Chapter Fourteen

After a deliberate loss at cards with His Majesty, the duke completed his obligations and sought Lady Constance. He found her in conversation with two gentlemen who gave way to him when he joined the group.

He bowed. “I apologize for my neglect, but his Majesty does enjoy his win at cards, and I could not deny him his pleasure.” He extended his arm, enjoined her hand possessively, and guided her to the cloakroom.

They made the short ride to her residence in silence. Upon arrival, he descended to escort her to her front entrance. The breeze of the cool ocean air fueled his senses. He faulted himself for the unpleasant evening. Many apologies would be in order. Lady Constance coyly invited him in. He turned and signaled the coachman to wait.

He noted her butler wasn’t in attendance, but champagne cooled in a silver bucket in the drawing room. A generous assortment of brandies and port stood in readiness. He placed his things on the side table. She poured with sensual innuendo and handed him a snifter of brandy she knew he preferred. The research on his likes and dislikes evidently were well documented. He sat next to her and didn’t speak.

“You are still in your somber mood, your Grace. What can I do to succor you?” The lady moved to face him and as she did so, her shoulder strap slid down. He was used to women who manipulated costumes to bare skin to encourage seduction. Constance reached to pull at the satin string. He stopped her. “No, it suits you well.”

He embraced her and removed the other strap. Enraged with combustible anger and desire, he savaged her lips, then her neck and each earlobe. He was passionate, but it wasn’t Constance his lips kissed, but Cassandra’s. The lady he held responded with practiced ardor. He led her upstairs to her bedchamber where he clambered out of his formalwear. She stood and faced him, available and inviting. He partook of a glass of liquor on the bedside table and strode toward her. In one swift motion ripped off her gown and unlaced her corset and undergarments. All his clothes he deposited on a bedside chair.

Althorn saw she startled for a minute seeing his bold tattoo. He lowered his gaze. The duke fought his own demons; he guessed Constance knew how to handle them, and like mythical beasts they needed appeasement. The tattoo reminded him of his life in Barbados, a continent and lifetime away.

Althorn tried not to act the savage; he held much inside him. His body demanded quick release. There was no romance, just passionate anger—and hunger for someone else, not the woman in his arms.

He thought of his Cassandra, at how he’d chastised her cold, calculated demeanor. When she first made the offer of a marriage. Look at me now. He prepared to take what Lady Constance offered. It was wrong. Was this what love was about? Yet he was ungratified. Did he not behave like a licentious stud?

It wasn’t enough. He wanted someone else. “Constance, I apologize for your torn dress. This is not who I am. I beg your indulgence and must leave.”

He retrieved his clothes, dressed in haste while she watched in disbelief. “What have I done to cause you to leave…now?” She started toward him.

“No. Stop. You’re any man’s dream, but tonight this isn’t where I belong.”

He deposited his diamond ring on the bedside next to where she stood. “You should be able to replace your gown a few times with this.” Althorn wasn’t proud of himself and his actions this evening. He vowed he would never seek her again.

His faithful coachman awaited and transported him home. The duke was in a foul mood when he slipped into his bed. He would be in need of his morning constitutional along the beach. The night did not dawn quickly and his restlessness fatigued him. He tossed and turned until sleep conquered him.

Daylight beckoned and without haste, Althorn donned his breeches and a light shirt, called Clayo, and they walked along the jetties. After the usual game of ‘fetch and throw’, he sat at the end of the rocks, and talked to the animal as if she understood every word he spoke.

The restlessness and discontent wrought havoc within him. This morning it was worse. Why? Because it was the wrong woman for the wrong reason? Because he wanted someone else more? Because he declared he didn’t love Cassandra? Yet why was he so jealous and possessive? He wished her a good hunt as a sarcastic parting remark. She had the right to get her life in order for her ward, while his life dissipated in front of him. Little satisfied him. He no longer enjoyed the seduction of women for the sake of the sex act. It wasn’t love making. He wanted desperately to make love with Cassandra and show her the kind of exploration that burns the soul and empowers the heart, but he turned her away afraid of what love could do.

“Well, Clayo, do you have any suggestions?”

The hound edged closer at the sound of her name, and rested her head on his thigh.

“Come, it’s time to return home.” They padded the pink sand beach and came through the entrance. Clayo went to the kitchen in search of food and her babies. Althorn went to the drawing room in search of the all too elusive peace.

His mother rejoined him after her rest and took to read her paper.

Lady Madelaine motioned to him with her lorgnette, handed him the paper and pointed to a specific section.

The duke sank in his chair, “Now what, Mother?”

Tattler Tales: What notorious Duke of A and privileged Ambassador PF had words over a certain Lady CM in the gardens of the King’s Pavilion home last night? A duel almost ensued and it was noted the lady ran from the duke for his impropriety toward her. Her brother, the Earl M came to the rescue and brought common sense to the situation. More on this tomorrow…by the way, the black corset is sold out.”

“Yes, it was I, Mother.” He searched for other words. “I misbehaved and upset Cassandra with my sharp tongue. Jealousy enraged me that she could even think to kiss that continental fop. If this is what my England has come to, it is a sorry state of affairs.”

His mother’s eyes were an unusual blue, why had he not noticed before? Clearly he was self-centered.

“I will have to take better care in Parliament and represent my people with honor. I believe my life is about to change—perhaps for the better.”

