Andrea Kane (19 page)

He bowed, brushing her hand with his lips.

“My dear, the pleasure is mine.”

Kassie barely heard William Devon’s words. She was staring past him at the cold, majestic woman who was regarding her through haughty ice-blue eyes—eyes that were filled with hatred.

“So you are Braden’s wife.” She moved forward with the grace and arrogance of a queen, her blond curls sweeping the back of her rich blue silk gown.

“I am.” Kassie kept her features carefully schooled, although she identified Abigail Devon as an enemy at once. The only question remaining was why.

A small mocking smile played about Abigail’s lips. Her malicious gaze swept Kassie’s disheveled figure with amusement and scorn. “A riding accident, you said”—she paused, frowning in apparent perplexity—“it is Kassandra, is it not?”

“Yes, it was, and yes, it is.” Kassie could feel herself begin to tremble with anger.

Abigail nodded. “You are new to Sherburgh … and to your title, Kassandra. Surely you must be far too busy learning your proper role to spend much time at the stables.”

“I find time for both, Lady Abigail.”

“I see. Apparently, you are very resourceful, Kassandra.”

Kassie noted the purposeful absence of her new title in Abigail’s address. Evidently the other woman resented her for marrying into the
ton
while being born only to the gentry. So be it.

Kassie took a deep breath. “I am delighted to meet both of you,” she said calmly, addressing the duke as well as his condescending daughter. Holding her head high, she continued, smoothing her skirts as if they were not wrinkled and torn. “And I do apologize for my rather soiled appearance. Had I known that you were coming to Sherburgh, I would have postponed my riding disaster for a later date.” She smiled, an enchanting smile that made a dimple appear in each cheek. “However, if you have only just arrived—”

“We were just leaving,” Abigail shot back. “In fact, had I known that Braden was in London, I would never have made the trip out to Sherburgh.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Kassie responded, feeling a knife twist in her stomach. Obviously this woman had been involved with Braden in ways that had nothing to do with either friendship or business.
Had been,
Kassie reminded herself silently. Now Braden belonged to her.

“Abigail, my dear,” Cyril was saying in a soothing voice, “Braden made this trip quite suddenly.” Kassie blinked at the blatant lie. “Had he known of his plans sooner, I am certain he would have contacted your family.”

Abigail nodded, slightly appeased. “I suppose so.” She brightened, speaking to her father and Cyril as if Kassie were not even in the room. “Then he will just have to reconsider and attend our dinner party in order to atone for his oversight.” She pouted prettily. “I still haven’t forgiven him for missing our house party last month. Although”—she cast a withering look in Kassie’s direction—“I can well understand why it would be difficult for him to attend social functions. His life is … complicated right now.”

What party? Kassie wanted to ask. Braden hadn’t even mentioned a dinner party.

William gave an uncomfortable laugh and clapped Cyril on the back. “An excellent idea, Cyril. You must convince Braden to come out to Lamsborough—and to bring his lovely new wife, of course,” he added hastily.

Cyril smiled. “I will certainly speak with him, William. Abigail is quite right, though. Braden has been caught up in pressing matters that have precluded him from accepting many invitations of late.”

“Of course.” William Devon seemed eager to take his leave and end the uncomfortable conversation that was taking place. “Come, Abigail. Our carriage awaits us.” He turned to Kassie. “Again, it was a pleasure … Your Grace.” Kassie wondered if he might choke on the words.

Abigail didn’t even look back. “Good day, Kassandra. You might go and change your gown now. And I would suggest a bath as well.” She sailed out of the house.

The door closed behind them.

A very unpleasant, never-before-uttered oath hovered on Kassie’s lips.

Despite her brave front she was totally shaken and close to tears. Swallowing deeply, she turned to Cyril.

“Am I the pressing matter that is keeping Braden from fulfilling his social obligations?”

Cyril raised his brows. “Of course not, Kassandra. I meant
business
matters.”

Kassie studied Cyril’s surprised and innocent expression. “I am not a fool, Cyril. It is quite apparent that you are displeased with me. I assure you it was not my intent to be thrown from a horse, nor to be introduced to Braden’s friends dressed like a waif.”

