Chapter Twenty-Six

The coach arrived at their villa in good time. Cassandra was anxious to inform her brother of the sad news about his wife. It would be a sleepless night and she needed a distraction. Who better to distract than her rake of a husband? It no longer mattered that he didn’t love her, for she loved him. She lied to herself. It did matter. She wanted to hear him say the words more than she wanted air to breathe.

Chester opened the double doors and Gordon handed off his cape to the majordomo. Cassandra ascended the steps with Gordon behind her. She walked the corridor to her suite, opened the door and closed it. She leaned against the gold and white paneled portal and hesitated for some time. She unfastened her cape and laid it carefully on her French Bergère chair in front of her escritoire.

The oval Cheval mirror stood guard in the corner and she gazed at her reflection. Cassandra looked the part of a Duchess of the highest water and she was proud of herself, too. She’d come a long way from the jilted virgin Viscount Fox left behind. Posh on you, Harold Viscount Fox.

Part of her plan to convince the duke to love her was to seduce him in many ways. She’d drawn a risqué sketch of an undergarment she only saw in her dreams. While she was uncomfortable in her nakedness with him, she wanted a bit of mystique. She’d produced the first version of a black, very brief…she didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t a pantalet. It wasn’t a pantaloon. It wasn’t very much of anything. It was a small cover for over her sex entrance, more like a man’s small loincloth. Triangular in shape, it did cover her private part, and was held in place with a corded string both front and back embroidered in rosebuds, except her posterior cheeks were overexposed. It would afford a modest effect for an immodest act. And of course, the rosebuds were embroidered in a strategic place.

She removed her gown, placed it in the armoire and made sure to tuck it in so there could be no creases.

Cassandra undressed and put her undergarments away with care except for the rosebud corset. She found the new panty, as she called it, for lack of any other nomenclature went under the corset, so that from the front, it was quite a vision of French decadence. Her stockings and garters were black. From Madame Claudette she’d ordered a black negligee type wrapper embroidered with red chrysanthemums courtesy of a twelfth century Chinese sketch.

She doused herself with French perfume, took a look in the mirror again, and said a prayer. Dear God, help me make him love me as I love him. So unsure of his love, her heart was torn to pieces. Wasn’t she just a token wife?

She steeled her back, exited her bedroom, and went to his. She gave a slight tap and entered before he could speak. Thank God, he waited for her. He was seated in the settee with the decanters in front of him on the tray. He arose to greet her and extended his hand.

She accepted, flipped partially open her black wrapper, heard his gasp, and leaned over to him, “Do you like what you see, Gordon?”

“Dammit, Cassandra. You undo me.”

“Pour me a drink, your Grace. I need diversion tonight, and I have chosen my rake of a husband to take off my mind my predicament. That’s you, in the case you’ve forgotten. It only gets better.”

“I could never forget you.”

“Good. Then let us proceed. I would like to show you a new garment I’ve created.” She laughed. “Garment is a large word for a tiny piece of cloth without a suitable name.”

He handed her the drink, and sat. “Are you about to perform for me?” his low voice rasped, his smile decadent and obvious.

“May I, your wonderful Grace?” she teased, tantalized, and was ready to proceed.

He rubbed his finger across his mouth. “I’m ready.”

She sat tall, clad in a black stocking, one leg bent and pointed at him. Her toes circled his groin. His grunt was music to her ears. She stood and fully opened her oriental negligee, took the lapels and revealed to him the rosebud corset, the panty cloth, stockings and garter, with both hands and arms in invitation.

“Dammit,” he cursed. “You take my breath away.”

“That’s not the point of this…research.”

“Research?” he asked.

“Yes, I need to have a male reaction.”

“Do you perhaps mean a male erection?”

“Perhaps both. I am such a novice at this. Thank goodness, I have you to experiment with.”

“Experiment?”

“Yes. I am limited by my female sensibilities. One favor, Gordon?”

“And that is?”

“Please be honest. Would you, the greatest, and only, rake I know, pay good blunt to see a women thusly dressed…or undressed?”

“I would kill for you,” was his answer. “Just look what’s happened to me,” he said like a cock of the walk, his gaze at his swollen member.

Cassandra walked toward him, every step an invitation. Left foot. Right foot. Forward. She stood in front of him and moved her shoulders to and fro for him to view her breasts. “Is something missing? Have I neglected some enticement? I see you do not reach for me. Oh, dear, what can I do to make it more delectable?”

“You can mount me right now and put me out of my misery.”

She wiggled in front of him. “Do you like the new panty?”

“I can’t wait to rip it off.”

“Gordon, please pay attention. The idea is to delay…the pleasure so the ecstasy takes hold and summons your masculine member to do its duty.”

“Duty, you say. I believe I’ve complied. More aptly put, a man’s pleasure.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

“Whatever God, Christian or not, who graced me with you, I will praise.”

She pulled back from him. “Gordon, no paganism, if you please. I will tend to your needs, as soon as—”

“Soon as you touch me with your golden hands.”

She hesitated. “Do you feel we can make money for poor orphans if I…we…sell this creation.”

“I would orphan myself for you. Cassandra, have mercy on your poor husband.”

“Very well, you may have your wicked way with me, but I will extract the same pleasure…from you.”

“Start now, I’ll be grateful.” He swooped upon her like a hungry man. “You are magnificent, my lovely Cassandra.”

“Only magnificent?” She pressed her body against his, and conveyed him to his bed.

“I would beggar myself just for the opportunity to kiss your breasts.”

“They are for your pleasure and to make you so weak you would want them in your mouth forever. It would please me.”

