"En garde!"
Gripping her epee tightly, Cassy flexed her knees and lifted her left arm in the air as her instructor, M. Fournier, had taught her. Her throat closed with nervous apprehension as the small, wiry Frenchman assumed the first position. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the ballroom, glittering on the blade of the slender epee she clutched in her right hand. It seemed to sparkle with deadly intent.
"No, no," he said in a despondent manner. "You are holding the blade wrong." Because of his high, nasal accent, it sounded like he had said, "None, none. Hue are olding ze blade wrong."
A large mat had been spread on the floor in the ballroom where she received her fencing lessons, and the instructor had inked a mark on its surface to indicate where she was to stand. Cassy tried to keep her stockinged feet near the mark and concentrate on M. Fournier at the same time.
This was her first lesson, and she wore cork told on the blunt end of her blade, as well as a mask and padded vest. It was de rigueur, Fournier insisted, for his lordship to be well protected.
Still, Cassy could not help a chill of fright as she faced him with determination to prove herself worthy. Her mind was consumed with a fierce hunger to prove herself. Her head swam with his instructions on where to place her feet, and how to hold her body, and she tried to remember it all as she waited for what Fournier had refered to as thrust, or was that a feint? Whichever, she was to then parry, sliding her blade up and under his and turning it away without harm. It seemed simple enough.
But it wasn't. Because she also messed it up. She went past her line and it nicked her sending her to the floor. Fournier looked most upset as he helped her up from the floor, and erupted into a steam of french that she didn't understand.
Cassy gazed at him helplessly until he subsided and said more calmly, "Non, non, my lord, you must avoid ze blade, not seek it out!"
"I was," she murmured sheepishly. "Or I thought I was."
"Sacrebleu!" Fournier muttered, and wiped his face with a handkerchief before indicating they were to begin again.
"Ze art of fencing is a delicate one," he said, keeping his eyes on her and bringing the blade up slowly. "You must regard ze blade as an extension of your own arm, not otherwise. It moves with you, and must be carried with the movement of your feet, my lord."
Her subsequent attempts left Fournier in such a rage that he quit her lessons half an hour before he was supposed to do so. Sheldon signed his regret and accepted Fournier's scathing comments on Lord Levington's inability to wield an epee with any Grace or skill. Cassy stood by in glum silence. So much for impressing Eastland with her skill at fencing. Perhaps there was something she could excel at well enough to take his mind off his objective.
It was not, unfortunately, her equestrian skills.
Garbed in her new garments for which she had been measured by a tailor who had become quite nonplussed, then sympathetic when lord Levington had informed him of a tragic injury that left a certain portion of the anatomy very ticklish, Cassy strode unhappily toward the stables, where she was to meet Eastland that afternoon. Her new boots fit perfectly, which she regarded as only a minor point in her favor. The bootmaker had informed Eastland that his new ward had very slender feet for a youth, and the Duke had seemed to find that irritating, too.
Smith had Black saddled and ready, and was standing with him inside a railed enclosure, next to the stable. She strode toward the big black stallion with firm steps. She could see the duke from one corner of her eyes as he stood talking with Pym, the head groom, who was attired in a soft tweed jacket and felt hat. Eastland was bare headed, and the sun glided his head with a golden sheen that made her breath catch. He was really too handsome to be as arrogant and hateful as he was. And of course, he was English instead of American.
When she reached the horse, she asked Smith softly, "is there anything else I should know before I ride him?"
"Aye, prayers," Smith said with a solemn shake of his head, then added quickly, "just didn't kick him in the flanks, my lord. It'll put you on the ground in a wink if you do."
"Where are the flanks?" Cassy asked desperately, but the duke was approaching and Smith only had time to point.
"So, Levington," the duke said, coming to stand beside her. "Show us what you can do."
Cassy managed a weak smile and a nod. "I'll do my best, your grace."
His eyebrow lifted with cool arrogance. "I expect no less from you, Levington."
