Jess Michaels (17 page)

“What will you have me say,” his father finally said, pushing to his feet on unsteady legs, although he waved his wife away when she moved to help him. He drew a few long breaths, leaning on the table, before he let his gaze move to Nathan. “Yes. I did give you a letter that night.”

“One that was apparently forged. Did you arrange to have
it written? Were you responsible for that?” Nathan barked, slamming a fist down on the table.

His mother jumped at the unexpected violence, but his father did not react. He merely tilted his head slightly.

“Arthur!” his wife exclaimed, covering her lips with her fingers. “You forged a letter from Miss Willows?”

“It was the truth, in the end,” the Marquis said slowly. “After all, the woman did become a mistress.” He shot his wife an apologetic look. “A glorified whore, if you will pardon my coarseness, my dear. So what I had written there might not have been true that night, but it would have become true later. I had to make you see her character, one way or another.”

Nathan clenched his fists at his sides. He was shaking so violently that his teeth clattered against each other in his mouth.

“Do you know what you did?” he managed to push out past his clenched jaw. “When I believed she had been untrue to me, I never considered any other reason behind her not showing up at our meeting place. I abandoned her when something horrible had kept her from me. And I…”

He trailed off and stared at his father as a new realization dawned upon him.

“If you had a forged letter ready for me, you must have believed Cassandra wouldn’t come that night. That I would wait for her and when I came home, brokenhearted and angry, I would be open to your lies. How…” He could hardly say it. “How did you know Cassandra wouldn’t meet me that night?”

His father blanched and swallowed hard enough that his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“Why live in the past, Nathan?” he asked, his fists opening and closing against the tabletop before him. “What has been done has been done.”

“How did you know, Father?” Nathan asked again. “What did you do?”

His father shot his mother a side glance, but she was staring at her husband with as much horror and anxiety as Nathan felt, himself. He couldn’t help but be relieved that it seemed only one parent had been involved in the deceit.

“The bastard I hired was not supposed to attack her,” his father said, lifting his hands as if for understanding.

Nathan shut his eyes, recoiling from his father’s words like they were a physical blow. The pain that followed them certainly felt as powerful as a physical one.

“You knew what he did to her, you knew he raped her, and you never told me?” Nathan whispered, afraid that if he shouted he would never regain control over his voice or his actions. At this moment, he wasn’t certain what he was capable of.

His mother got to her feet at that and spun on her husband with a gasp of pure dismay. “Arthur!
No
, you didn’t. You didn’t cause that poor woman to be attacked!”

When his father turned on his mother, the Marquis’ face was pale as a ghost. “He was only supposed to hold her, Phillipa. I swear to you.”

“But he didn’t just hold her, did he, Father?”

Nathan was shocked that his tone was even remotely calm considering he had a powerful urge to throttle the man who had sired and raised him. A man he had loved.

“I wasn’t responsible for what he did to her,” his father said, his tone becoming defensive. “Whatever she told you, we came to terms. I paid her quite handsomely for her pain and trouble.”

His mother hissed out a breath and paced away. Nathan watched her for a moment. It seemed she could empathize with Cassandra’s experience, even if his father was trapped in denial and justification.

“Did you?” Nathan choked. “How much was that horrible experience worth to you, I wonder? As if your money could have ever erased what you did, what you caused.”

His father shook his head. “Do you mean you didn’t know?”

Nathan sighed. “No, my lord. Although Cassandra did confess tonight about the attack upon her, under great duress, she did not betray your actions. She protected you.”

He moved for the door, unable to look at his father any longer. He was unable to face the past any longer and know that his part in it had been just as devastating to Cassandra as any other.

“She protected me,” Nathan said softly. “Even though I have done nothing to deserve her consideration.”

His father limped around the table, clinging to its edge as he did so. “You can speak to me in such dismissive terms, you can blame me for everything that happened four years ago, but there is something you must remember.”

Nathan spun back, just barely reining in the violence of his anger, the nausea that boiled within him as he stared at the face of this…this
stranger
. “And what is that, Father?”

