A Loving Spirit (18 page)

She remembered the conversation she and Antoinette had had about "planter sorts" when they first arrived at Royce Castle, and almost laughed aloud.

Laughed bitterly, for it had been funny when she had thought herself done with planters forever. It was not so funny now that there was one here before her.

"Of course, Lady Royce," she said. "It was very kind of you. Now, is there any tea left in that pot? I would dearly love a cup."

They went on conversing for another half hour, time Cassie filled with questions about friends and acquaintances, about the family who had bought most of her father's land, and Mrs. Bishop who lived in Negril. Mr. Bates often sent her "meaningful" glances, and she strongly suspected he had some purpose in coming here to see her. A purpose beyond paying respects to a former neighbor.

She did not want to know what that purpose was, did not want to deal with it. Not just now, anyway, while her emotions were in such disarray.

Her suspicions were confirmed when, as they all left the drawing room to change for luncheon, Mr. Bates caught her arm and drew her into a quiet corner of the foyer.

"I must speak with you, Miss Richards," he whispered.

"We
have
been speaking," Cassie said, feigning confusion. She tried to pull her arm from his grasp.

He gave her his condescending "dear little woman" smile, the one she remembered him giving his sister all the time. "We must speak alone. There is something I want to ask you."

Cassie repressed an irritated sigh. She had known this was coming, a renewal of his "suit." Perhaps a few months ago, when she was racked with homesickness, she might have accepted, out of sheer desperation. But not now.

This was her home now, she realized in one flash of consciousness. England was her home. And even if nothing ever happened between Phillip and herself, as she so hoped it would, she would never leave it.

But Mr. Bates
had
come a long way to see her. The least she could do was hear him out.

"Very well," she said. "Meet me in the drawing room this evening. Before supper. We should have a few moments before the others come down."

"Thank you, Miss Richards! You will not be sorry." Mr. Bates lifted her hand to his lips.

They felt dry and cold against her skin. Cassie shivered and pulled away, turning to go up the stairs. As she did so, she saw Phillip, standing silently in the library doorway.

His handsome face was utterly expressionless as he looked at her. Cassie took one step toward him, her mouth open to call his name. But he turned away from her, going back into the library and closing the door quietly.

Dejected, and more confused than ever, Cassie went on up the stairs to the silent haven of her chamber.

* * *

"I do not like that Mr. Bates at all," Louisa said, watching out the window of the East Tower as Mr. Bates and his colorful cousin walked about the castle gardens. "Why has he suddenly come here, making calf's eyes at Cassie and throwing all our good work into disarray?"

Lady Lettice, who sat by the empty fireplace grate with a book in her hands, nodded in agreement. She seemed oddly content this morning, not at all her usual acerbic self. Instead, she went about with a serene smile, as if a great weight had been lifted from her. Even Angelo was quieter. He had ceased complaining about food all the time, and now sat on the carpet at Lady Lettice's feet, playing a quiet game of Patience.

"I do not like him, either," Lady Lettice answered. "He seems—desperate. Slippery. He is here for something,
needs
something. And I fear it is not Miss Richards' heart he is after."

"What could it be?"

Lady Lettice shrugged. "Money, mayhaps? He seems just the sort to be a terrible gamester. Is Miss Richards wealthy?"

"I do not know," said Louisa. "She has some lovely clothes and some nice jewelry. I am not sure I would say she is
hugely
wealthy, though. Otherwise why would she live with her aunt and not in her own establishment?"

There was a great knocking and banging on the stairs, and Sir Belvedere emerged through the door. He pushed his visor back and said, "Have you
seen
those dreadful new visitors, my dear ladies? They are not gentlemen at all, I would say. They are assuredly up to something dastardly."

"How do you know?" Louisa asked him. "Did you discover something about them?"

"Not yet. I have not had the time."

"We do not like them, either," said Lady Lettice. She tapped one jewel-bedecked hand thoughtfully on the arm of her chair. "We shall just have to go spy on them! Discover what they are about."

Louisa's eyes sparkled. She truly loved nothing better than a spot of intrigue! "Yes! Let us go right now and search their rooms, while they are out in the garden. Or perhaps we should eavesdrop on them while they are unaware."

So the four of them joined hands and vanished in a flash from the East Tower, only to emerge a moment later behind the tall hedges of the garden maze.

* * *

Mr. Bates and Mr. Morland, completely unaware that they were being watched, sat on the marble benches at the center of the maze, placidly smoking and chatting, feeling quite pleased with themselves indeed.

"She is as good as mine, and her land with her," Mr. Bates said, flicking some of his cheroot ashes into the gardener's carefully tended chrysanthemums. "All I have to do is reach out and scoop her up."

Mr. Morland laughed and brushed some imaginary dust from the sleeve of his pink coat. "I must say, Paul, she did not look exactly ecstatic to see you. She didn't run right into your arms, or anything like that. In fact, I thought she was going to faint there for a moment."

Mr. Bates frowned. He had noticed that, as well. "She was just surprised, that is all. She was hardly expecting me, now, was she? She was overcome by the emotion of it." That had to be it, he assured himself. The silly gel had been giddy over him ever since they first met. She was ripe for falling into his arms—for handing over what he wanted.