Cyril nodded. “No, you are not a fool, Kassandra. And you are absolutely right. I was terribly embarrassed by the situation. William Devon is a highly influential man who was a dear friend of Braden’s father and is currently involved in numerous business ventures with Braden. However, I do acknowledge that what occurred was not your fault, but rather an unfortunate set of circumstances. So forgive me if I seemed cold or unfeeling. My position was a difficult one.”

Unprepared for Cyril’s apology, Kassie blinked. “Oh. Very well, Cyril. I suppose I can understand the awkwardness of the situation. However …” She stopped herself. She had been about to boldly state her dislike and distrust of Abigail Devon, but common sense told her that it would be foolhardy to do so. If she hoped to retain Cyril’s friendship, she had to refrain from criticizing his old and dear friends. No, she would simply ask Braden about Abigail when he returned.

“However?” Cyril prompted.

“However, I was surprised by Lady Abigail’s mention of a dinner party. I knew of no such invitation,” Kassie improvised.

Cyril gave her a shrewd look. “Most likely Braden did not mention it because he declined the invitation. Don’t let Abigail upset you, my dear. She is a bit spoiled and outspoken, but I assure you she speaks only out of genuine affection for Braden. They have known each other for many years.”

Genuine affection? Kassie thought not. But aware that Cyril was trying to spare her feelings, she said, “I’m sure you’re right, Cyril. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall take Lady Abigail’s advice and see to a bath and a fresh gown.”

“Of course. Are you certain you are uninjured?” The concern was back in his voice.

“Positive. I am stiff and sore and a bit bruised. By tomorrow I’ll be good as new.”

Cyril watched her go, thinking for the hundredth time how very lovely she was … and how ill-suited for his nephew. The thought of them appearing together at parties and balls, the reactions they would receive from the
ton
… Cyril drew himself up as an idea was born of his idle thought.
That might be the very thing to end this mockery of a marriage,
he mused.
Why didn’t I think of it before now?

He was suddenly most eager for Braden to return to Sherburgh.

“There, there, love, it’s all right. Everything is just fine.”

Margaret rocked Kassie gently against her own ample bosom, frowning at the violent trembling that assailed her mistress. The last few nights had been worse than ever before, Kassie awakening in a cold, frantic sweat twice each night from the dreadful dream.

Kassie took a deep gulp of air and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, Margaret … so sorry.”

The kindly maid gave Kassie a gentle shake. “Now don’t be foolish, child. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Kassie sat up, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “Because of me you haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days.”

“I’ve gotten all the sleep I need, Your Grace. Don’t you worry.” She tucked Kassie back into bed like a small child. “You’re the one I’m worrying about. Why, you’ve got dark rings under those beautiful eyes.” Kassie managed a small smile. “I’ll do something about them at once,” she promised, settling herself against the pillows. “And you do the same. Really, Margaret, I’m fine now. Please go to bed.”

Margaret chewed her lower lip. Regardless of what Her Grace said, she was definitely
not
fine. And once and for all, it was time the duke knew about it. Silently she promised herself that she would tell him everything when he returned from London.

“Very well, Your Grace, if you’re sure.”

“I am.”

Margaret nodded. “Then good night.”

“Good night, Margaret. And thank you,” Kassie whispered. When she heard the door close behind her maid she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring off into the darkness. When would this torment end? she wondered desperately. Had her stressful meeting with Abigail Devon precipitated this onslaught of recurring nightmares, or was it the worry of Braden’s imminent return and the impending conversation they would have about her father’s visit to Sherburgh?

Kassie rested her forehead against her knees. She was worried, yes, but oh, how she missed her husband and longed for him to come home. They had so much to resolve, so much to talk over. She would make him share his feelings with her, make him understand why she had pulled away from him that day at the stream. And then everything would be as it should.

The memory of
Lady
Abigail Devon’s proprietary air when she spoke of Braden flashed through Kassie’s mind, and her confidence wavered. Next to Abigail’s sophistication and obvious experience with men, Kassie felt childish and inept. Would Braden find her that way as well? The thought made her stomach tighten. What transpired in bed between a man and a woman remained a mystery to her, yet it was no secret to Abigail Devon.
That
was a certainty.

Renewed determination surged through Kassie’s blood. No matter what her own past had demonstrated, she knew that Braden would never hurt her, never betray her love or her trust. She could no longer allow herself to hold anything back. Somehow she was going to overcome her own foolish resistance, because more than anything in the world she wanted to belong to Braden, to really be his wife—and not in name alone.

