Snowbound With The Baronet (21 page)

If so, he must make certain she understood.

“That was fine bit of entertainment, if I do say so,” Mr. Martin declared. “I doubt you would find better between London and Bath. Now if our king and queen would care to lead off the first dance.”

He tucked the fiddle under his chin and struck up a lively tune. “Let us begin with
The Indian Queen
. Though for this evening perhaps we should rename it
The Twelfth Night Queen
.”

Imogene bounced up from her chair and extended a hand to Edward. “Shall we then? It is our duty as king and queen.”

The lad grinned and blushed but accepted her invitation readily enough.

Meanwhile Brandon strode toward the window seat before any of the other men could reach it.

“You promised me a dance,” he reminded Cassandra. “I mean to claim it before you are overwhelmed with requests.”

“Of course I remember.” She rose and joined him as second couple to his cousin and the footman. “Though I do not believe my company will be as sought after as you expect.”

The older folk seemed content to let the younger ones have the floor for the first dance.

Mr. Martin had made an excellent choice, Brandon reflected as they began to dance. The steps were simple enough and did not require a great deal of space to execute. His only regret was that the dance did not require him to perform any two-handed turns with Cassandra.

No sooner had the first dance concluded than the stagecoach driver asked Cassandra to be his partner for the next. Reluctantly, Brandon surrendered her and withdrew to the far corner of the parlor where Mrs. Martin sat.

He approached her with a gallant bow. “Will you do me the honor of the next dance, ma’am?”

“With pleasure, Sir Brandon, though I shall not be able to match the grace of your first partner. You and she make a handsome couple, I must say. I hope to see the two of you dance together often tonight.”

Brandon could not help smiling. “I shall endeavor to gratify your wish, ma’am.”

He was as good as his word, dancing several more times with Cassandra, though far less often than he would have liked. If it would not have violated all propriety, he’d have bribed every other man present a hundred pounds to claim
their
turns with the lady.

As the evening wore on, he found himself standing beside Mrs. Martin again. He was about to ask her to take another turn with him when she nodded toward the dancers.

“Lady Cassandra looks rather flushed, don’t you think?” Their hostess sounded concerned, though Brandon approved the rosy glow of Cassandra’s complexion. “Someone ought to take her out to the kitchen where it is cooler and see that she gets a drink. Could I prevail upon you, Sir Brandon?”

“I should be happy to help ma’am.” If he had not feared her husband would take it amiss, he might have kissed Mrs. Martin then and there. “After all, we would not want Lady Cassandra to get overheated and fall ill.”

Their hostess beamed up at him. “I knew I could depend upon you.”

Brandon edged around the perimeter of the room until he reached the passageway to the kitchen. He waited for the dance to finish, then beckoned Cassandra to join him. “Mrs. Martin thinks you look flushed. I am under strict orders to escort you to the kitchen to cool off.”

“Are you, indeed?” Cassandra pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I could do with a drink. I have not danced so much in...”

“Four years?” Brandon suggested as he led her toward the kitchen. “Oddly enough, that is how long it has been since I last enjoyed myself so much.”

“It is?” She sounded doubtful.

He gave a decisive nod. “I would not exaggerate. You know what store I set by the truth.”

The kitchen was cooler than the parlor—dimmer and quieter too.

Brandon turned to face Cassandra. “I enjoyed your song very much. I fancied you were addressing its words to me. Indeed, I wished you were.”

This broad hint regarding his feelings did not seem to please her as he’d hoped. Her gaze fell and she caught her full lower lip between her teeth. “I wish that were possible, but—”

Before she could say anything more, Brandon pressed his forefinger to her lips. “Let there be no
buts
tonight. This is Twelfth Night, when three kings followed a star halfway around the world to bring priceless gifts to an infant born in a stable. On such a night, surely anything we want enough must be possible.”

Strong-willed though he knew Cassandra to be, she did not resist him. Instead she submitted as if she were powerless against his gentle touch. For his part, Brandon had no power to resist the urge that took possession of him. Lifting his finger, he leaned toward her and replaced it with his lips.

