Corrected by the Colonel (7 page)

Chapter Six

         
Ruined. Her reputation. Her plan to save her family. Her future. All of it ruined.  She might as well pack her things and head directly to the poor house since she, and her sisters, would be there soon enough.

         
She was surprised Lady Tyndall had not already ordered the servants to toss her, and her paltry belongings, out of Hadley Hall.

          
Cassandra sat in her room, now fully dressed, and wallowed in the misery of her situation. How could she face her sisters after they had sent her off with such high hopes?

         
It was all
his
fault. It was not as though she had invited him into her bedchamber, yet now she would bear the shame of it. Arrogant, bossy, selfish Colonel Blaise Sinclair.

         
She loathed him and wished she could be alone with him one more time in order to, in the least ladylike terms she knew, tell him how completely and utterly she despised him.

         
There was a soft tap on her door and before she could respond, the door opened and for the second time that day, Lady Tyndall stood in Cassandra’s bed chamber.

         
Cassandra braced herself for an onslaught of ridicule and condemnation. Did she dare defend herself? What defense could she give? Even to her ears the truth of the matter—that she was unaware of his presence and then slipped into his embrace— sounded ridiculous. Besides, there had been much more to their encounter than an innocent slip into Colonel Sinclair's arms. Maybe she ought to have given in to her desire to know him fully. At least she would have one pleasurable memory to take with her into destitution.

         
Lady Tyndall entered the room and sat in a high backed chair opposite Cassandra.

         
Her stony gaze raked Cassandra from the tips of her well-worn shoes to the top of her poverty stricken blonde head.

         
Cassandra gripped her hands in her lap. She ought to have been mortified by Lady Tyndall's obvious disdain for her, but something in the woman's hauteur angered, rather than shamed, her. She drew in a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. She would meet whatever this woman, whom she had hoped would be her mother-in-law, said to her with as much dignity as possible.

         
Lady Tyndall peered down her nose at Cassandra, an impressive feat considering Cassandra was also seated. "I have made some inquiries," the lady said, an imperious sniff in her tone, "and it would seem that your mother was the woman who brought shame upon the Bennington family and was cast out." Lady Tyndall pursed her lips as though sucking a lemon, then continued. "Apparently she was quite foolish. And headstrong. And impulsive. I can see the apple did not fall far from the proverbial tree."

         
Cassandra stiffened. She had prepared herself for a shaming based on being caught with Colonel Sinclair, so the assault on her mother caught her off guard. She recovered quickly, though.

         
"Lady Tyndall," Cassandra stood and glared down at her hostess. "I will agree that what you observed this afternoon was scandalous and I am prepared for whatever condemnation my own actions bring upon me." As she spoke her anger, and confidence, rose. "However, you have no right to say such things about my mother who, despite her circumstances, was more of a lady than you can ever hope to be. Now get out." Cassandra pointed to the door with a quivering finger. To her amazement, Lady Tyndall complied.

         
Shaking, Cassandra leaned against the chair her hostess had vacated and fought to regain her composure.  She pressed a hand to her forehead to stem the throbbing in her temples. What had she just done?

         
She glanced at the window and considered the ramifications of jumping. She strode across the room and opened it, finding some relief in the fresh air. She looked down, wondering how long it would take before she reached the ground. Movement at the corner of her vision caught her eye. Colonel Sinclair waved jauntily up at her.

         
Instinctively, she reached for the nearest object and flung it out the window. The Colonel, trained for battles with enemies more fierce than an angry woman, easily dodged the vase aimed for his head.

         
The vase, like all her plans, fell short of the mark and shattered at Colonel Sinclair's feet.

         
Seeing the pieces of the heirloom scattered on the lawn brought the full import of her deed to the forefront of her mind. Was there nothing she had not ruined that day?

         
Cassandra retreated from the window and Blaise's gaze, her head spinning with the horrors of the last hour.

         
There was a soft knock on the door. Expecting a maid, or possibly the butler to escort her from the premises, Cassandra bid them enter.

         
To her surprise, Lady Jane walked in. She smiled shyly at Cassandra and said "It has been an eventful afternoon."

         
Still shocked by all that had occurred in the last hour, Cassandra struggled to make sense of what was happening. She gaped at her guest.

         
“I expect it is all rather sudden, is it not?” Lady Jane said softly. “I had thought you were interested in Owen and that was why you had come here.”

         
This put Cassandra into a bit of a quandary, despite the fact she was already deep into the throes of a conundrum. If she confirmed Lady Jane’s statement, it became apparent she had taken advantage of the girl’s friendship to gain access to her brother.

         
Of course, she had done precisely that. At the time it had seemed harmless enough, but now, seeing the hurt in Lady Jane’s eyes, Cassandra wondered if she might have misjudged the girl. Besides, she felt so lost and alone, she could use a friend.

         
“I will admit I had hoped to gain your brother’s affection,” she said, “and although that did not come to pass, I am glad I had the opportunity to spend time with you.”