C
YRIL HEADED TOWARD HIS
bedchamber, lost in thought. The idea was spectacular—just the thing Braden needed to open his besotted eyes to the truth and end this travesty of a marriage. Cyril frowned, weighing the fact that Kassandra would inevitably be hurt and humiliated by his plan. He shrugged the worry away. She would thank him someday, when she was able to perceive the impossibility of her having a happy future with Braden.

A door closed quietly at the far end of the hall. Cyril turned around in surprise, wondering who was about at this late hour. To his astonishment, Kassandra’s lady’s maid, Margaret, was scurrying down the hall toward the stairs.

“Margaret?” He made his presence known at once. Obviously Margaret had just come from her mistress’s bedchamber. What on earth could Kassandra have required at two o’clock in the morning?

Hearing her name, Margaret started and looked about.

“Oh, m’lord, ’tis you,” she said with great relief as Cyril retraced his steps to the second-floor landing.

“Did you just come from Her Grace’s room?” he asked, his brows knit in concern.

Margaret nodded. “Yes, m’lord, I did.”

Cyril’s frown deepened. “Why?”

The brusque demand made Margaret distinctly uncomfortable. Lord Cyril had always been pleasant to her, and she had no reason to distrust him. Still, it was the duke’s right to know of his wife’s torment before anyone else did, Margaret’s instincts told her. Then he could determine how to handle it.

Her decision made, Margaret gave Cyril a partial truth.

“Her Grace has been having difficulty sleeping, m’lord,” she said in a respectful tone. “I went in to check on her.”

Cyril visibly relaxed. “She is looking more and more peaked these days,” he agreed. “I only wish there was something I could do.”

“You have been extremely kind to our new duchess, m’lord,” Margaret replied at once. “And I know how much she appreciates your concern. I think she will improve greatly when His Grace returns to Sherburgh. She misses him very much.”

Cyril’s expression was bland. He remained silent, absorbing Margaret’s words.

“Will that be all, m’lord?” she asked after a moment.

Cyril blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said will that be all, m’lord?” Margaret repeated. “It is late, and if you have no further questions …”

“I’m sorry, Margaret, of course,” Cyril said at once. “I didn’t mean to detain you. By all means, get some rest. It will soon be day.”

“Thank you, m’lord. Good night.”

“Good night, Margaret.”

Cyril stared down the hall at Kassie’s closed door. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned and went to bed.

“God, but it’s good to be back!” Braden stretched his legs and gazed out the carriage window, drinking in the familiar sights of Sherburgh.

Charles studied his friend silently. Never had Braden been so restless on a trip, and never had he so eagerly anticipated their return home. And all because of one beautiful young woman who had found her way into his heart.

Charles smiled. Oh, Braden had never admitted it, not even to himself. But having known Braden since boyhood, Charles recognized the signs of transformation.
And
their cause.

Braden Sheffield was in love.

“You’re certainly pensive today,” Braden commented, glancing curiously at Charles.

“I was thinking that you did not accomplish what you intended on this trip.”

Braden’s dark brows went up in surprise. “The meeting was most productive. And the mare we acquired at Tattersall’s is a beauty.”

“I wasn’t referring to our business, Braden.”

Dead silence.

“I was referring to your decisions with regard to your marriage.”

More silence.

Charles leaned forward soberly. “Braden, you have successfully avoided mentioning Kassandra’s name for five days now. The problem can be ignored no longer. What is it that you intend to do?”

“Because I have not spoken of Kassie does not mean I have not thought of her,” Braden replied quietly. An understatement at best, he admitted to himself. He had thought of little else since leaving for London.

“And …”

Braden sighed. “And I am as confused as ever. I realize now that I was a fool to think I could squelch my desire for Kassandra. Quite simply, she is beautiful, she is my wife, and I want her.” The words conjured up an image of Kassie lying half-naked in his arms by the stream. Braden gritted his teeth. “The question is, what does Kassie want? The answer, I’m afraid, is that she doesn’t know
what
she wants. She is part grown woman, part frightened child. She is strong, yet so very fragile, and I am concerned about hurting her or reopening old wounds.”