In the Garden of Seduction (12 page)

He looked hurt and she regretted having put
it so bluntly.

“You’re not that fond of me, either,” she
insisted.

“I think you are very beautiful.”

“But you don’t like me.” She wanted to
throttle him.

“That will come in time.”

“It will never come, I know that. If you
don’t know it now, you will eventually.” She peeked at him
sideways, struck by sudden inspiration. “Truth is Penelope and you
are much more suited. And I think she is attracted to you.”

“Some things are not meant to be,” was his
response. He seemed so miserable of a sudden, Cassandra wondered if
he truly meant what he said.

“Roger, I can’t fight Grandfather alone. If
we refuse to give in to his wishes, it will be much easier for both
of us.”

He set his plate down and turned to look at
her directly. “Let me tell you something,” he said in a stern
voice, “I will inherit a title and a very large estate because it
is entailed. That cannot be changed. But there is very little money
to go with it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Most of Uncle’s money is not entailed. It
is to do with as he wishes. He will give it to me if I marry you.
That money is needed to run the estate properly.” He eyed her, his
manner disdainful.

“I can’t believe he’d leave you without the
resources to care for his property,” she persisted. “It means
everything to him.”

He continued to stare at her, a mulish look
on his face, but he did not answer.

“You have nothing more to say?” Cassandra
wanted to give into a bout of hysterics.
Dignity be
damned!

“Maybe it would be best if we did not speak
until later on the subject.”

The sanctimonious sound in his voice sent
her teeth to gnashing, and that more than anything convinced her
she and Roger would never suit. Any man who could set aside a
heated argument for future dissection, had no passion in him—no
fire. She’d as soon marry an icicle.

“As far as I’m concerned, I don’t care if we
ever speak about it again,” Cassandra said. She knew she sounded
petty but could not help it.

Roger stood up and brushed off his trousers.
“I’m going to leave you until your temper subsides.”

“And while you’re at it,” she said
spitefully, “why don’t you find someone to take me home before my
anger ruins the picnic for everyone.”

He stared at her a moment, uncertain. “You
can’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you have anyone in mind?” he asked, his
features also pinched with anger.

Regrettably, she did not though she was too
proud to admit it. She glanced across the grove and, after a moment
of anxious searching, her gaze came to rest on Harry Stiles.
Surely, he would not let her down.

“Mr. Stiles will be happy to do it.” She
sounded more confident than she felt.

“Right then.” He stalked in the direction of
Mr. Stiles.

Oh, dear.
The second man today to
walk away from her because she had managed to insult him, Cassandra
thought wryly.

*****

Simon saw Roger Morley walk away from
Cassandra. Clearly, the couple had been arguing, for they had been
speaking to one another in an animated fashion—at least Miss James
looked animated. He watched her where she now sat alone, the sun
glinting off her auburn curls, and he smiled to himself. He
suspected that lovely hair did indeed reflect her hot temperament.
He found the idea very provocative.

He had not enjoyed it quite as much when she
had turned those lovely blue eyes on him earlier and sliced him
into fine pieces. Miss James was clever. Cleverness could make a
woman unpredictable, and he found the challenge appealed to
him.

She had called him a rogue. Simon’s first
reaction had been anger. But a little time to reflect had allowed
him to see the humor in her actions. Another more compelling reason
motivated him. He had been honest when he told her he liked
her.

Cassandra James had interested him from the
first time he’d seen her. She was beautiful, but it was more than
that. He sensed a connection with her, something he couldn’t name
but could feel. He believed she felt it, too.

Simon brought his gaze back to his dinner
companion, the lovely Cordelia Henry. She was an attractive,
pleasant young woman. And not once during their lively conversation
had Miss Henry called his character into question. She had instead
flattered him outrageously. So, why did Miss Henry bore him?

Most women pandered to him. Position and
money were an irresistible combination, and he had both. Up to this
time, Simon had never cared if a woman was interested in him or his
pocketbook. Being a skeptic he usually assumed it was the
latter.

