.”

“Gabrielle. Yes, I suppose she is.”

“You must love her?”

“Miss Maragon, can you forget about her and allow us to go on with our conversation?” It was apparent he was losing patience with her. “I have asked you repeatedly to be my wife—and repeatedly you have refused.”

“Then why do you keep asking when my answer is always the same?”

“Damned if I know,” he said, his voice full of irritation. “I suppose it’s because more than anything, I want a son. I’ll make the offer to you only this one last time, and then I shall never ask you again.”

“If you want only a son, there are any number of women you could marry. The one who just left here seemed genuinely fond of you.”

In his aggravation, Raile forgot to be discreet. “Miss Maragon, one does not marry a woman like Gabrielle Candeur.”

Kassidy’s mouth flew open. “She is your . . . mistress!”

“Miss Maragon, let me say this to you so you will better understand. My mother’s family was in trade. And while she brought enormous wealth to the DeWinter family, she was never accepted by the nobility. Each time she was hurt by them, I was hurt for her. I will not have a wife unworthy of being the duchess of Ravenworth.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I have no desire to have my life interfered with by a wife who would make demands on my time. Between us, there will be no illusions. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me. Ours could be an amiable union. My one goal is to restore Ravenworth Castle to its former glory. I believe that you would not demand attention and take me away from my work.”

“What would be your demands on a wife?” Kassidy could not help but ask.

“I would require very little from you. I would allow you a free hand with money, so you would want for nothing. You can, if you like, live most of the year in my town house here in London—or if you like, with your aunt. I would, of course, eventually expect you to present me with an heir.”

She couldn’t keep from smiling. “What would happen, your grace, if your practical plans went awry and your wife should present you with a daughter instead of a son?”

“If such were the case, I would require her to bear my children until she produced a son,” he said seriously.

Her tone was mocking. “Quite a prize offering to become your brood mare.”

For a moment, a look of disbelief crossed Raile’s face. After all, was he not offering her a title, money, and freedom? “Don’t be too hasty in turning down my offer.” A slight smile twisted his lips. “You should know that my brood mares receive the very best of care from me.”

“A great recommendation to a future bride,” she said dryly.

“I should make it clear to you so there will be no mistake—I will never love you, Miss Maragon.” His eyes bore into hers to drive home the truth. “But if you don’t expect affection, you’ll find me an admirable husband. After you have produced a male heir, I will not prevent you from seeking . . . affection . . . elsewhere, if you do it in a discreet manner.”

Kassidy opened her mouth to speak, and her voice came out in a rush of amazement. “You would not mind a wife having an affair of the heart? Does this also mean that you would feel free to take a mistress after marriage?”

“Since we are speaking frankly, I would not like such an arrangement. I place no importance on love at all.”

“I think, your grace, that you have the most amazing view of marriage.”

“I believe in candor.”

“But not decorum.”

He smiled. “Your sharp tongue may make me reconsider my proposal.”

“Perhaps you would want a dimwit for a wife,” Kassidy said scornfully.

He studied her carefully. “I think not. I bore very easily.”

Kassidy considered his proposal for a moment. If she became the duke’s wife, Henry would no longer have any hold over her. After what had happened tonight, she was more frightened of her brother than ever. Also, she must consider Arrian. With the duke’s help, she would be able to provide her niece with a good home.

“Before you reject my offer again, Miss Maragon, let me tell you of the arrangements I am prepared to make concerning the baby. Upon our marriage, I will settle on her the amount of one hundred thousand pounds. I would triple that amount to you the day you present me with an heir.”

“It seems important to you that you have a son.”

His eyes grew cold, and he seemed to look right through her. “Having a son means everything to me.” A slight smile softened his features. “To make the offer more tempting to you, I will allow you to regain your strength for the period of one year before I would ask you to become a true wife to me.”

“One year before you would ...”

“Claim you for my wife,” he finished for her.

A year was a long time, and many things could happen. To have the freedom of a married woman with none of the demands was all she desired at the moment. And yet, something stirred in her—something like excitement at the thought of giving this man his son.

“On considering all the aspects, your grace, my answer is yes. I am willing to play cards with the devil himself, if it will get me what I want.”

He could not help but smile at her casting him in the role of the devil. “What is it you want, Miss Maragon?”

“I want to be able to raise my sister’s daughter and live my life in relative comfort.”

He nodded with assurance, as if he had known he could bend her to his will. “An admirable decision, for an admirable reason.” As an afterthought, Raile took her hand and brushed it with his lips. “I will leave all the details to you and your aunt. I do request, however, that the ceremony be a small one and take place as soon as possible. I have been away from Ravenworth Castle far too long as it is.” He stood up. “I will make arrangements to transport you to your aunt’s residence at once.” He smiled. “Kassidy.”

“And you are Raile.”

He took her hand and led her to the door. “There is a carriage standing by that will take you to Lady Mary. If you have no objections, I’ll call on you tomorrow and we shall finalize our wedding plans.”

The wedding would take place three days hence, and as the day grew near, Kassidy’s apprehension intensified.