The Conquest of Lady Cassandra (36 page)

On his way to his chambers, he decided to look in on his father. He walked into the dressing room. To his surprise, his mother stood at the bedchamber’s door, her profile elegant and regal while she peered through a small opening.

She did not hear him approach, so intent she was on what she saw in the chamber beyond. He stepped behind her and looked over her head.

His father lay on the bed, propped on pillows, his white nightshirt catching the candles’ glow. Beside the bed, on a chair pulled close, sat Aunt Sophie.

They were holding hands. And while he and his mother
watched, his father lifted Sophie’s hand and kissed it on the palm—the way a lover might.

“Y
ou are not to tell him that you know.”

His mother whispered the command as soon as she noticed him. She closed the door to the bedchamber, then beckoned with her hand. She led him across the dressing room to the small sitting room that flanked it.

It took him a few more minutes to rearrange his thoughts. It did not help that his mother did not appear at all surprised by the implications of what they had just seen.

“I had assumed it was Grandfather,” he finally said. “Sophie is older than Father by ten years.”

“Continue thinking it was your grandfather if it makes it easier, although I cannot imagine why it would matter.”

It mattered for a lot of reasons. The immediate ones were because the man in there having a reunion with an old lover had lectured and harped about morality too many times to a son with whom it now appeared he had more in common than he admitted.

But perhaps that was the reason for all those rows to begin with.

“You do not mind?” he asked.

“It was long ago.”

“Why do I think you did not mind long ago either?”

She sighed, but it did nothing to alter her straight spine as she perched like a statue on the edge of a bench. “If you must know, I gave my blessing, Yates. I was glad he found someone for a while. It was after you were born, and the physicians had advised against another pregnancy. Well, you know what that means. She was a dear friend back then, and when I saw his interest in her, I…let them both know that I did not mind at all.”

“Did it last long?”

“Just under a year. Your grandfather was not as understanding
when he learned about it. He indeed was a true Highburton, and forced your father to end it.”

“And settled property and jewels on her to buy back the family honor. No wonder Father did not want me looking into the land, although I am sure he knew nothing about the jewels.”

“He knew about none of it at the time, and only learned about the property when he inherited. He would never have tainted what they shared with such things, like she was a common courtesan. They had true affection for each other. And, I think, true…passion. I love him dearly, but…I could not deny him knowing
that
kind of love, if he wanted it.”

He paced around, fitting this final discovery into all the rest. It closed the door on several questions, and explained why Sophie had not wanted to take residence in this house and had resisted it.

He looked at his mother, who as always appeared every inch a countess, even as she informed him of the love affair that she permitted, and perhaps even encouraged.
You are sure that Elinor does not mind?

“Father thought those earrings had been stolen. He came to think Sophie was the one who took them. A betrayal of trust, he called it,” he said. “His vehemence on the point makes more sense now.”

“And you were determined to uncover the truth for him, weren’t you? What a nuisance those earrings ended up being. I finally told him the truth a few days ago, so he would not think she had merely used him. I gave them to her, Yates, not your grandfather. They were my…parting gift. When it ended, I knew she and I would never be close friends again.”

“It was good of you to continue receiving her, and being a friend such as you could be when the stories about her started flying.”

“Whatever else is said about me, I hope it is known that I am not a hypocrite.”

Not a hypocrite. She might be the only member of the family who could escape that criticism too.

“Did you bring her up here to see him?”

“She hardly found her way here herself.” She palmed at her skirt, smoothing the fabric, then folded her hands on her lap. “Neither has much time. Her mind is starting to get lost. Surely Cassandra has noticed. In a few years—who knows? Now, you should go. She will be leaving soon.”

He went over and kissed her crown. “It is said that he won the prize of the Season when you accepted his proposal. Even he did not know the half of it.”

He left her there, sitting as if stiff corsets still ruled her posture, waiting while her husband reminisced about a great passion with her friend.

She has always been the most generous woman I ever had the
honor to know,
Sophie had said.

Hell, yes.

C
assandra swung her leg so she could sit astride Ambury’s thighs. He startled awake and looked over his shoulder at her.

“What are you up to?”

“I am just admiring my favorite view of you.” She caressed the hard bum that she found so appealing.

“Just never tell me that Lady Lydia also had that view of me. I prefer to think that she shielded her virginal eyes.”

“Of course she did. Right away. She saw nothing.” She leaned forward and placed a careful kiss at the top of his spine. “You were out of sorts when you came home. Did it not go well today at the trial?”

“It went very well. It is finished. Penthurst is acquitted. The peers accepted his claim that as a gentleman he could not fully explain the reason for the duel without compromising the good names of the innocent. It helped that he had not issued the challenge, I suppose.”

“You do not approve of their decision, I take it.”

“I am glad it ended as it did. If I was discontented, it is because the truth of it remains a mystery. And because my assumptions may have cost me two friends instead of only one.”

“Would Penthurst end the mystery if you asked him?”

“He told me that honor forbids it. Someday, however, perhaps I will see what he will reveal, if he can speak of any of it. In the meantime, I debate telling Kendale and Southwaite what you told me about his plot with your brother to compromise you. Southwaite, at least, will not be surprised, I suspect.”

She rested her head against his shoulders. “You want to do that only because of me. For me. It might be better to let them remember him without that story blemishing his honor.” She kissed him again, a bit lower. “You do know that it had nothing to do with me, don’t you? That is all that matters to me—that you no longer wonder. Penthurst is an acquaintance and nothing more. If I have any feelings for him, it is only gratitude that he treated me with respect and never cut me, when others were less generous.”