Simon watched Morley cross the grove and
approach Harry. The two men spoke briefly and then Roger left,
leaving Harry wearing an uneasy expression.

The marquess caught Harry’s attention across
the distance, and he nodded at his friend. He could see Harry
wanted to speak to him and so, with as much grace as he could
manage, he withdrew from his lovely companion. He came languidly to
his feet and walked to Harry’s side.

“You’re looking unhappy, Harry. What did
Morley want?”

“I’m a little uncomfortable, Simon,” he
admitted. “He told me that Miss James would appreciate it if I
would escort her home.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I said yes, of course. The way he asked, I
think she no longer wants to ride with him.”

“Is that so?” The marquess felt his spirits
rise, and he sent Harry a calculating glance.

“Now wait a minute, Simon. Don’t look at me
like that. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking Morley approached the wrong
man. I will escort Miss James home.”

“Don’t even bother, my friend,” Harry said
in a dry voice. “I would be acting shabbily if I passed my
responsibility along to you.”

“Do you want to take her home?” The marquess
asked suspiciously.

“I don’t mind and that’s the truth. I’d be a
fool not to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman.” Harry sounded
defensive. “I also happen to think Miss James is delightful. But I
have no designs on her, and I admit I’d rather not be in the middle
of an argument.”

“Then let me escort her. I have no problem
getting in the middle of her little tiff with Morley. Maybe she’ll
need a shoulder to cry on, and I may have the very shoulder she
needs.” Harry studied the marquess for several moments, uncertain.
“I wish I knew what you want from her. I’d insist you tell me, but
I don’t believe you know, either.”

*****

Cassandra sat on the hard ground, her
backside beginning to feel tender from having remained in one place
for so long. She hated the inactivity. She could blame herself, for
she had sent Roger away. She had seen him leave with Penelope a
short while ago and, though she knew it was irrational, she felt
abandoned.

Several people had come to sit with her
intermittently throughout the afternoon, including two or three
eligible gentlemen. And Mr. Stiles had joined her for a while,
though he had not mentioned taking her home. Nevertheless, she
assumed that was his intention, for she had seen Roger talk to
him.

But now the grove was beginning to clear,
and Mr. Stiles had not yet come for her. In fact, she hadn’t seen
him for some time. Had he forgotten her? She had already waved away
several people who had asked if she needed assistance. Perhaps she
had been too hasty.

Then Cassandra saw the marquess, wearing a
broad grin, his attitude cocky as he sauntered toward her.

“Miss James, I understand you need a ride
home,” he said as he reached her. He bent low in a courtly bow.
“I’m at your service.”

“Mr. Stiles is taking me.” Her voice raised
a full octave before she finished speaking.

“No, no—I’m to do it, I’m fairly certain.
You don’t mind, do you?”

He could not fool her with that innocent
stare, she thought indignantly. She did mind, yes, she did.

“Lord Sutherfield, are you certain? I could
have sworn Roger asked Mr. Stiles.”

“Now you mention it, I believe he did. Harry
was called away at the last moment and I’m afraid the task fell to
me.”

Cassandra sighed then, aware that she had
been outmaneuvered. She knew the marquess had arranged this even if
she couldn’t prove it. She supposed he was planning revenge on her
for insulting him earlier. She did intend to remember one thing for
the future, though—it was one thing to tell a person exactly what
was on one’s mind, and something else to have to face that person
later with the words still fresh between them.

“I’d rather not impose on you, Lord
Sutherfield,” she said, but she knew her voice had lost its
conviction.

After all, who else was there to help her?
She could have a message sent to her grandfather, a course of
action she knew the old man would prefer. Thus, she would be
ruffling some feathers if she allowed the Marquess to escort her
home.

“Doesn’t seem to be any other option, does
there, my dear?” he said.

He had been watching her, and she knew he
was amused by her indecision. If he intended to be so sure of
himself, perhaps she had better reconsider.