Cassy turned blindly, barely remembering to put her left foot in the stirrup, and reached up to grab hold of the saddle to heave herself up. The stallion snorted and danced nervously to one side, forcing her to stumble after him in a kind of hop. Her face flamed, and she gripped the riding crop she held tightly in her right hand, determined not to allow the horse to humiliate her in front of the duke.
Smith held the horse's head, and was whispering to him quietly, stroking his muzzle to calm him. Cassy could feel the stallion's muscles ripple with agitation, and had to swallow her fear. It would never do to let the horse or the duke know how frightened she was.
"Your grace, perhaps lord Levington will be more suited to a mount more tame than this," Pym said nervously, eyeing Black with a trepidatious look.
"Lord Levington is actually an excellent rider," Eastland said with a sardonic smirk. "Or at least that's what I've been told to believe."
Swallowing her nervousness, Cassy focused on the task at hand. This time, her effort to mount the horse was more successful, and she swung atop his back with a fairly graceful motion. Smith gave her the reins and she took them in one hand, inhaling deeply to steady her nerves as she lightly touched her heals to the stallions sides.
For a moment, Black reared viciously. Cassy felt her heart lurch to her throat, and she tightened her grip on the reins while nudging it slowly in the side. To her surprise, the horse settled, starting off at a slow, sedate walk, circling the open enclosure at a smooth pace. Cassy began to relax slightly, trying to remember Smith's advice.
"Heels in, toes out, balance on the balls of my feet, move with the motion of the animal . . ." She muttered under her breath, and the stallion responded beautifully.
Cassy flashed the duke a triumphant glance, and saw his slight smile of approval. Behind him, Pym was grinning widely at her. Her heart leaped. The sun seemed suddenly brighter, and the wind softer. At last, something had gone right for her. The knot in her chest loosened, and she relaxed into the saddle more.
She could feel the smooth, rhythmic movements of the horse beneath her, and tried to concentrate on her balance and form. What was it Smith had said? Something about keeping a firm hand on the reins, but not too firm, and only increase the pressure of the knee if a greater pace was desired.
After circling the paddock twice, Cassy brought the stallion up toward the rail fence with no trouble at all. She pulled back gently on the reins and the animal stopped almost immediately. It had been a huge success so far, and she would be glad to dismount.
Master Pym, impressed in spite of himself, half turned to the duke to congratulate him on his ward's gentle hand. A sudden gust of wind picked Pym's hat from his head before he could catch it, and whirled it into the air. It sailed beyond his reach, skimming past the stallion's nose, startling the animal.
Suddenly, nothing was alright again.
Cassy barely heard Pym's shout, or saw Smith run toward her as the horse gave an almighty leap, hooves pounding into the ground as it reared. She saw very little suddenly, but a whirling blur of trees, sky, and hard brown earth. Somehow, she would never know quite how, she managed to cling to the saddle with both hands, dropping her ridding crop in the process, losing the reins, and her seat. The cantle of the saddle prodded her stomach and her legs draped over the rump of the horse in a most undignified manner, slamming her bootheels against his flanks.
Black reared straight up then landed on his forefeet with a slamming jerk that jarred Cassy's teeth and made even her eyeballs dance. When he pivoted on his front legs, his rump in the air, Cassy slid forward with a swiftness that was startling. Her nose rammed against the cantle of the saddle and forced a shrill shriek from her lungs.
Black took off like an arrow, shooting past the short fence and galloping away to freedom. Smith yelled wildly behind her, but they were already several yards away, heading towards a small cluster of trees. Terrified that they’ll crash into one of them, Cassy gave a mad tug at the reins, forcing the horse into an aggressive halt. It’s rear limbed jerked up, and suddenly Cassy was flung from the saddle and straight into the trunk of the tree. Her vision darkened, and for one horrible moment she imagined that she was dead. But then her vision flooded, first with leaves and then the roots of the tree. And then there was Black, charging at her with its head lowered.
