A False Proposal (26 page)

“I’m sorry, Cass. I’m sure Papa had no idea Bentley would take his life, let alone blame you for it.”

“No.” She’d thought she would feel elation. Vindication. Instead, it was as though a huge empty space had opened up in her chest.

Jack, perhaps sensing her odd reaction, rose and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. “You can marry Adam now, Cass. No more obstacles.”

Again she said, “No.”

His eyes searched her face. “What? Whyever not?”

Cass withdrew her hands and mustered herself. Jack needed a reason why she would still refuse Adam, and it was down to her to make it clear. “I would be an embarrassment to him, Jack. My reputation as the woman who caused my betrothed’s death will always be there, just waiting to be stirred up by gossips and rumormongers. It’s a relief to have this explanation—possible explanation—of Bentley’s motives, but it doesn’t change my standing in society.”

“But that’s based on a lie!”

“Possibly. But we’re only going on assumptions. And besides, we can’t very well announce the truth, or what we believe to be the truth, to the
ton
.”

Her brother threw his hands up. “You’re making a mistake if you don’t accept Adam, Cass. He loves you.”

“But does he love me enough? In the end I might cost him his career. I can’t let that happen. I will not allow that to happen.”

Cass leaned her head against the cushions, and after a moment, the door closed quietly. She did not move until it was time to dress for dinner.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

One week. One entire week had passed since Cass had refused Adam’s marriage proposal. His inability to change anything, and his corresponding level of frustration, were making him crazy, so when he spotted Brandon sauntering through the main room of White’s, he saw red. Literally. Streams of crimson rippled in his vision. How dare the man stroll about as though he bore no responsibility for rekindling the rumor and innuendo about Cassie?

Brandon stopped here and there to greet his cronies, as though he were the goddam Prime Minister. It turned Adam’s stomach. He wanted to pommel the bastard until he couldn’t get up. When he was within range, Adam stood and blocked his way.

“Hullo, Grey.” Brandon looked Adam up and down contemptuously. “What can I do for you?”

“You will remove the wager relating to my fiancée and myself from the books. Now.”

“It’s just a bit of fun, man. Where’s your sense of humor?” He laughed, brayed like a donkey, although Adam could tell he was uneasy.

Adam’s hand shot out and fisted the front of Brandon’s fine lawn shirt, pulling him close. “I don’t find it in the least amusing.”

Not content with the degree of ire he’d already raised, Brandon plunged in further. “You’re insane if you marry that chit. Everybody knows it will ruin your prospects.”

Adam hauled off and punched him.

Conversations soon ceased, and the members began to gather round. By the time management intervened, telling them to take it outside, Adam had thrown several more punches and deflected a few from his opponent. Now breathing heavily, both men were carried along in the tide of their crazed friends who were hungry for blood, and ended up on St. James Street, beneath the bow window.

They circled each other, fists raised. Brandon lunged, landing a glancing blow to Adam’s jaw.
Hell and damnation, that hurts.
Adam sucked in a breath and threw a solid punch to Brandon’s chest, knocking the other man backward. He stumbled and fell on his arse. Adam knew it was time to call a halt, but his temper was still raging. He threw himself atop the other man and pounded his ribs and chest, face and head. Blood poured from Brandon’s nose.

That was when somebody clasped Adam from behind and separated him from his prey. Two somebodies, as it turned out. “Are you crazy, man? Do you want to kill him?” The voice belonged to Jack, and Atherton was with him.

“As a matter of fact,” Adam said between gasps, “I do.”

The crowd quickly dispersed. Brandon went off with his friends to God knew where, and Adam made no further protest when his rescuers escorted him to down the street to the York Coffeehouse.

Jack heaved him onto a bench, then left to order coffees for all of them. Atherton stopped a serving girl and asked for water. He dipped his handkerchief into it and passed it to Adam. Wiping his face, Adam was surprised to see his adversary had drawn blood.

“I think it’s Brandon’s blood,” Atherton said. “Christ, Adam, if I’d known you were going to do something like this, I’d never have told you who put the wager in the books.”

“Too late now,” Adam said.

Jack returned with the coffees and started in on him. “Have you lost all reason? You’ll be kicked out of White’s. Branded as a lunatic. What got into you?”

