Devil's Embrace (43 page)

Mr. Beatty said, “Aye, that’s true enough. ‘Ye that dare oppose not only the tyranny but the tyrant, stand forth!’ Yes, quite a way with words the man has.”

As Cassie sat blinking at such an appreciation of eloquence from an innkeeper, Mr. Beatty rose from his chair and patted Edward’s arm. “I’ll leave you be now, my lord. I fancy you and your lady wife have much to talk about.”

“Yes, sir, I believe that we do,” Edward said, looking toward Cassie. Mr. Beatty bowed deeply to Cassie. He stopped at the door, his sausage fingers upon the knob. “Do you know that before he started writing, Tom Paine did not seem to be able to do anything but fail?
damned fellow—begging your pardon, milady—bungled being a sailor, a grocer, a tobacconist, and a tax collector. His wife even cut him loose.” Sudden humor lit Mr. Beatty’s round face, and he shook his head. “You’ll not believe it, but he could not even make a living as a corsetmaker! The—begging your pardon, milady.”

Cassie clapped her hand over her mouth, but still her laughter bubbled out.

“Do not poke fun at the locals, Cass,” Edward said, his voice mock-reproving. “You’ll discover that every New Yorker holds staunch views, though it seems to me that Mr. Beatty has of late begun to show a rebel chink in his Tory armor.”

“But a corsetmaker, Edward.”

Cassie’s smile lasted until they reached Edward’s rooms. She knew that finally she must tell him. As she could think of no smooth preamble, she said only, “Could we please talk a moment, Edward?”

“Of course.” She looked suddenly pale to him. “Sit down,” he said gently, and propelled her to the settee.

“What is it, Cass?”

“There is something I must tell you. I fear that I have been a coward, for I could not bring myself to tell you before. But I must tell you now.”

He gazed at her intently, not speaking.

She looked at him desperately. “Edward, I am going to have a child.”

“
What?
”

“I am pregnant.”

“No, you cannot mean it.” Unconsciously, his eyes flitted over her body.

It was impossible for her not to see how truly appalled he was. She lowered her face, unable to bear the shocked, glazed look in his eyes.

“It is the earl’s child.”

She flinched at the harsh flatness in his voice.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Edward leaped to his feet, his chair scraping loudly on the bare floor. “That bloody bastard. Oh my God, Cassie. Are you certain?”

She nodded, mutely. How stupid she was ever to have thought that Edward would react differently, but she had nurtured the memory of how the earl had behaved when she had told him that first night they were together that she was pregnant with Edward’s child.

“I will fetch a doctor. Perhaps you are mistaken.”

“No, I am not mistaken. I am sorry, Edward, but there is naught I can do about it.”

His son, his heir, to be a bastard. The earl’s seed. Murderous, confused thoughts mired his mind. “God, no,” he croaked, unable for the moment to look at her. When he did, he saw that she was deathly pale, her lips drawn in a tight line, her shoulders squared.

“I will do what you wish, Edward.”

“Damn him for a scoundrel.”

Cassie turned her face away from the fury in his voice.

Edward forced himself to calm. It was not Cassie’s fault. God, he could not blame her. He managed to make his voice clear and taut. “We shall be wed Friday, and leave for England as soon as I can be relieved.”

“Very well, Edward.” The words fell like ashes from her mouth. The earl would never even know that she would bear his child.

“No one must ever know, Edward.”

“No,” he said, slowly shaking his head. He took a jerking step toward her and awkwardly patted her shoulder. “It will be all right, Cass.” He straightened. “I would like to be alone for a while. I must have some time to myself, to think. You must rest now. I will return soon.”

“Yes,” she said, “soon.” She watched him leave, his bearing so taut with control that she wanted to weep for him.

Cassie lay wide-eyed in the dark bedchamber when she heard Edward’s footsteps in the sitting room. She could feel him hesitate before he walked into the room. At least, she thought, there were no more secrets between them. She felt a tightening within her. At least no more secrets they could share with each other.

“Cassie, are you awake?”

“Yes, Edward.”

He sat down beside her and tenderly pulled her against his chest, and rocked her in his arms.