It was Eastland who saved her from complete ignominy, grasping the stallions dangling reins suddenly, pulling it to a fierce halt. Smith grasped Cassy around her waist and tried to convince her to stand it she could.
"Lord Levington," she dimly heard him saying, "can you stand? Can you move, my lord . . ."
Cassy gradually became aware that the stallion had stopped his series of hops and leaps, and recognized Smith's voice. She sagged into the stable boy's arms with a gratitude she had not known she could possess. Her nose hurt terribly, and she put up one hand to touch it. Her fingers came away smeared with blood.
"Oh! I t'ink I b'oke my node!" She wailed.
Looking up, Cassy happened to meet the Duke's frowning gaze, and knew her moment of triumph was over too soon. He shoved the stallion's reins toward Smith and told him to take the horse back to the paddock, then strode to Cassy.
"Let me see, Levington," he commanded, and she slowly took her hands away from her face. "Don't look so stricken. A broken nose might lend some masculinity to your face," the Duke said dryly, and Cassy shuddered.
She shut her eyes tightly as the duke examined her nose and proclaimed it bruised but unbroken. He pressed his handkerchief into her hand and told her to use it to stop the bleeding. Hot tears stung her eyelids, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw from the Duke's face that he wasn't at all pleased.
Behind him, Master Pym was still laughing. He had shouted himself hoarse, and deep chuckles still shook his stout body, renewing each time he glanced toward Cassy. It did not take much intelligence to see that Eastland was furious with her performance. His face was dark with anger and his green eyes glittered coldly.
"Go into the house, Levington," the duke ordered her. "And tell Smith you are to be rubbed down with liniment."
Backing away, Cassy knew she would never pass along the last, but did not seem to be in time to argue with him. She fled from the scene, still smarting from her failure and her sore nose.
She didn't see the duke round on Master Pym, nor did she hear his low, short words, bitten off in a cold tone that ended the head groom's laughter instantly.
"I consider your reactions those of a fool, Pym. Your carelessness could have cost me a good horse, not to mention my ward's safety. You are dismissed immediately. See Sheldon about your wages.
"But your grace!" Pym began in shocked amazement, then stopped when the duke turned back to him with narrowed eyes and a thinned mouth. "Nothing, your grace," Pym muttered, looking away. "Sorry your grace."
Cassy ran and ran, hot tears burning at the corners of her eyes. She hated herself for crying, and she hated herself for hating herself. She ran until the stables were far behind her, and she continued to run until her lungs burned and her legs gave out underneath here. There she remained, a pitiful sight, curling up into a ball and sobbing her heart out.
Never had she been humiliated before in her entire life. It wasn’t the fact that her lie had come undone that pained her so. It was the disgust she saw in his eyes. The way he looked at her like she was a pathetic little child he’d been unfortunate enough to be saddled with. She saw the embarrassment reflected in his eyes, and it’d burned a hole through her. Why, oh why, did she ever agree to come to England in the first place? She should have stayed in Virginia, where life was so much more simple and a lot more bearable.
The sun was beginning to dip when Cassy finally gathered herself, sitting on the grass and curling her knees up to her chest. Her face was wet with tears, her eyes swollen and her broken nose throbbing painfully. Gingerly, she reached out to touch it , wincing as it smarted.
A cold wind blew past suddenly, and she looked up to stare at the small lake in front of her, the water glittering with the last light of dusk. She’d never been to this part of the duke’s estate, and she took her time watching the water, ignoring the dull pain all over her face. The grass was cool on her feet, and the wind from the lake smelled sweet and earthy, relaxing her agitation. The water rippled, splashing this way and that. And across it, several yards away, an old manor loomed in the distance.
Perhaps all this would have been better if she’d simply agreed with master Nicholas and come to England to wed the duke. Jonathan wouldn’t have gone through all these humiliations she had to suffer everyday. He would have excelled in the dukes eyes, earning his approval almost immediately.