“You could send a message to my grandfather.
He will send someone for me.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that, Miss James. It
could take awhile. You’ll be here alone. I would feel responsible
if anything happened to you.”

He smiled at her, attitude guileless, and it
took all Cassandra’s willpower not to smile in return.
Oh, he
was a rogue for certain!
It would not take more than one half
hour for a carriage to be summoned and come for her. And if he were
so worried for her safety, he could wait with her until it arrived.
But he wanted to play this game, and suddenly she wanted to play it
with him.

“I believe you could charm the devil out of
tempting man.” She did smile then because she couldn’t help
herself.

“Do you think so?” he asked her. His
expression turned wolfish. “I must tell you, though, I would prefer
he not stop tempting woman.”

She laughed and he laughed with her. For a
brief moment they were in complete harmony. Surprised, Cassandra
found herself enjoying the mutual goodwill.

“How about it, Miss James, may I take you
home now?”

She merely nodded.

And with little effort, he lifted her into
his strong arms and briskly walked toward his carriage.

*****

Lord Sutherfield helped Cassandra into Mr.
Stiles’ new curricle and climbed in beside her.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, I am,” she said as she settled her
skirts.

“Your foot is not paining you?”

“As long as I don’t put weight on it there
is no discomfort.” She slid her gaze curiously in his direction,
pleased by his concern.

“Good. Let’s be off.” He flicked the reins
and the curricle pulled out of the grove.

They did not speak at first. Lord
Sutherfield glanced at her, smiling in a reassuring manner.
Cassandra was aware of the warmth of his body, the length of his
leg next to hers, and she held herself in a stiff, uncompromising
position so she did not lean too close to him.

She felt guilty, for she had been
unforgivably rude to the marquess only a few hours before. Despite
that he was treating her with courtesy and kindness. She supposed
she ought to apologize.

“Earlier today…I mean…”

He turned to look at her.

Oh dear,
this was more difficult than
she thought. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon for my rude
behavior this afternoon, my lord. I had no right to call you a
name.”

“Why, Miss James, that’s the prettiest
apology I have ever received. You make me feel very humble.” He
grinned at her. “It takes a big man…ah, woman to admit when she is
wrong.”

“I didn’t say I was wrong,” she mumbled. “I
apologized for speaking my thoughts.” She looked at him directly,
defensively.

“That’s all right.” He sighed, pausing for a
moment before continuing. “Are you really going to marry Mr.
Morley?”

“I’ve not said that,” she said
hurriedly.

“Then you’re not going to marry him?”

She shot him an irritated glance. “My
grandfather would like me to marry Roger.”

“Why is Lord Whittingham pushing a marriage
with him?”

“Roger is his heir. I don’t think
Grandfather likes him other than that. Sometimes I don’t think he
likes him at all.”

“I confess I’m mystified.”

She shook her head. “You have a title and
lands so I imagine you understand his feelings more than I. My
grandfather is distressed that his title will be lost to another
branch of the family. But if I marry Roger and have a son with him
then the title and all that goes with it will come to my son and,
therefore, my grandfather’s great-grandson. To Grandfather this
will rectify the line of descent.”

“I see,” Lord Sutherfield said. “Roger
doesn’t mind?”

“Roger has no spine. He will do as he is
told. Grandfather has promised him the bulk of his money—if Roger
marries me. If we don’t marry the opposite holds true.”

“I see. What are you going to do?”

Cassandra had no intention of marrying her
cousin, but she didn’t know if it was wise to admit it right
now.

“Frankly, my lord, I haven’t the faintest
idea.”

The marquess took his attention from the
road briefly, searching her features. “What happened to your
father, your natural father, I mean?”

“I never knew him. He died before I was
born. But I consider Quintin James to be my father. I’ve listened
to the story of my origins but it has little meaning for me.” She
shifted restlessly on the seat, pulling at her muslin skirt with
nervous fingers. “I know you’ve heard the rumors.