He conveniently forgot the fact that she had turned down his ardent proposal on the docks in Jamaica and had gotten on the ship without a backward glance. It had just been shock, he thought, and perhaps a belief that he, the most sought-after bachelor of the West Indies, could not possibly be interested in
her.
She was small and dark, and the whole island knew she was a strange one. Look at her friendship with that native woman!

But now he would have to
make
her believe he was attracted to her. His future depended on it.

"She has agreed to see me this evening before supper," he said.

"Indeed?" his cousin drawled. "And what are you going to do? Clasp her in your arms, declare undying devotion? Beg her to elope with you? Say that you will die without her in your life?"

"I will ask her calmly to sell me the land at first. That would be the most sensible thing. And if that does not work... I will do whatever will be necessary." Why, he wondered, did upper-class girls have to be such a lot of trouble, anyway?

Mr. Morland shook his head mockingly. "Not your usual style of wooing at all. Usually you just snatch onto a woman and shout 'Brace yourself, m'dear.'" He had a hearty laugh at his own joke.

Mr. Bates scowled at him. "Well, that's not going to work with this particular female, now is it?"

Mr. Morland slowly sobered. "No. Not if you want to keep your plantation."

"That is the whole reason for this ridiculous excursion! She must agree to give me that land of hers. One way or another."

There was a sudden, sharp rustling in the hedges. Mr. Bates jumped up, looking frantically around. "Who is there?" he shouted. "Show yourself!"

But everything was silent; the only sound was the distant rush of the sea.

"Cousin," Mr. Morland said. "You are growing paranoid. This is not good at all."

"I am
not
paranoid," he murmured, sitting slowly back down on the bench. Yet he could not quite let go of the feeling that
someone
was watching him.

This whole place gave him the shivers and had ever since they first walked in the front door. There was just something not quite right about it.

The sooner he had Miss Richards' land and possibly her person, and they could leave, the better.

Chapter 19

"What do you suppose he wants, then?" Antoinette asked, helping Cassie dress her hair before supper, as Cassie was too nervous to do it herself.

"I have no idea." Cassie was just as puzzled as she had been when she first walked into the drawing room and saw Mr. Bates. She could flunk of no reason at all for him to come visit her, even if he
was
in England to see his grandfather. She had thought they said everything there was to say that day at the docks.

It was true that she had been rather good friends with his sister, and he had occasionally flirted with her, in a halfhearted way. His behavior had sometimes been flattering, but there was always
something
she could not quite like about him. Something evasive and odd.

That
something
seemed even stronger now than it had then.

For one moment, when she had first seen him, she had let herself indulge in the dream that he had come to declare his love for her, marry her, and take her back to her old life in Jamaica. Was that not what she had wanted ever since she came to England? To go back to Jamaica?

But now she found that that was no longer what she wanted at all. Her life there had been a good one, but it was behind her now.

And, even if it were not, she could not bear the thought of marrying a man like Mr. Bates. Not when she now knew the truth of what a man could be—honest, caring, strong without making others weak, intelligent, and willing to change when situations warranted.

Someone like Phillip.

Phillip, who had seen her in the corridor having her hand kissed by Mr. Bates. And just when things were going so well between them!

She would just have to talk to him, make him understand who Mr. Bates was. But not just yet. First she had to talk to Mr. Bates, and she only had enough strength for one thing at a time.

She reached for the carved ebony comb that had been her mother's, and placed it carefully in the low, braided twist of her hair Antoinette had finished. "Do I look all right?"

"All right for what?" Antoinette asked, peering in the mirror to straighten her own lavender-colored turban. "For running into Mr. Bates' arms and accepting his oh-so-romantic declarations?"

Cassie laughed. "Hardly! I am just praying he makes no declarations whatsoever tonight. I want to find out why he is here and send him on his way as soon as possible."

"On his way—alone?"

"Of course alone! What do you think, that I want to go with him? What fustian!"

Antoinette shrugged. "He would take you back to Jamaica."

"Nothing
would be worth being married to him. His hands are cold, and his eyes are—are empty."

"Just be careful, Cassie dear," Antoinette said, bending down to give her a quick, reassuring hug. "Are you certain you don't want me to come with you?"

Cassie shook her head, clinging to her friend. "I will only speak with him for a few minutes, and we will be in the drawing room, with the butler within calling distance."

"Very well. I will let you go down alone for a little while, but then I am going to come stand outside the drawing room door until I see him leave."

Cassie laughed. "My dear friend! What would I do without you?" She stood up, and straightened the folds of her emerald-green satin gown. "This will not take long at all, I am sure."

* * *

Soon after Cassie left her chamber, Louisa, Lady Lettice, Angelo, and Sir Belvedere appeared there, finding Antoinette alone, trying to read a book and biding her time until she could hurry downstairs.

"Where is Cassie?" Louisa asked.

"She has gone to meet with Mr. Bates," Antoinette answered.

"Oh, no! She cannot be alone with that dreadful man," Sir Belvedere cried. He paced the length of the floor, his armor rattling even more than usual in his agitation.