“You are a sorceress.”

“No, in actuality, I am your love slave. Do with me as your wish, husband.”

And he did.

****

The Tittle Tattler, Morning Herald, and the Morning Chronicle newspapers were ironed and folded in the dining room, where the duke and the family usually broke their fast. Althorn was the first to arrive and partook of his usual breakfast of soft boiled eggs, a rasher of lean bacon, one slice of toast, fruit, and cocoa.

Cassandra had a fitful night and didn’t want to wake. She was the last to be seated. She and Lady Madelaine usually had oats, cream, fruit, and hot tea. The children usually ate with their nanny and Miss Dutton in the upper bedroom next to Cassandra’s, now known to all as the nursery schoolroom.

From the Tattler Tales. The King’s Final Ball was an outstanding success. Our Majesty, not to be outdone at this fete, had twenty-eight courses of food for his one hundred forty elite guests. The Belle of the Ball was the lady in the racy scarlet dress with her feathered plume, the flaxen-haired Duchess Althorn, who was seen on the balcony underneath the stars, in the embrace of a man. Lest you misunderstand, it was none other than her husband, Althorn, where they danced and kissed many times. What a novelty they presented. A man so enamored of his new wife, he growled at any of the men on her dance card. In addition, we even got a peek at the black rosebud corset when he removed her fichu. Viva La Parisian!

After breakfast, Cassandra and the duke drove to Earl Montgomery’s home. The sole footman jumped to the walk them to depart. Althorn walked her to the door.

Her hand shook uncontrollably.

He spoke in a whisper. “I’ll be here in the carriage, Cassandra. You do the right thing for your brother’s honor.” He kissed her forehead as the butler ushered her inside.

“Good morning, is Brent available to see me?” Her voice was almost inaudible.

“Lady Cassandra, he is in the study. May I conduct you there?”

She nodded and followed the servant who tapped on the door and was told to enter.

Cassandra crossed into the room. “Morning, Brent.” She stood tall. “May I sit for a moment?”

“What a pleasant surprise, Cassandra. Do come in. Felicity isn’t at home, but would you care for tea?” His was such a handsome face and how she loved every wrinkle and furrow on it. She needed a full dose of courage to tell him the sad accusation.

“No, Althorn waits for me.” When the door closed, she ventured forward.

“Why doesn’t he come in? Is there a problem?”

“At the King’s Ball last night, Samantha and I were in the retiring room…” The words spilled out and she related them in articulate detail. She paused in between. The happiness on his face changed to a shocked expression.

“Cassandra, if you were a man, I would probably challenge you to a duel even though I’ve suspicions about my wife. You are my beloved sister and what hurts me most is that I haven’t been a better brother to you. I sat here in thought before you came in, it might be a smart idea to hire a Bow Street Runner to investigate Felicity’s activities. I hesitated because such action would indicate I didn’t trust my wife. Well, I don’t, yet it’s hard to admit I created this problem when I chose an actress for a wife.” He arose from his chair, and walked toward her. He extended his hands and pulled her to him. “You’re the good sister and I’ve been a rotten brother.”

“No, Brent. It’s not so.”

He hugged her. “I’d like to apologize for my ill treatment of you. I allowed Felicity to sway my affection. Do you know how jealous she was of my concern for you?”

Cassandra looked up at the brother she adored. “We will always be sister and brother. We have a bond stronger than any Gordian knot. Please don’t do anything foolish, will you?” She rested her head on his chest; small tears fell on his waistcoat. She touched her hand to her cheeks to blot them.

“No, I accepted a while back what my next step would be, but around each bend I hoped the road would change. It didn’t.”

“I’m sorry for you,” she murmured.

“Sister, you caused me to ponder when you were little and leaped to the big oak tree outside your bedroom window. You had a misstep and you hung on to the limb for dear life. I came to your rescue and held you in my arms while we waited for a ladder. I was thirteen then and I made you promise you’d never try such foolishness again without me there to protect you.”

“I remember it well.” She tugged on his waistcoat again.

“You’ve given me information that may save me from a precipitous fall at Felicity’s hands.”

He went to her, and kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I need a favor, Cassandra.”

“It is done.”

“No. Speak to your husband first. I’d like you to take care of Alfie until this mess with Felicity is straightened out. I could divorce her, but that would require an action of Parliament. She has cuckolded me and the world will know about it. I don’t care to be the laughing stock of London. Fortunately, I hold the purse strings, but I wouldn’t put it past her to harm Alfie.”

“I know Althorn will agree. Alfie spends much of his time with us anyway. He loves the puppies and his life at our villa. I will convey your request in any event to my husband. He has offered his assistance in any manner you need.”

“Thank him for me. It won’t be required at the moment.”

He walked her to the door. “What I’ve appreciated most, Cassandra, is that you took care of Alicia yourself without a thought of what it could do to your reputation. Nadeen was my fiancéwhen she met her soldier, but I’ve had fond memories of her. I loved her first, but she loved me not. I wonder if I’m destined for heartbreak.”

Brent walked her to the corridor. “Go, now, before Felicity returns. I don’t want her to connect any actions I take with you.”

He opened the door to find Felicity and Gordon at the doorstep.

“Montgomery,” Althorn said in a strong tone. “Is Cassandra ready? We have to return to the villa.” He turned to Felicity. “Our home is a happy nest of activity. My mother sends her regards to all. Come, Cassandra, let’s depart.”

He doffed his hat and Cassandra joined him down the steps and they entered his carriage.

Before the door closed, Montgomery said, “Felicity, I’d like you to join me in my study.”