A few more months, she told herself. That was all it would take.
Suddenly, Cassy felt the urge to swim. She looked around briefly, making sure she was alone. It wouldn’t do if she were found like this. Hurriedly, before the moment passed, she stripped out of her dirty clothes and plunged into the water. The coldness frightened her, biting at her skin and surrounding her completely. She sank into the water, allowing the silence underneath to hug her. When she came up for air, it was a welcome reprieve, and she felt fresh; clean. The water seemed to have seeped into her skin, cleaning her out from within.
And then she saw him.
He was sitting on the other side, on the grass just like she’d been a while ago. He was watching her, and he knew she knew he was watching her. He was too far away for her to see his face, but she could guess the look in his eyes.
Even from afar, Colin Geoffrey looked just the way she remembered. He was as relaxed as one could be, his self confidence traveling across the water and hitting her square in the face.
The fear came slowly, because she’d been afraid ever since she peeled off her clothes. She’d expected that she’ll be found, and thus when he saw her, the fear was slow in arriving.
But then Colin did something surprising.
He stood up, stared at her for several seconds, and then he brought his finger to his lips. Cassy watched the movement with a detached awe, unable to do anything else but watch him.
And just like that, he turned around and left.
Eastland found himself in a towering rage as he strode toward the manor with heavy footsteps, each one heavier and more pronounced than the last. His brows were knitted in annoyance, and he screamed at the doorman when he took half a second too long to open the door. He growled at the steward when he entered his study as well, when the fool had the audacity to ask if anything was wrong with him. "Get out!" He pointed to the door with a fire in his eyes that caused the young lad to take off in a split second. Fuming, Henry sat at his table, surrounded in a cloud of his own contempt. Since when did he allow himself to be irritated past the point of self control by anyone? Not to talk of the foolish boy who couldn’t seem to do anything right. He cursed lightly as he strode to the window, unable to sit still while he anger continued to boil within him. Levington just had such a vulnerable, female look about him. His shy, wide blue eyes, and the way his lashes lowered whenever he though
"You're a fidgety boy, aren't you?" The Dowager Duchess of Eastland remarked, impaling Cassy with a steely glare."I'm sorry, your grace," she muttered and stared glumly down at her untouched dinner plate. Footmen were still serving a variety of meats from salmon to mutton, along with an astonishing array of vegetables, sausages, pickles, and creamed dishes to tempt the appetite. Across the table, numerous conversations flew in all directions, most too confusing for her to understand."Don't apologise," Eastland's Aunt said in a stern voice. "It's a sign of weakness."Cassy glanced up at the jewelled, rather portly woman with a surprised look, and nodded. "Yes, your grace.""And don't be so mealy-mouthed." The duchess snapped. "Where's your spirit?"A rush of resentment washed through her, and Cassy's eyes glittered as she said evenly, "I've been made to understand that spirit is not as important as obedience, your grace. If it offends you, it does not offend the duke.""I see," the do
Cassy watched with mounting horror as Sir Geoffrey walked into the dining hall with an innocent smile on his face. Behind him walked Colin, handsome as ever, his smile a lazy one. Cassy felt her chest tighten at the sight of him, and the entire hall suddenly felt much too small. "No need for the warm welcome," sir Geoffrey said as he stopped right next to the duke. "We just thought we'd swing by since it appears that we didn't receive an invitation."Eastland flexed his fingers slowly, his rage mounting slowly. Cassy could see the irritation in his eyes, and she could tell that he'd deliberately refused to invite the viscount. "Sir Geoffrey," the duchess said with an exaggerated friendliness, "forgive my oversight. I had assumed that, being my nephew’s nearest neighbor, he would have invited you personally. Invitations were sent out to guests who were far away, and I was careless in my assumptions. Forgive my mistake.""I think nothing of it, your grace," sir Geoffrey said with a flo
Henry Blake, odd as it may seem, did not love Rebecca Spencer, nor was he particularly enamoured of her ripe charms. He'd been tired of her for some time and had welcomed the news of her engagement to Viscount Ravanel. It would effectively remove her from his life, he'd hoped.He should have known better, Henry reflected cynically as he removed Rebecca's arms from around his neck and kept his steely grip on her wrists. She gazed up at him with a pout, and let her curves lean forward to brush against his chest. His body immediately responded in spite of his irritation, and Rebecca knew it."See?" She whispered in a triumphant voice, rubbing her hips suggestively against his arousal. "You still want me!""Maybe I'm just too accustomed to having you, Becky," he said with a shrug. "It's not as if we haven't spent a great many hours in bed together.""Didn't you enjoy those times, Henry?""Immensely.""There's no reason why you can't continue," she murmured throatily and leaned into him eve