This was the kiss he’d been saving for their betrothal—the kiss he had been deprived of four years ago. The desire for it had lingered on his lips ever since, subtly poisoning every bite or sip he took in and every word he let out. Tonight, win or lose, he must have it!

Her lips yielded to the tender pressure of his. They fell open just enough to release a soft gasp of surprise... and... joy? Then to his delight, she raised one hand to caress his cheek and began to kiss him back with innocent ardor that made his breath catch and his heart skip.

Time slowed like thick, golden resin on a cold day. Brandon would gladly have been caught forever in the moment as it turned to amber.

Then a sharp gasp pierced their sweet bubble of isolation. Cassandra stiffened and pulled away from him. She turned toward the sound, just as his did.

Brandon’s gaze collided with his cousin’s shocked, accusing stare.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded as if she truly was his sovereign and he owed her an explanation.

But he did not, Brandon reminded himself. He was doing nothing wrong. Indeed he had never done anything that felt so right.

“I think the meaning should be perfectly obvious, Imogene. I am in love with Lady Cassandra and intend to propose to her again, if you will give us a moment’s privacy.”

Mrs. Martin appeared at his cousin’s elbow just then and tried to make her leave them in peace. But Imogene wrenched her arm from the woman’s touch. “What about Miss Reynolds?” she demanded.

His cousin’s question made Brandon’s insides contract into a cold little ball of lead that plummeted into his toes.

But that was nothing to the dismay that gripped him when Cassandra echoed his cousin’s words, more in sorrow than anger. “Tell us, Sir Brandon. What about Miss Reynolds?”

A
TEMPEST OF
conflicting emotions raged within Cassandra’s heart as she stood in the Martins’ kitchen with Brandon’s kiss still tingling upon her lips.

Part of her longed to seek comfort in the shelter of his protective, tender embrace. Yet her rigorous conscience warned her she would find no sanctuary there, only confusion and perhaps more shame.

The contempt with which Imogene Calvert regarded her stung Cassandra’s pride like caustic lye. What made it all the worse was that she could not deny her wrongdoing. She had allowed Brandon to kiss her. Then she had kissed him back with ardent abandon even though she knew he intended to marry Miss Reynolds. Deluding herself that Brandon wanted nothing more than friendship, she had led him on all evening to do something they would both regret.

Did he love her, as he claimed to his cousin, and truly wish to marry her? Or was he only trying to protect her from the consequences of her folly by offering to do the honorable thing? Knowing his chivalrous nature, she feared it must be the latter. But how could she subject him to such a union when a much more suitable match awaited him elsewhere?

Were the same thoughts racing through Brandon’s mind as his mouth opened and closed but emitted no sound?

At last he mastered his voice to address his cousin. “None of this is any of your concern, Imogene, particularly my intentions toward Isabella Reynolds! That is a matter I wish to discuss with Lady Cassandra, if you will give us a little privacy by returning to the parlor.”

“I will not!” Miss Calvert’s grey eyes flashed with glints of steel. “Not while you are under the spell of this nefarious creature! Only this morning she swore that she had no designs upon you. Yet she has been throwing herself at your head ever since. You always go on about how important it is to tell the truth. How can you think of marrying such a conniving liar?”

Cassandra flinched from Miss Calvert’s harsh accusation which she feared was far too true, in spite of her efforts to persuade herself otherwise.

Brandon took a step toward his cousin, stabbing the air with the forefinger he had recently rested against Cassandra’s lips. “You will take back that vile insult at once if you wish us to remain friends, Imogene. The lady is not a liar! She did not have designs upon me nor did she pursue me—quite the opposite, in fact. That does not mean she has no feelings for me or could not learn to care for me.”

Learn
to care? If she had needed teaching, Brandon’s gallant defense of her would have provided a compelling lesson. If only she was worthy of his staunch support.

But did he truly believe what he had told his cousin? Poisonous doubt whispered in the back of Cassandra’s mind. Or was he only trying to prevent any cruel gossip that might arise if she agreed to marry him—gossip that would reflect ill upon him and their family?