The dowager reached for her parchment book and scribbled with a hand that trembled. Good, my son. It is time.

“You know, Mother, it’s occurred to me I do miss your lectures. Please learn to speak again—for me?”

His mother blew him a kiss, caressed his cheek, and nodded as she returned to her sitting room and her embroidery. It helped mobility with her fingers, and was highly recommended by her physician—and Cassandra.

He sought the privacy and quiet of his library, reviewed the past day and night’s events. It would be necessary to apologize to Cassandra for his misbehavior the night before. Her brother informed him never to call again. Propriety indicated he would have to ask permission from the earl to speak to her. It was a hard pill to swallow, but he would do it. Pride had taken a fall…and it humbled him.

Althorn penned a short note for delivery to the earl wherein he requested the opportunity to discuss an important matter with regard to his sister. The last sentence read, “It would be appreciated if you would hear me out. I await your reply.” He signed it with his ducal seal.

Impatient to hear from Cassandra’s brother, he spent time with his mother who progressed well in most areas except speech.

A servant knocked on his door and was told to enter. On the tray, was a note addressed to him. It simply read, Duke of Althorn, this afternoon at three o’clock, I will make myself available. Signed by the earl’s seal. He looked at his pocket watch and noted it was two thirty.

Upon his arrival at the Castle Inn, an attendant took charge of the horse and carriage. He walked up the steps to the main lobby. A servant led him to a private study where Montgomery was seated.

The duke stood in front of him and spoke in a clear somber tone. He sat and ignored the direct cut. “Do not rise. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“You wished to speak to me?” questioned the earl.

“I have come to speak to Cassandra about a number of important matters. The first is to apologize for my misconduct last night.”

“This can be arranged. I expect appropriate conduct today. She’s in residence in the nursery with the children. And the other matters?” The earl’s voice was brisk and his demeanor stern.

“I would like to propose marriage. The details are known to she and I.” The brows of the man in front of him elevated upward.

“After last night, why?” he asked. “I find it hard to believe you would need her dowry.”

“True, I do not require one. She may do as she pleases—perhaps extend it to her ward? I find your sister and I are well suited. My mother is fond of her, as am I.”

The silence in the room spoke volumes between the two men.

“Fond is a rather vague sentiment, I would say.” Brent’s hand played with the desk pad as he arranged and rearranged the leather cover. “Althorn, does love enter into the equation?”

“Love has to start somewhere, Montgomery. Many a marriage has started as an agreement, an offer or a marriage of convenience or inconvenience. As men we are aware of this.”

“Another suitor has requested her hand, also.”

“Is it from Sir Fairbanks?” His insides churned.

“No.”

It was the duke’s turn to raise his brows in surprise. “I see. Has she accepted the suitor?”

“I believe Cassandra indicated she would take it under consideration. If you waited any longer, it might be too late, sir.” Her brother nodded with a sly grin.

The duke gave a brief smile. “May I see her now?” he asked with impatience. “Who is the other suitor?”

“Marquess of Ashcombe, cousin to the King.”

“He’s a decent chap, but much older than she,” Althorn replied and found he meant it. “Will you take me to her, and may she and I speak in private?”

Her brother stood, walked around the desk, and opened the door. “Follow me.” Again, his voice showed no emotion at all. Was it a good sign or an omen?

They ascended the steps to their private quarters in silence and went to the nursery. Montgomery’s wife was nowhere to be seen. Giggles and laughter came from the nursery along with one melodious voice who sang nursery rhymes. The earl knocked before he entered. “Cassandra, you have a visitor who wishes to speak to you in private.”

She whirled around, and when she saw the duke, her face blanched. She turned to her brother in question.

“I have given him permission. Please use the small drawing room. I will be nearby should you need me. Althorn has assured me his conduct will be exemplary.”

She breathed a long sigh. “Excuse me, children. I will return shortly.”

Alicia ran to the duke. “How is Clayo?” Her face was animated as the precocious child smiled at him.

“How are you to address the duke?” Cassandra reprimanded.

Alicia’s hands went to her mouth and her face appeared to plead forgiveness. “Your Grace.” She curtsied.

He smiled at the youngster. “My little lady, you will see all of them soon. It’s up to Auntie Cassandra.”

“Your Grace, what about me? Will I be the second to know?” asked the winsome four-year old Alfie.

“You have my word on it. We men have to stand in arms together.” He winked to them and followed Cassandra to the private room.

She walked in veritable silence and closed the door. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence, your Grace?” She motioned for him to sit. He chose the chair nearest the settee, where she seated herself.

“Cassandra, I…”

“I’d prefer you call me Lady Montgomery.” Her voice was void of emotion. So not like her.

“Yes, I know. Kindly let me finish before you interrupt again.” If the tiny smile that crossed her mouth was any indication, he knew she would make this difficult for him.

“I wish to apologize for my behavior last night. At best, it was in poor taste. I regret my words. I mean this with sincerity if you would be kind enough to accept it.” He kept his tone soft and genuine.

“I accept, Sir.” She arose to leave. “The children await me.”

“Kindly sit, Cassandra. There’s more.”

Now, he stood and paced back and forth “I understand a lot more than I did a few days ago about your affection for your ward, and your fear of your sister-in-law’s threats to you and the child.” He stopped, and crouched low in front of her.