That created a shifting of the land as Ambury turned on his back. Well awake now, he looked up at her. “Others like me, you mean. In treating you as a woman of the world, I insulted you. I apologize. I have no excuse except desire, which can affect a man’s judgment for the worse.”

“I can hardly mind that you were bold, and tried to add me to your conquests. Someday I will be the Countess of Highburton as a result.”

He pulled her down into an embrace. “I have often wondered what might have been if Lakewood had not laid claim to you so quickly during your first Season.”

“Have you started wishing you had courted me back then? That is very sweet.”

“I wondered about it long before now. Even before Southwaite’s wedding. I always wanted you.”

She accepted the deep kiss that accompanied that
declaration. Her arousal flared the way he could so easily make it do. The difference this time, and for the last many times, was the way her chest filled with layers of emotion so poignant that she could easily weep if she were not careful.

She laid her head on his chest and trailed her fingertips over the hard, subtle swells of his muscles. His caresses warmed her back in turn. “I think I prefer that it happened as it did. I was just as silly as most girls, and back then I would have expected more than being wanted in the way you mean.”

“And you do not now?”

Her throat burned. She did not expect more, but she ached for it. The pleasure was wonderful, and the intimacy deep, but she wanted to believe that not only her heart experienced this painfully bright joy during their time together.

He rolled, and rose up on his forearms so they faced each other. “There should be no expectation of more, or even great pleasure, in such matches as ours. Duty and loyalty are all one can really expect.”

“I know. It is good that you want me in that way, and I you. I am not complaining.”

“Nor I. But I wonder if in not expecting more, I accidentally found it.”

Her surroundings disappeared, and nothing existed except the two of them and a trembling excitement that frightened her. She felt she balanced on a very thin rope, using only one toe. Merely breathing could send her falling into disappointment. Yet the look in his eyes encouraged her to believe that would not happen if she risked stepping forward.

“My pleasure with you is not only physical,” he said. “I know a rare joy with you. It is not only pride that makes me want to hold on to you and keep you for myself.” He kissed her sweetly. “You have bedazzled me, and stolen my heart, Cassandra.”

She embraced his neck and held him so she could kiss him. “I knew that I loved you, but dared not hope you shared my feelings.” She
kissed him again and again. They met in sweet passion first, then it turned fierce, as if they tried to consume each other. She felt him enter her, hard and deep, claiming her the way she wanted.

“It is good,” he muttered. “Perfect. Love makes it better.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips. “Yes. Love makes it wonderful.”

C
assandra felt Yates shift on the bed. She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her.

“What is it?”

“Come with me. I need to do something.”

They threw on their robes, and he led the way to his dressing room. He lit a lamp.

He pointed to a chair near the wardrobe. “Sit there.”

She scrambled onto the chair and pulled her legs and feet up under her. He turned, his hair mussed from their loving, and the raw silk of his robe floating. He fussed with something on a table.

When he turned back to her, he held a violin in one hand and a bow in the other.

“Do not be insulted if I do not appear to notice you while I do this,” he said. “I will know that you are there. I am not nearly as lost in it as I may seem.”

It flattered her beyond words that he had invited her to listen. She hoped he did not think the gift was required. “I would not want to intrude, darling. Are you sure I will not?”

“That remains to be seen, but I do not think you will. I promise you that I want to do this.”

She did not object further. She sat as still as she could and hoped she would not intrude in the least.

There is nothing quite like hearing a violin break the stillness of the night. Its sound filled the small chamber and seemed to emerge from every direction. The notes came
cleanly, clearly, purely. The sounds of heaven must be like this.

She watched his strong fingers move over the instrument as if on their own accord, while that bow set the music free. His expression fascinated her. Hard. Thoughtful. His lids remained low over eyes that showed an internal distraction, as if the sounds held a conversation with his mind.

The experience moved her. Exhilarated her. She wished it would not end.

When it did, he lowered the instrument indifferently, as if nothing remarkable had just happened.

“Thank you, Yates. This was the best day of love declarations you could have given me. It was amazing.”

He set the violin back in its case, then came and helped her to her feet. With his arm around her, he led her back to the bedchamber. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Did I manage not to interfere?”

“I was aware of you more than others in the past, but you were not a distraction. Far from it. In fact, it appears that this is something else that love makes better.”

L
ove had made the music better, but not different. Yates acknowledged that the next day as he finished dressing. It had been a joy to have Cassandra there with him. If anyone else had intruded so thoroughly, he would certainly have found it a nuisance. She had fit there, however, as perfectly as she fit against his body when he embraced her. As ideally as she fit in so many ways.

Even so, the music had brought the clarity that he needed. It had organized the thoughts that had kept him awake. While he played, his mind had drifted through the images and impressions of the day, arranging and rearranging them.

People from the past and present had walked through his mind. Slowly, new insights had emerged—that Sophie had
mistaken him for his father again today, as she left Marielle Lyon’s house, just as she had when he approached her at Dr. Wakely’s home. That he would tell Cassandra that he would not take mistresses—he could not foresee ever wanting to, but she had a right to hear a pledge. That the revelations of the day had explained everything, but also had not.

That last thought kept coming back, until a few other memories attached themselves to it. Small ones, mostly. Little oddities that he had barely noted at the time. Then something not at all small became an echo behind the rest—Cassandra’s hurt that her brother had treated her and her aunt so cruelly for such little gain.

Perhaps what he really wanted was to make sure you married a man with whom he had an understanding about that inheritance.

It is as if when I was not looking, my brother disappeared and another person took his place

Gerald has become an insolent bother. I should tell his father about him, so he could be put in his place.