“I may have created the lie,” his father said, a cough beginning to rise up between his words. “But you were quick to believe it, my boy. What does that tell you? What does that say?”

“Arthur!” his mother burst out, rushing across the room, to position herself between the two men. Clearly, she sensed her son’s pure rage and his ability, at that moment, to forget that this frail man was his father.

But Nathan’s rage was deflating. His father had said almost the exact same words that Cassandra had said earlier that night. And just as they had in that moment, they rang just as true now. In the end, the problems between him and Cassandra hadn’t been created by his father or the lies. They had been created because Nathan hadn’t had faith.

And as he walked away from his family home, he knew that was something he could never repair and never take back.

C
assandra watched as her maids folded her clothing, carefully placing it in trunk after trunk under her watchful eye. When the door behind her opened, she turned away from the servants and managed a weak smile as Elinor stepped into the room.

“I see you are almost finished here,” her friend said, as she came to Cassandra’s side and slipped an arm through hers.

Cassandra sighed as she rested her head on Elinor’s shoulder. “I am, indeed. Only a few more things and I shall be ready to go to Bath for the remainder of the Season.”

“I will miss you quite desperately,” her friend said with a sad sigh. “But I truly believe this is the best course of action for you, my dear. You need the break away from London, from the matrons of the
ton
and from…”

Her friend trailed off and Cassandra’s smile fell. “And from Nathan. You may say his name, I will not shatter.”

It had been a week since she had seen him, since she had poured her pain out to him. In that time, her only contact with him had been a brief note that only said, “I’m sorry.”

She had it in her pelisse pocket where she could touch it whenever she desired.

“I know you won’t,” her friend said softly. “You are too strong to shatter.”

Cassandra shrugged one shoulder. She could debate that point with her friend if she had the energy. But instead, she said, “This ‘break,’ as you call it, may be good for me, but it will wreak havoc on my business. I shall likely lose many customers to other seamstresses. And the customers who desire my toys…”

Elinor laughed. “Will order them through normal means and wait the extra time it takes for you to send them back to London if they need them desperately.”

“I suppose,” Cassandra conceded with a sigh.

Her friend patted her hand. “I have put a great deal of thought into the matter since you told me you wanted to leave the city and I actually think this time away could make you even more sought after. The upper class always wants what they cannot have more than what is right in front of them. They sometimes break embargoes in the name of fashion, why would they not travel to Bath?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“At any rate, I shall make sure that the gowns you finished are
delivered. And when orders for toys come in from the gentlemen, I will be here to forward the information on to you and collect their money.” Elinor smiled. “You may depend upon me.”

“I always have,” Cassandra said, touching her friend’s cheek. Then she let her hands flutter down around her waist. She smoothed her skirt restlessly. “But there is one more thing to discuss. If Nathan does come here—”

“He shall not hear where you are from me,” Elinor said, her expression turning angry and sour. “No one shall.”

“Not even me?”

Both women turned as Stephan Undercliffe strode into the bedchamber with a wide smile. He took off his hat and gave the women a bow. Relief flooded Cassandra. Since the day when he had almost confessed his true feelings for her, they had not spent time together. She actually feared that their old friendship had been irrevocably damaged. But seeing him, his easy smile just as it had always been and his eyes sparkling with mischief, not sadness or regret, she was put at ease.

“Of course
you
shall know where I am,” she teased. “I was about to write you a note to tell you my direction in Bath in case you came to take the waters later in the Season.”

“Ah, yes, the curative waters.” Stephan winked. “
Delicious
.”

She laughed for the first time in days at his comment. The waters of Bath were as known for their terrible taste as they were for their supposed healing powers.

Then he grew serious. “Do you think I might have a moment with you in private, Cassandra?”

She couldn’t help but stiffen slightly, yet he had always been a good friend to her. She couldn’t deny him this. She nodded toward the servants still buzzing about her chamber.

“Please go to my workroom and begin packing there.” She tilted her head toward Elinor. “Will you oversee that?”