Well he need not fret about such things. She had no intention of saddling him with a wife whose only dowry would be debt and dishonor. She had protected him before from her father’s selfish rapacity. Now she must protect him from his own misplaced charity.

“Please, Brandon.” She placed a restraining hand on his arm, in part because she could not resist the urge to touch him for perhaps the last time. “Do not quarrel with your cousin on my account. You do not need to defend me.”

He turned toward her but before he could reply, Imogene Calvert unleashed her final blast. “Why will you not see her for what she is, cuz? Ask her why she is going to visit her aunt, why don’t you? There is some secret behind it that she does not want you to know. The other morning, when she thought I was sleeping, I heard her tell her friend not to mention the reason. No doubt it is some scandal she means to conceal until she is certain she had secured you. Promise me you will not propose to her until you have learned the truth!”

Cassandra shrank from the look in his eyes—wounded, disillusioned sorrow that cut her to the core. He believed his cousin’s accusation, as well he should. What scandal did he imagine she had committed to merit her exile to rural Somerset and the strict, respectable guardianship of her great-aunt?

Of course her secret was nothing so sordid, but how could she tell him that? Learning of her straitened circumstances might make Brandon more determined than ever to stand by her, even when it was clear he could never fully trust her.

Mrs. Martin’s simmering exasperation with Imogene Calvert finally reached a boil. “I reckon you have said more than enough, young lady. Now come away at once and let these two sort out matters for themselves.”

Miss Calvert crossed her arms in front of her and fired off a defiant reply. “I told you, I have no intention of leaving my cousin alone with that creature. She will only get around him with more of her simpering lies!”

For the first time since Brandon’s cousin had begun to berate her, Cassandra took offense. She might not have been as open and truthful with him as she should, but she had never
simpered
!

Clearly Mrs. Martin was not about to let her young nemesis have the last word. “I will thank you to remember that you are a guest in
my
house, Miss Calvert. If you refuse to do as I ask then you are welcome to sleep in the barn tonight!”

“The barn?” Imogene squealed. “You wouldn’t!”

The farmer’s wife leveled a stony stare at her. “Just you try me.”

“It’s not fair!” Imogene stormed, though it was clear she was not prepared to risk Mrs. Martin’s threat. “I am only trying to save my cousin from a dreadful mistake.”

She began inching out of the kitchen. “Please, Brandon, do not let her persuade you to do something you are sure to regret for the rest of your life!”

If only Brandon’s cousin knew how unnecessary her warning was, Cassandra reflected.
She
had no intention of persuading the baronet to do anything he might regret. The harder task would be to keep him from persuading her to heed the pleadings of her wayward heart rather than the righteous dictates of her conscience.

“I thought she would never leave.” Brandon muttered as fiddle music from the parlor drowned out his cousin’s voice.

Though he tried to sound and feel relieved at Imogene’s going, part of him was not. Now there was nothing to keep him from speaking to Cassandra when caution urged him to fly as far away from her as he could get.

The sweet taste of her kiss still lingered on his lips and his heart throbbed with his reawakened love for her. Only a moment ago, he had declared that love and his intention to propose to her again. But how could he? He and Cassandra had both concealed important information from one another and they both knew it.

Could there be any surer sign that they might be doomed to repeat the disastrous mistakes of his parents? Were all marriages like that in the end—a sham of happiness hiding deceit and misery? Certainly Cassandra’s experiences bore out that cynical notion. Brandon did not want such a union for them and especially not for any innocent children they might bring into such a benighted family.

But how could he turn his back on Cassandra after he had compromised her reputation with that kiss and declared his intention to ask for her hand? Must he choose between a lifetime of regret and a lifetime of dishonor?

“Come...” He motioned her toward the table, still laid with the remains of their Twelfth Night feast. That jolly meal now seemed so long ago. “We need to talk, you and I.”

“Do we?” Cassandra marched toward the table but instead of taking a seat she began to clear the dishes away with unfeeling diligence. “Why? It is clear what took place this evening and it is scarcely a wonder, given the circumstances. Would it not be best for everyone simply to pretend it never happened?”