Cassy sat huddled in one corner of the black lacquered carriage that sped towards London. Eastland sat opposite her, his long legs thrust out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, looking every inch the splendid lord he was.Yet for the first time, she found it hard to admire him. He'd not spoken a civil word to her in a week and until he'd had Sheldon inform her that she was to accompany him to London, had not deigned to take notice of her at all. It was as if Lord Levington, his ward, has ceased to exist for him.Now they were going to London and she had no idea why. It did not seem like a good idea to inquire, with him gazing out the window and ignoring her. She shifted on the plush velvet squabs and wished she'd never agreed to decided to England. Anything else would have been better than that.Only now she was here, and mired in the masquerade, and did not know how to extricate herself. She was afraid of Eastland. Yes, it was true. Oddly enough, she wasn't as afraid of the th
"You... You’re a... a,""I’m a girl," Cassy finished for her, daring to laugh. Anne staggered away from her, confusion suddenly written all over her face. Cassy felt her breath returning to normal almost immediately, although Anne was quite far from there. "A girl?" she blurted out suddenly, still making no attempt to cover her unclad state. "It would appear so," Cassy replied. "My lord, is there... did lady Herenton put you up to this?" she asked. "Did she pay you to humiliate me like this?""I can assure you that there has been a bit misunderstanding," Cassy said quickly. "And none of this was at your expense.""Then explain this," she grated. "Explain how you are a girl, and how you managed to fool them into thinking you’re not.""You might want to sit down for this," Cassy said. "It’s sort of a long story, and I don’t even know where to begin."Anne eyed her suspiciously, clearly debating whether she could trust this strange woman or not. It was bad enough that she had to discov
Life at Eastland hall had never been better. Cassy found it a shocking turnaround that she could actually smile now, and she was actually beginning to grow fond of the place. Even more shocking, perhaps, was the sudden improvement in everything the Duke laid out for her. The activities which she’d failed at earlier, now seemed like mere chores That’s she could expertly breeze through. It was almost as if the Levington that had gone to London with the duke was replaced by another one, more apt and skilled than the other one. Cassy slowly began to understand the intricacies of fending which her tutor desperately wanted her to understand. "Yes, yes, my lord," monsieur Fournier would exclaim excitedly whenever she successfully parried his thrusts or when her blade would skim right under his arm and straight at his rib. "Zat is exactly what I was saying."Tutoring went well enough, and she soon began to catch up on the many subjects which she was supposed to learn. Her tutors noticed this
Everything started to fall apart from the moment Colin kissed her. It was on a Saturday evening, right after he’d finished teaching her how a man was supposed to shake. Cassy’s grip hadn’t been firm enough, and he’d taught her how to position her fingers, even slightly squeezing the person’s fingers. And then he’d pulled her in and kissed her on the cheek. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but it was dangerously close to her mouth and Cassy had bristled at the sudden invasion. "What do you think you’re doing?" she asked, shoving him away. Colin regarded her coolly. "I didn’t mean to offend you," he said quietly. "I was just...""Don’t ever do that again," she said. "Just don’t."He stepped back, stung by her anger. "Cassandra, I..."Cassy ran from the spot, leaving him staring after her with a confused expression. She ran all the way back to the house, willing herself not to cry. She’d known Colin was attracted to her; had suspected it from the first day he found out her secr
April 25, 1822"Twins, your grace," the physician said, smiling wearily at the man sprawled in a chair in his study. "Boys. And healthy they are, bawling their lungs out."Henry stood up slowly, running a hand over the half grown stubble on his jaw. Twins? Boys?"How is my wife?" he asked after an instant of stunned silence."Very tired, as she's so small and it was a hard birth for her, but she's well. There seem to be no problems.""There better not be," Henry growled, fixing the doctor with an intent gaze. "You are to remain here until she has completely recovered. I've heard too many times about women who have died within a few days after a normal birth, and I won't have that happen to Cassandra.""But your grace, I have other patients who need me," the doctor protested. "Lady Auberly is nearly..."Henry wasn't listening. He strode across the room and out the door of his study, taking the stairs two at a time. He eased into Cassy's room, his eyes trying to adjust to the dim light.