Elinor nodded and gave Stephan a brief smile. “Of course.”

Once they were alone, Stephan’s smile faded a fraction. “The waters do not cure a broken heart, you know.”

She flinched. “Am I so obvious?”

“Only to one who knows the truth,” he reassured her, as he reached out to squeeze her hand. “Since Lord Blackhearth did not arrive on my doorstep demanding satisfaction, I assume you never told him that you and I had renewed our ‘affiliation.’ Are you running away from London as an alternative?”

Cassandra laughed bitterly. “I did tell him. He did not believe me.”

“I am wounded,” Stephan chuckled, though the sound was gentle, not mocking. “He did not believe my charms to be irresistible to you?”

She shrugged. “Shocking, I realize. Actually, it truly
was
a shock to me. Years ago, he was willing to think the worst of me, upon only hearsay. But when he heard the same from my own lips, he would not take it as fact.”

She frowned. And it hadn’t been guilt that had made him disbelieve she would be untrue. She had told him about Stephan
before
she revealed the truth about the attack upon her.

Stephan seemed to consider that for a long while. “Perhaps
the man has changed,” he offered. “Perhaps he has faith now. Faith in you and in what you share.”

She shivered. How many times had she wished for such a thing in the time they had been parted? But now…it was terrifying.

“Are you certain you want to walk away? It is clear that leaving London, leaving this man, pains you greatly.” He touched her cheek. “I hate to see it.”

“This is what needs to happen,” she whispered, moving away from his touch to pace around her nearly empty room. She kept hoping if she said those words enough times, she would believe them.

Stephan made no move to follow her as she paced. “Yes, but it is difficult to get what we need when it isn’t what we truly want.”

“You are a good friend,” she mused, smiling at him as she turned back. “I hope that never changes.”

She saw his smile falter just a fraction. “It never will.”

With a shake of her head, she forced herself to lighten her mood. “I have no time to talk nonsense with you, Mr. Undercliffe. I have much to do to prepare for my journey.”

His brow wrinkled with concern and she came to him with the brightest smile she could manage. “Do not fret over me, dearest Stephan. I shall go to Bath, and I shall take the waters, and I shall forget.”

He stroked a finger over her cheekbone. “You shall not forget, Cass. But I hope you will be happy.”

She held back a sob as his arms came around her and he hugged her. Not as a former lover, not as a man who had feelings she could never return…but as her friend. And she clung to him as she tried to ignore how true his words were.

When Stephan Undercliffe strode into Nathan’s private room at his club and slammed the door in the face of the exquisitely liveried servant who was chasing him, Nathan could do nothing to mask his utter surprise. After their brief encounter at the Whipplesham soiree, and after Cassandra tried to convince him that the two had become lovers again, he hadn’t expected to see Undercliffe.

And yet now Cassandra’s former lover stood before Nathan with his arms folded, glaring daggers into him. Quietly, he folded his paper and set it on the small table beside his leather chair. He hoped his curiosity was not as evident to the other man as it was to him.

“Good afternoon, Undercliffe,” he drawled. “I don’t recall asking you to join me, but I do have some excellent scotch here and a few fine cigars.”

“I don’t want your damn liquor,” Undercliffe snapped, his normally wickedly playful expression surprisingly serious. “I came here to tell you that you are a fucking idiot of the highest order and you should be drawn and quartered for what you’ve done to Cassandra.”

Nathan winced. It had been a fortnight since he spoke to Cassandra. How many times had he gotten on his horse and
headed for her home, only to stop himself? A dozen? A hundred? A thousand? He ached to see her, to hold her, to talk to her…but she had asked him to let her go.

And the very least he could do was follow that directive.

“The blackmail you mean?” he asked dully, taking a huge swig of his stale drink. “Yes, I think we’ve established that I’m a horrible, terrible man. But that is over. She has nothing left to fear.”

“Not the blackmail, you sapscull!” Undercliffe strode to the opposite side of the room and glared at him. “I’m talking about letting her go.”

“Letting her go? Where has she gone?” Nathan asked, rising to his feet.