By now, Adam was cooling off. He knew he’d acted stupidly. Christ, he might have killed the man if his friends hadn’t come along when they did. “It was Brandon who put the wager in the books.”

Jack tried to suppress a grin, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Ah. Well, at least you had a reason for acting like a maniac.”

They drank their coffee in silence for a few minutes. Jack turned to Atherton and said, “Look, old man, Adam and I have some private matters to discuss. Do you mind?”

“Not in the least,” Atherton said, always the accommodating gentleman.

When he’d gone, Jack said, “I have some information for you.” Adam’s attention never wavered while his friend related everything Cass had told him about Bentley’s death, including his final words to her.

“That bastard,” Adam said. “Too bad he’s already dead. I’d love to kill him myself.”

“Calm yourself. There’s more.” Jack filled him in on the details he’d learned from Fairbrook.

A little flicker of optimism kindled in Adam’s weary soul. “What did Cass say? Has this convinced her she bears no blame for Bentley’s death?”

“I think it has. But being relieved of that burden doesn’t seem to have changed her mind about accepting you. Stubborn girl believes marriage to her will ruin your political prospects.”

Given what Brandon had said mere moments ago, Adam understood. Cassie was too smart not to know what the
ton
thought about a marriage between them, and her instinct was to protect him. It was part of the reason she’d refused him in the first place, and part of the reason he loved her. There had to be something else he could do to change her mind, to win her over despite her misgivings.

“If only there was some way to alter society’s perception of her. Or to convince her it
could
change.” If only somebody close to Bentley could stand up for her, defend her. But the man was too long dead. It seemed hopeless.

“I don’t see how we could bring that about.” Jack said, his brow furrowing.

Adam remained quiet for a moment, pondering, his disjointed thoughts careening into each other. Then, in a blinding flash of inspiration, he had it. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

He leaned closer to Jack. “Is the Earl of Wilton still living? Bentley’s father?”

…

Sun streamed through the windows of the small dining room. Cass and Jack were eating breakfast and leafing through the morning papers. When Willis brought in the post on a salver, Cass glanced up. “A parcel for you as well, Miss Linford,” he said, placing it before her.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Cass put aside her tea and scone and gave her full attention to the parcel. Hurriedly, she untied the string and ripped off the paper. When she recognized the contents, tears welled in her eyes. Where was the note? She found it under the wrappings and unsealed it.

6 July

Dearest Cassie,

I began to search for your father’s book after the house party, when I came up to town by myself. This volume led me on a merry chase, my love, from Ludgate Hill, to Paternoster Row, and St.Paul’s Churchyard. It gave me great joy to find it for you, and I hope it makes you happy.

Yours always, A.

Somehow, despite the odds against finding one of the few existing copies of her father’s myths, Adam had done it. When she opened the cover, her heart nearly leaped from her chest. Her initials were on the flyleaf. It was her own copy.

She must have made a sound, then, because Jack looked up, obviously alarmed. “What is it, Cass?” Emotion crowding her throat, she couldn’t speak. She handed Jack the book and the note.

A huge grin popped out on her brother’s face. “If you think finding that book is the best thing he’s done, you must read this.” He held out the Morning
Post
. “The man adores you, Cass. You’re a fool if you don’t marry him.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

He lifted his brows. “Read it and see.”

She sat, spreading the paper out on the table. The piece Jack was referring to was on page three, directly under a list of the comings and goings of various worthies of the
ton
.

A FATHER SETS THE RECORD STRAIGHT

It has recently come to my attention that vicious rumors continue to circulate regarding the manner of my son’s death, which occurred more than two years ago. I wish to lay them to rest once and for all. I have learned that among some members of the ton, Miss Cassandra Linford, his fiancée at the time, has been blamed for his demise. Be assured that nothing could be further from the truth. My son, Oliver, Viscount Bentley, took his own life by shooting himself with a pistol. Miss Linford was the unfortunate witness to this sad event, but bears no responsibility whatsoever for his suicide. She acted with integrity during the aftermath, never speaking of it publicly, nor offering up the particulars to the newspapers or scandalmongers.

After my son’s death, my family and I understandably were mired in grief. I got wind of the rumors about Miss Linford and assumed they would fade away, as these things usually do. I should have put paid to them the moment they surfaced, as they were not only unfounded, but cruel. To this day, I regret that I did not. My only son, my heir, had just died, and I wasn’t able to summon the courage it would have taken to set things right.