“Forgive me for leaving you, but I—”

She laid a fingertip against his lips. “Do not torture yourself, Edward.” Or me, she added silently. “Have you decided what it is you wish to do?”

“I told you my decision before I left, Cassie. I want you to become my wife.”

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she buried her face against his shoulder. “I have been so miserably unhappy, knowing what I was keeping from you. Please forgive me for being such a coward.”

“It was I who was the coward for leaving you alone.”

“Oh no, do not say that. God, I should probably have never come to you.”

His hand stroked through her soft hair. “Hush, Cassie. I will not let you reproach yourself anymore.”

He felt her soft breasts heaving against him, and leaned down to close his mouth over hers. He sensed a desperation in her as she closed her arms about his back and returned his kiss urgently. It occurred to him that he did not know when her child was to be born. He felt her need for him, and knew that such questions must wait.

“Would you make love with me, Cassie?” He drew back so that he could see her face in the dim light.

He felt a shudder of relief go through her. “Yes, Edward, I should like that very much.”

Edward was gentle with her, and quite thorough in his attempts to arouse her. As his mouth closed over her and his hands drew her hips upward, she felt his tenderness, and allowed herself to be comforted. His entry did not hurt her, for his tongue had made her moist. She accepted him into her and clasped her hands tightly about his back, urging him to his climax.

“We have aught but time, Cass,” he said gently afterward. “I will make you forget all that happened to you.”

But he wondered, even as Cassie nestled against his shoulder to sleep. He knew the Earl of Clare by reputation, though his personal meetings with him had been few in recent years. He was a man who had women of all stations
eager to enter his bed. It made no sense to Edward that, if the earl wished to marry her, he would repeatedly hurt her, that he should fail to arouse passion in her. He began to wonder what she felt toward the Earl of Clare, and the nagging doubts that had gnawed at him when he had walked alone on the street returned to haunt him. He tightened his hold about her, certain only that Cassie was with him now and that she would become his wife.

C
assie brushed her freshly washed hair vigorously, until it rippled, free of tangles, heavy and damp down her back. She would have liked to open the curtained windows to let it dry more quickly, but the March air had turned chill once again. She dressed slowly, gazing toward the clock atop the small dressing table as she fastened the hooks on her bodice. It was nearly noon, and Edward had been gone since ten o’clock. She had managed to talk him out of fetching a doctor when she had awakened early in the morning, ill once again. She wanted no doctor about her in any case, but she knew also that it would be more than peculiar for Edward’s wife to have been with her husband less than a week and be more than two months pregnant. Edward had grimaced when she pointed this out to him, and finally agreed. He had finally left her, still abed, with a tray of dry toast for her breakfast on her lap, to see General Howe about arrangements for their return home to England.

She walked into the sitting room and forced herself to nibble at the cold baked chicken and fresh bread Mrs. Beatty had sent up for her lunch. The babe in her womb seemed to take no exception to the chicken wing, and Cassie was wiping her fingers when Edward walked into the room, lightly slapping his arms from the cold.

“Damn,” he said, “you’re right about the changeable weather here, Cass. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were even to snow.”

He leaned down and lightly kissed her uptilted cheek. “Your hair smells good. I apologize for the primitive
conditions. With all that hair to wash, and only the hipbath to wash it in, it must have taken you hours.”

“Not quite hours,” she said, smiling up at him.

He unfastened his sword and laid it on the table.

“Lunch, Edward? I saved you a chicken wing and a leg.”

“Your generosity is overwhelming,” he said, grinning, and seated himself across from her.

“What did General Howe say?”

“Who?”

She cocked her head at him and repeated her question.

“Oh, General Howe.” He paused a moment and she saw him look fixedly at the chicken leg in his hand. “Actually, I wasn’t able to see him. Perhaps later.”

“You seem distracted, sir. May I ask just how you have spent the last two hours?”

To Cassie’s surprise, he seemed to stiffen at her joking inquiry. “Naught of anything, really,” he said finally. “There were people I had to see. I am still a soldier, Cass.”

“I did not intend an inquisition, Edward,” she said, sipping at her coffee.

“Of course you did not. Are you feeling all right, Cass?”

“Indeed, I am the picture of good health.” She giggled suddenly and pressed her napkin over her lips.

