letter Aunt Matilda received today was a summons from Duncan to bring her
home. She knew what that meant, and she dreaded it with every fiber of her
being. She could not imagine anything worse than being Rupert’s wife.
Passing by the library door, Cass heard her name mentioned
and could not resist hesitating to see who was speaking. If she could only find
Wyatt alone, perhaps she could make him understand the desperation of her
plight. She was more than certain he had no love for Catherine, or she for him.
More than once she had heard Cat speak of the changes she would make in Merrick
when she was wedded. Cassandra didn’t think Wyatt would approve of his
betrothed’s intentions.
She listened as the first speaker laughed.
“She’s a rare handful, I agree. I’ve heard it said she
accompanies Eddings to the worst hells in town. Have you made a pitch for her
bed yet?”
“Good Lord, no. Maggie would have my eyelashes out. The
Howards never were ones for discretion, and word would be out faster than I
could get between her legs. Besides, I hear she’s promised to Rupert, and he
would take the balls off any man daring to encroach on his territory.”
“I heard him bragging about his latest conquest, but I hadn’t
put the two together. He’s really getting leg-shackled, then? She’s a pretty
piece, but she’ll have horns on his head before the wedding bells quit chiming.
Did you see that gown she had on the other night? It was all I could do to keep
from dragging her into the bushes right there and then.”
“She’s a gauche little devil, admittedly, but what do you
expect? I bet in bed...”
Cheeks flaming, tears burning at her eyes, Cassandra hurried
on. Those who eavesdropped never heard good of themselves, she reminded
herself, but the pain of those insults could not be dismissed as easily.
Gauche! It was bad enough that they thought her free with her favors, but
gauche!
That’s what came of never having a proper debut. Or teacher.
She had done nothing right. It had been a mistake to come. She didn’t belong
here. They had made that plain enough all week. They were all laughing behind
her back.
That made her angry. So Rupert had bragged of his conquests,
had he? Did they all think the daughter of the Marquess of Eddings was so
desperate as to settle for a dissipated baronet with the tongue of an adder?
She would have his scalp first. She would thrust him through with his own sword.
She would carve him into little pieces of bloodied meat not fitting for chicken
feed.
She had to marry
Merrick. That vow arrived in a blinding flash that burned through Cassandra and
brought a sheen of perspiration to her brow. Wyatt would never allow others to
speak of her so. He would cut out their tongues first. They would have to
respect her if she were the Earl of Merrick’s wife.
Her feet fairly flew up the stairs. She had no time left.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. It had become more than obvious
that Wyatt would never do the dishonorable thing and jilt his fiancée for a
wanton hoyden. It was just a matter of planning. She had been in worse
predicaments and managed to wiggle out of them.
It took an hour’s worth of pacing before she had the details
complete. It would work with the right timing. Wyatt would be furious, but she
would deal with that later.
Excitement replaced the shame and anger of earlier. She had
always wondered about the secrets of the marital bed. Perhaps she would find
out. Surely Wyatt thought her as attractive as those two toads in the study
did. That was all that mattered in a marriage anyway.
If Merrick could marry a plain-looking shrew like Catherine,
he should be grateful for the opportunity of someone who would cater to his
every whim. The chance of having a real home and family was worth crawling on
bended knees for, if necessary. In the long run, he’d be far better off with
her.
As she sat down at the narrow desk in her chamber and
scribbled out the missives that
home. She knew what that meant, and she dreaded it with every fiber of her
being. She could not imagine anything worse than being Rupert’s wife.
Passing by the library door, Cass heard her name mentioned
and could not resist hesitating to see who was speaking. If she could only find
Wyatt alone, perhaps she could make him understand the desperation of her
plight. She was more than certain he had no love for Catherine, or she for him.
More than once she had heard Cat speak of the changes she would make in Merrick
when she was wedded. Cassandra didn’t think Wyatt would approve of his
betrothed’s intentions.
She listened as the first speaker laughed.
“She’s a rare handful, I agree. I’ve heard it said she
accompanies Eddings to the worst hells in town. Have you made a pitch for her
bed yet?”
“Good Lord, no. Maggie would have my eyelashes out. The
Howards never were ones for discretion, and word would be out faster than I
could get between her legs. Besides, I hear she’s promised to Rupert, and he
would take the balls off any man daring to encroach on his territory.”
“I heard him bragging about his latest conquest, but I hadn’t
put the two together. He’s really getting leg-shackled, then? She’s a pretty
piece, but she’ll have horns on his head before the wedding bells quit chiming.
Did you see that gown she had on the other night? It was all I could do to keep
from dragging her into the bushes right there and then.”
“She’s a gauche little devil, admittedly, but what do you
expect? I bet in bed...”
Cheeks flaming, tears burning at her eyes, Cassandra hurried
on. Those who eavesdropped never heard good of themselves, she reminded
herself, but the pain of those insults could not be dismissed as easily.
Gauche! It was bad enough that they thought her free with her favors, but
gauche!
That’s what came of never having a proper debut. Or teacher.
She had done nothing right. It had been a mistake to come. She didn’t belong
here. They had made that plain enough all week. They were all laughing behind
her back.
That made her angry. So Rupert had bragged of his conquests,
had he? Did they all think the daughter of the Marquess of Eddings was so
desperate as to settle for a dissipated baronet with the tongue of an adder?
She would have his scalp first. She would thrust him through with his own sword.
She would carve him into little pieces of bloodied meat not fitting for chicken
feed.
She had to marry
Merrick. That vow arrived in a blinding flash that burned through Cassandra and
brought a sheen of perspiration to her brow. Wyatt would never allow others to
speak of her so. He would cut out their tongues first. They would have to
respect her if she were the Earl of Merrick’s wife.
Her feet fairly flew up the stairs. She had no time left.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. It had become more than obvious
that Wyatt would never do the dishonorable thing and jilt his fiancée for a
wanton hoyden. It was just a matter of planning. She had been in worse
predicaments and managed to wiggle out of them.
It took an hour’s worth of pacing before she had the details
complete. It would work with the right timing. Wyatt would be furious, but she
would deal with that later.
Excitement replaced the shame and anger of earlier. She had
always wondered about the secrets of the marital bed. Perhaps she would find
out. Surely Wyatt thought her as attractive as those two toads in the study
did. That was all that mattered in a marriage anyway.
If Merrick could marry a plain-looking shrew like Catherine,
he should be grateful for the opportunity of someone who would cater to his
every whim. The chance of having a real home and family was worth crawling on
bended knees for, if necessary. In the long run, he’d be far better off with
her.
As she sat down at the narrow desk in her chamber and
scribbled out the missives that
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