Undercliffe looked at Nathan like he had lit a fire on the crown of his own head. “She went to Bath three days ago. She left London. The way she behaved before she went, she might never return.”

Nathan collapsed back into the chair with a sharp exhalation of breath. His chest ached. She was gone. He would never accidentally encounter her at his aunt’s, or see her on the street, or be able to pass by her window and peek in on her again.

“It is…” He shook his head. “It is for the best. I hurt her. I believed the worst of her when she had never given me any indication that she wasn’t to be believed. And indirectly or not, I caused something horrible to happen to her.”

Undercliffe wrinkled his brow in confusion and Nathan
leaned back in his chair. The other man didn’t know the whole story. It was just as well, for he would probably try to kill Nathan if he knew what Cassandra had been through. Not that he didn’t deserve that and worse.

“She asked me to leave her alone,” Nathan finished with a sigh. “The best I can do for her now is to do that. Perhaps she will be happy in Bath.”

Undercliffe stared at him before he grabbed for the fine bottle of scotch and poured himself a tall drink of it. As he sat down in a seat across from Nathan, he shook his head.

“You know what your problem is, your lordship? It’s that you are nothing more than a spoiled, titled infant.”

Both Nathan’s eyebrows came up. He had been called many things in his life, but never that. He didn’t know whether to be offended or to laugh.

“I beg your pardon?”

Undercliffe took a sip of his scotch and his eyes went wide when he tasted the high quality alcohol. He lifted his glass before he said, “I think you heard me perfectly damn well. You have been given everything you ever wanted your entire life. You never had to work or fight or sacrifice for anything. But with Cassandra, it is different. And yet, despite the fact that she is a jewel amongst women and you don’t deserve to
look
at her, let alone love her, you still aren’t willing to fight. To sacrifice for her.”

He snorted his disgust.

Nathan stared at the man even harder. “And you know all
this because you know me so well,” he said, dry. Although despite his attitude the things this man was saying actually rang true. Not that he would give Undercliffe the satisfaction of admitting that.

“Trust me, I know you. I grew up with a man exactly like you.” Undercliffe shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. “My older brother never had to earn anything either and he still doesn’t. Being titled doesn’t make you wise or good, that is for certain. It just makes you rich and pompous.”

“That may be true,” Nathan admitted finally with a shrug. “But trust me that it is a sacrifice to stay away from Cassandra. It kills me to follow her bidding.”

“Do forgive me if I don’t grant you a medal for your honor,” Undercliffe snorted. “I saw Cassandra before she departed for Bath and she is miserable without you.”

“What?” Nathan breathed, a faint flicker of hope awakening inside of him.

Undercliffe rolled his eyes like Nathan was daft. “You are honoring the wrong request, you dolt. I’m sure somewhere in the past you two share, she asked you to love her.”

Nathan nodded, assaulted by his memories of a younger Cassandra, untouched by tragedy, giving herself to him so freely, telling him she loved him, and asking him if he could ever love her, even though they lived such different lives.

“Then honor that request. Love her. Go to her.
Fight
, maybe for the first time in your pampered life. Lower yourself, offer her anything she desires, give her everything she deserves. Do whatever you have to do.”

Nathan blinked. “Obviously you care deeply for Cassandra. Why would you suggest that I go to her if you think she desires me? Why not take advantage of this situation, yourself?”

The fire left the other man’s stare in an instant. “Because I do love her. And she loves you. I want her to be happy and you are the one who will do that if you drag your sorry head out of your sorrier ass.”

Nathan dipped his chin. Here was a man willing to make the ultimate sacrifice just to see Cassandra happy. It shamed him, yet again, to think that he hadn’t been ready to go so far. But he was now. And he would make it up to her for the rest of her life if she would allow him to speak.

“I owe you an apology,” Nathan said, as he moved for the door. “When we met I hated that you had been something to Cassandra. I hated that you had ever touched her. But you are obviously a good friend to her. You helped her when she was broken, and you healed her when I was too foolish to do the same. So I owe you a great deal.”