         
Lady Jane perked up. “And now we will be cousins.”

         
The full import of what had apparently been planned for her without her knowledge or consent passed over Cassandra in a blanket of mystification, misery and mortification.

         
At some point she had lost complete control over her life.

***

         
To add insult to injury, Miss Eliza Collins arrived at Hadley Hall earlier than expected. When Cassandra went downstairs for dinner she was greeted by the sight of Lord Owen Tyndall gazing upon Miss Collins with rapture and delight.

        
She noticed something red moving in her direction. Colonel Sinclair, ostensibly her betrothed, crossed the room to greet her. At least he had the decency to look slightly chagrined.

         
“Good evening, Miss Sheridan, you look particularly lovely tonight.”

          
Before she replied, Cassandra noticed all eyes were on them. She bit back the retort she wished to make and simply said, “Thank you.”

         
He offered her his arm and she placed her hand upon it, though when no one could see she dug her nails into the tender flesh of his exposed wrist.

          
“You tricked me,” she hissed under her breath.

        
“I did no such thing,” he answered, assisting her to a seat in the corner of the room. "Besides, if anyone came to Hadley Hall with intentions of trickery, it was you and not me."

         
The conversation continued. To anyone observing them the smiles on their faces and meaningful glances they shared conveyed their growing ardor. In reality, their words and actions were a complete mismatch.

         
He handed her a glass of wine. “I ought to throw this at you,” she said, with a fake smile.

        
He touched the edge of his glass to hers. “I would be forced to wipe my face with the hem of your dress as I did earlier today. Although I am sure I would enjoy seeing your naked bottom again, I do not believe Lady Tyndall would find it acceptable.”

         
A giggle across the room drew their attention. Apparently Lord Tyndall had said something which tickled Miss Collins. What on earth that might be was beyond Cassandra’s thinking. Lord Tyndall had never said anything even remotely amusing, at least not intentionally, within her hearing.

         
She turned back to the Colonel. “You have seen as much of my naked body as you will ever see so I hope you took a good look while you were sneaking around my bedchamber today.”

         
“I admit I intended to sneak into your room today, but only to return your letter and the shoe which you so politely asked me to repair. I thought you were in the drawing room with Lady Jane so I could leave the items for you and be gone in seconds.”

         
“But you did not.”

         
“No,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I am sorry for this predicament, but given that Cousin Owen appears quite smitten with Miss Collins, perhaps you will consider marriage to me as a consolation prize.”

         
She ought to draw her hand away from his and possibly use it to slap his insolent face, but she could not. The touch of his hand, though slight, sent threads of tingly sensations spinning through her body. Through dancing with numerous men Cassandra had experienced some minimal physical contact, but none of them had created the awareness in her that Colonel Sinclair’s thumb stroking across her wrist generated.

         
“If that is your idea of a marriage proposal, it is sorely lacking.” She strove to keep her breathing even and her voice detached, but it was difficult with his fingers working their way up the inside of her arm.

         
“True enough. I have been remiss.” He clasped her fingers in his, gazed intently into her eyes and said “Miss Cassandra Sheridan, will you marry me?”

         
“It would appear I have no other options.” She jerked her arm away, rose from her seat and walked purposefully across the room.

              ***             

          The newly betrothed couple did not speak again until dinner when they were seated side by side. The party of which Miss Collins was a member consisted of six persons, so the dinner conversation proved much more lively than during Cassandra's previous nights at Hadley Hall.

         
Although civil to Colonel Sinclair, Cassandra focused her attention on the gentleman seated to her left, who happened to be the brother of Miss Collins. Her obvious attempts to ignore him did not please the colonel.

         
After dinner when everyone adjourned to the drawing room for entertainment, Blaise took a firm hold of his future wife’s arm and steered her outside to the garden.

         
“This is highly improper,” Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

         
“We are betrothed. I am sure no one will begrudge two lovers a few moments alone.” Blaise sat on a bench in the garden and pulled Cassandra into his lap. She wiggled and squirmed most deliciously in an attempt to get away until he encased her in his arms and pulled her close for a kiss. He had only intended to kiss her gently, to show her she had nothing to fear from him, but once his mouth found hers, gentleness was the furthest thing from his mind, and apparently hers as well. Again she opened her lips to the pressure from his mouth and he felt the tentative stirring of her tongue as it moved with shy passion against his own.

         
He cupped the back of her head in his hand and held her captive until he feared if he did not stop he would never be able to let her go.

         
When his breathing slowed a bit he spoke. “Now, my little poppet, I understand I was not your first choice for a husband.” He stroked his finger down the length of her nose and marveled in its delicacy. “However, we are now to be husband and wife and I expect you to behave properly.”

         
“I have behaved exceptionally well, considering the circumstances." Her words were defiant, though her voice sounded less strident.

         
“You dug your nails into my wrist, which was quite painful. You were exceedingly rude in response to my proposal of marriage and at dinner, you ignored me. Are those the actions of a dutiful and obedient wife?”