"I love you so much. . . ."His kisses seared her flesh like glowing brands as his mouth moved around her lips. "You're the best thing to had ever happen to me," he murmured against her lips, before capturing them yet again in a searing kiss.It had never occurred to Cassy that he would want her to touch him as he touched her, and the knowledge was thrilling. She put her hands against his tanned chest, slowly spreading her fingers, amazed when her simple touch made his breath catch.Feeling as if her heart would break with the love bursting in it, Cassy answered him with a melting kiss. It was answer enough.Still holding her, he moved onto his side, then he combed his fingers through her rumpled, satiny hair and brushed a tender kiss against her temple. Cassy’s lashes fluttered up and he felt as if he would drown in the deep blue pools of her eyes."How do you feel?" she teased, smiling as she asked him the same question he had once asked her. With tender solemnity, he replied, "I f
Henry took her home that evening. Cassy smiled all the way back home, looking at him as though he would disappear from her sight. "What is it?" he asked, smiling at her. "Nothing," she replied. "I just want to look at you."His aunt was much too happy to see them returned, and she held Cassy for a bit longer than expected. Jonathan had a long talk with his sister the next day when he arrived, and for the first time since her marriage to Henry, he actually smiled at her husband. "Isn't she amazing?" Adeline asked as she stood beside him by the large hall, both of them gazing at Cassy adoringly as she spoke with the servants; Sheldon and Gabriel included. Ever since they came back, the atmosphere of the estate had changed to a cheerful chatter."She is," Henry agreed without a second thought, and he missed the smile that spread across Adeline's face. "I had no idea she would be this forgiving.""You think she has forgiven you?" Adeline asked swiftly, gazing up at his jade eyes filled
For a long while, Cassy simply stared at him. She could hardly believe that he was actually here, standing before her with his darkened eyes and his tousled hair. "May I come in?" he asked. Cassy stepped aside, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him. The ruse was over; Zack must have told him where she was. The bastard! How could he betray her like this?Henry walked behind her slowly, unable to take his eyes of her. So she had been at Zack’s this entire time. Zack, who should have had the decency to inform him at once that his wife was hiding here. Zack, who had taken Catherine from him, had also succeeded in taking his wife this time. Fury lashed at his thoughts, but his murderous thoughts were halted immediately whenever he blinked and she came into his view. Cassy lead them into the drawing room she had just vacated with Colin. This time however, she didn’t sit. Neither did Henry. He stood at the doorway, watching her hungrily. He couldn’t soak in the sight of her en
"Colin?"His name was a whisper on her lips, too light and feathery to be real. It had been too long since she last said the name; too long since she last saw the rugged smile and those beautiful eyes staring down at her. "Colin." She said the name again, as if repeating it would make his presence more real. He looked different, and yet somehow the same. The familiarity hit her like a train, sending her world spinning off its axis. "May I come in?" he asked, a nonchalant smirk perched on the edge of his lips. "I hardly think this is the right spot for old friends to entertain each other.""Of course," she said breathlessly, stepping aside. "Forgive my manners. I’m just so surprised to see you here of all places.""I’m surprised to see you here as well," he said, passing the threshold and stepping into the hallway. "Hardwick never told me about you.""Well I only just came to stay with him a few months ago," she replied, leading him to the drawing room. She could feel his eyes on her