He arched an inquiring brow.

“I was just thinking about your mother. I think she would be more inclined to approve of me if I displayed enough sensibility to lounge the hours away with a vinaigrette in my hand.”

He smiled faintly. “Illness is one of her few joys, I fear. She thinks me a most undutiful son for giving the army much more attention than her. I understand from her letters that my agent, Mr. Prudeck, has shown himself to be a boorish oaf who refuses to show proper deference for her fragile nerves. I must remember to give the fellow a raise in his salary.”

Cassie thought about meeting Lady Delford with her belly swelled with child. It was on the tip of her tongue to inquire whether Edward had yet written to his fond parent when she noticed that he was staring beyond her at nothing
in particular. Instead, she asked, “What plans have you for the afternoon, Edward?”

“The afternoon?” He pressed the napkin against his lips. “I must leave you again, Cass, but not for long. Major Andre and I are meeting with some other officers, and General Howe, about the spring offensives.”

“Perhaps when you return we could go riding. I should like that very much.”

“But you are pregnant.”

He was clearly aghast at such a suggestion, and Cassie hastened to reassure him. “I am not sick, Edward, merely indisposed some mornings. I promise not to beg you for a race.”

He rose and fastened on his sword before he answered her, a frown drawing his brows together. “We shall see. It will probably rain, you know.”

Cassie sighed, knowing a put-off when she heard it.

“Edward?”

“Yes, Cass?”

She rose from her chair and walked over to him. “I—that is, if you would rather that we did not wed—”

He interrupted her harshly. “Of course I wish us to wed. No more silliness from you now, my girl.” He patted her cheek gently. “Rest while I am gone.”

“Yes, I shall.”

Cassie looked about the small sitting room after Edward had left, feeling almost as closed in as she had on
The York.
Rain pattered against the windows, and all fond thoughts of riding were dashed.

She picked up a pamphlet that lay on the table. It was the infamous
Common Sense
that Mr. Beatty had raved about, and she shook her head, bemused. She thought the high-flown phrases rather ridiculous. She raised her eyes at the sound of a light tap on the door.

She rose slowly to her feet, wondering if it was Mrs. Beatty, come to take the luncheon dishes away.

“Come in.”

Cassie was surprised to see Jennifer Lacy, the young woman she and Edward met the day before.

“May I speak to you, Miss Brougham?”

“Certainly, Miss Lacy, do come in.”

“You remember my name.”

“Yes, it is a talent of mine.”

Cassie motioned Miss Lacy to a chair and seated herself opposite upon the settee.

“You are feeling better today, Miss Lacy?”

For an instant, Jenny stared at her, not comprehending. How quickly she had forgotten her lie.

“Yes, of course.”

The look was not lost upon Cassie. “Would you care for tea, or perhaps coffee?”

“No, thank you.” Jenny lowered her eyes to her lap where her fingers were fretting at her reticule. “I waited until I saw Edward leave,” she said finally, raising her vivid green eyes to Cassie’s face.

“May I inquire why, Miss Lacy?”

Jenny grit her teeth, aware that Cassandra was regarding her closely, one elegant arched brow raised in inquiry.

“Because I wanted to speak with you without Edward being present. I hope you will not think me impertinent, but in truth, it is my intention, I suppose.”

Cassie blinked and smiled uncertainly at Miss Lacy’s candor. “You may be as impertinent as you like, Miss Lacy. Whether I answer you though is another matter.”

“I had imagined that you were beautiful when Edward finally told me about you.”

Cassie stiffened.

“Do not blame Edward. If you would know the truth, I rather forced it out of him. He was ill, from the wound in his thigh, and spoke of you in his delirium. When I asked him who Cassandra was, he told me that you were his fiancée. I asked him if you had done him a great wrong. His response was that you had died. I hope you will forgive me, Miss Brougham, but I must admit to giving your memory little sympathy.”

“This is straight talk indeed, Miss Lacy.”

Jenny said simply, “I must speak what I feel, for I am fighting for my happiness as well as Edward’s.” She paused a moment, an elusive smile indenting the corners of her mouth. “I had rather hoped that you would be a bitch.
Then I should not feel so guilty about coming here like this.”