Allow me to do so now. Miss Linford has suffered enough. She is blameless in my son’s death. I pray that London society will welcome her fully and cease any further baseless speculation regarding her involvement in Viscount Bentley’s death.

Wilton

7 July

When she’d finished reading, Cass looked up at her brother. “I must go to Adam. Call for the carriage while I change.”

“He’s not in town, Cass. He told me he was spending a week in Haslemere to help with the haying on the home farm.”

“Do you mean at his father’s estate?” she asked.

“Yes. But he’s staying at his mother’s place.”

Cass leaped to her feet. “Then that’s where I’ll go.” When Jack started to protest, she interrupted. “Don’t you dare try to stop me, Jack. Agnes will accompany me, and there will be plenty of servants around. You need not worry.”

…

Every muscle in Adam’s torso ached. Despite that, he loved the feeling of accomplishment helping with the harvest brought. He hadn’t been around to do it in years. And in his current state of mind, the wielding of the scythe also brought him a physical release he badly needed. When he’d returned to Deborah’s home at the end of the day, he stopped only long enough to grab a bar of soap and a towel before hurrying to the lake and diving into the water. He’d washed and dried himself, then dressed in clean buff britches and a linen shirt.

Sitting on the steps of the folly, elbows on knees, he ruminated about his day. It was Hugh who’d sent Adam a note inviting him to come down for the haying. Perhaps unduly optimistic, Adam viewed this as a tentative step toward reconciliation. He hadn’t seen his brother since their unpleasant encounter at Longmere. Today, Hugh had been civil, if not overly friendly. Adam knew Hugh needed time, but that did not stop him wishing things were different between them. He could use a friend right now. In the future, he would try his best to mend their relationship, and conceivably, at some point, his brother would meet him halfway.

And then Adam’s thoughts drifted to Cass. Had she received the book? Many times he’d imagined her opening it, the look of joy that would light up her face when she recognized it. And the article. Had it appeared yet? He’d gotten back in touch with the Earl to make sure the old man had arranged everything with the
Post
, but left London before the piece was published. There was nothing to be done now except wait until he returned to Town. Then he would know everything. The book and the article, they were his last, best hope.

He glanced up. A figure was walking toward him. Was it…could it be? He couldn’t take his eyes off her. And she was hurrying toward him. Practically running. He rose and went to meet her.

…

A thrill rippled through Cass at the moment Adam recognized her. She quickened her pace, a laugh bubbling up from her chest.

When she neared him, he held his arms out. “My love,” he said, crushing her against him and sending Cass’s heart spinning. “Come.” They walked back toward the folly, still clinging to each other.

Her heart was so full. She wanted to thank him for all he had done, but he stopped her. “A moment, darling. First let me say something.” They were still standing. Adam untied her bonnet, removed it, and threw it down on the steps. Then he grasped her arms and pulled her closer to him.

“Do you remember our first meeting here?”

Her face heated at the memory. How she’d thrown herself at him, telling him she wanted him to make love to her. “Of course.”

His gaze was steady, never leaving her face. “When we met here the first time, it was about desire.”

She felt the heat in her face grow more fierce, if that were possible.

“Now it is about something more than that. Make no mistake, I want you back in my bed, Cassie, but not unless you love me. Not unless you’ll marry me.”

The tears started. Placing her hands on his chest, she said, “The book. Thank you, Adam. It’s the nicest gift anyone has ever given me. I love you even more for it. And Wilton’s article in the
Post
. I don’t know how you convinced him to—”

He cut her off. “These things are nothing unless they caused you to have a change of heart.” He led her to the steps and they sat down. Enfolding her hands in his, he said, “Let’s never again let my father or Bentley control us. They hurt us, scarred us in more ways than one. That’s over. From now on, nothing matters except you and me and our love. Agreed?”

She nodded, her throat too thick to respond.

“I did not expect to see you here, Cassie, but it means the world to me that you came.” He gave her a roguish grin. “Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

She reached up and cupped his face in her hand. “Yes. For the love of God, yes.”

Adam’s eyes strayed to the folly. “There’s a settee in there,” he said. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to make love on it.”