Jonathan growled as though he would punch Henry without hearing from him. He had a defensive stance, waiting for the best moment to strike."I have no idea," Henry began, his voice cold. "Perhaps you might know where I can find her, Levington?"Jonathan was seething with rage. "Now you see why I was so against the wedding!" he snapped angrily before punching Henry on the face.If Henry heard him, he gave no sign. His attention was on the door. He didn't bother to reply Jonathan, he didn't care how angry he was. He wanted to fight. It had been a long time since he'd felt this fierce urge to battle another man, but he did now. Few of the duels he'd engaged had been of his choosing and fewer still had he anticipated. Most of the time, he had simply refused to back down when pushed and had given his challenger every opportunity to gracefully extract himself from a fight.But now, Henry wanted a fight desperately. He wanted the satisfaction of clashing blades, not the more detached aiming o
Cassy mounted one of the sedate.The raw pain had eased slightly and was duller now, more easily dealt with now that she wasn't expecting anything, now that she wasn't expecting him to follow her. She had given up already on their love.At first, nothing had helped, then for the past week, she had begun taking her life one day at a time, making it through the day and then congratulating herself for it, spending as much time with Zack as possible. Finally, she had begun taking pains with her appearance again and had begun wearing the new clothes that fit her fuller figure. Her breasts were larger, and her waist, though still small, was not as small as it had been. Her hips were fuller, too, swelling in a curve that would hardly be mistaken as boyish now. She had definitely matured, and pregnancy surely did agree with her.But what good did it do to her if Henry was so far away? And why did she miss him so much when it was obvious he did not miss her? He was with his mistresses, and she
"Why wasn't I told?" Adeline seethed angrily. "Why do I have to find out when things are worse? Henry, do you any idea how helpful I might have been in looking for her?""I don't care to discuss it, Madam," he said coldly, causing her to shiver. "And I'll find my wife myself.""You don't feel it necessary now when she has left already? With a baby? Your baby?" Adeline injected a note of scorn in her voice that made Henry's eyes blaze with fury as she said, "You're a coward, Henry Blake, and I never thought that of you before.""You have no idea what you're talking about!""I most certainly do. You're afraid to admit that you love Cassandra, and you're afraid she doesn't love you back as much as you do. I can tell you that she does."Clasping his hands behind his back, Henry said in a biting tone, "I can tell you, madam, that you are quite mistaken in the matter. Not only does she not care for me; she hates me. If you don't believe me, ask her. I'm certain she will be as free with that
As he held Rebecca in his hands and watched his wife leave, Henry quickly pushed Rebecca away from him. He had no idea why he had done it, no idea why he had felt the compelling urge to hug Rebecca and kiss her as soon as he saw her standing in his study.Maybe he was confused at the words she had said, maybe their argument last night had done that. Point is, he had only caught her in the hands of his cousin, and she was drunk, which meant he might have possibly only helped her like they both said. But now, she had caught him kissing another woman, right in their home.He had wanted to hurt her as much as he was hurting, but definitely not the type of hurt he had seen in her eyes when she saw him kissing Rebecca."Leave," he growled angrily at Rebecca, and Sheldon wasted no time in dragging her out, despite her pleading. He had been pained to have seen Cassy seeing the sinful act, but he couldn't move, nor did he have the slightest idea that she had left. Only Ellen did, and it happene