Read Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) Online

Authors: Constance O'Banyon

Tags: #Historical, #Romance, #Fiction, #Regency, #19th Century, #Adult, #Adventure, #Action, #SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE, #British Officer, #Protector, #England, #Five Years, #Treachery, #Duchess, #English Castle, #Battlefields, #Waterloo, #London, #Extraordinary Love, #Honor, #Passion, #DeWinter Family

Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (15 page)

BOOK: Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1)
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Over dinner that night Lady Mary said as much to her husband. “Now that the baby is with Kassidy, we will see her improve rapidly.”

“My dear,” said her practical husband, “think you that Henry will let Kassidy keep the baby?”

“Oh, George, he would not dare deny Kassidy’s right to Abigail’s baby.”

“He’ll try.”

“I’ll fight my pompous nephew in this. Kassidy must be allowed to keep the baby with her. George, just imagine what Kassidy’s life will be like when she returns to the country with her brother. It’s beyond thinking about. Have you noticed that Henry seems to have a strange obsession where Kassidy is concerned? I can’t explain it, I only know it makes me uncomfortable and worries me.”

“I have noticed, but I don’t know what we can do about it, Mary.”

“We must persuade Henry to let her stay with us. I know him—he’s sadistic. He’ll find some way to use the baby to hurt Kassidy.”

“Don’t forget, Henry is Kassidy’s legal guardian,” he reminded his wife.

 

18

 

On the days when Kassidy felt well enough, she kept Arrian in her bedroom, with the wet nurse nearby to help in case she was needed. Often when Lady Mary came to visit, she would hear Kassidy’s laughter ring out, and smiled with satisfaction, knowing her niece was healing.

Today Kassidy had felt well enough to be carried downstairs and was lounging in the solarium, where she could look into the garden. Arrian’s cradle was nearby so she could watch over her.

She was so distracted by the baby that she didn’t see the maid who entered the solarium.

“Excuse me, Miss Maragon, but Lady Mary isn’t home, and the duke of Ravenworth has asked if he might call on you. Shall I show him in, or ask him to return when her ladyship is home?”

Kassidy looked fearfully at the cradle, wondering if the duke had come for the baby. The thought of seeing him brought raging fear to her heart. She was about to tell the maid to send him away when she thought better of it. She would have to meet him one day, and what better place to face him than in the safety of her aunt’s home.

“You may show him in,” she said at last, pulling the coverlet across her lap and calling on all her courage for the encounter.

Raile paused in the doorway. The flickering rays of the sun caught the red in the young girl’s hair and turned it the color of burnished gold. She looked small and insignificant in the oversized chair. Her face was pale and colorless, her green eyes filled with uncertainty. He approached her, his gaze moving to the cradle where his brother’s baby slept.

“The child is well I trust?”

He was such a commanding presence that Kassidy’s voice seemed trapped in her throat. All she could manage was a small nod. She wished her hands weren’t trembling—she clasped them tightly in her lap, hoping he wouldn’t notice. If only she weren’t so weakened by her illness, perhaps she would have been better able to face him. It had been a mistake to see him alone.

“Miss Maragon,” Raile said, “I’m pleased to learn that your health is much improved.”

She wondered how he dared act as if he were concerned about her health. Her green eyes sparked with anger and her fear was forgotten.

“Do you think me so addle-brained that I do not know your true nature? Don’t pretend you care about my feelings.”

Raile moved to a chair, understanding her anger. “Do you mind if I am seated?”

“Do as you like,” she said ungraciously, wishing she could send him away.

After Raile sat down he studied her for a long moment. “I admit you have reason to harbor animosity toward me, Miss Maragon, but let me assure you I have come here today to make amends.”

“How can you make up for the weeks I spent in Newgate, or the nightmares that still plague my sleep? I want nothing from you except to be left alone.”

He looked annoyed. “I see what I’m up against.”

“I want you to leave now. I was mistaken in agreeing to see you.”

He could tell that she was frightened of him—somehow he had expected the fearless young girl who had faced him at Ravenworth. He could only guess at what hell she must have lived through in prison.

“I ask only that you hear me out, Miss Maragon. Then if you like, I will leave. I have several matters I wish to discuss with you.”

“Shall I call out for the butler? I have already asked you to leave.”

Raile’s chest expanded with the deep breath he inhaled. “After you hear what I have to say.”

Kassidy stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “My aunt explained to me that it was your brother who was responsible for my sister’s death. To me you are one and the same.” Suddenly she shook her head in bewilderment. “I cannot think why I was abducted and taken to that horrid place.”

“I don’t expect you to believe this, Miss Maragon, but I had nothing to do with your abduction. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for what happened to you.”

Unless he was a good actor, she thought she detected pity in his eyes. Pity was the one thing she didn’t want from him.

And yet, somewhere in the dark recess of her mind Kassidy had a vague memory of the duke gently lifting her in his arms and carrying her out of the prison. He had taken her to his house where his housekeeper had cared for her. In the shadowed world of her feverish memory, she often confused truth with fiction.

“How do you explain away the fact that my abductors referred to your family by name?”

His eyes darkened with an expression she could not read. “I can explain that if you will only listen.”

She pressed her hands over her eyes. “I... get events distorted sometimes. My dreams are so real, I sometimes mistake them for reality.”

“You and I both made mistakes the day you left the baby with me, Miss Maragon—mine was in thinking you were the mother of the child—yours was in believing I was the father.”

She leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes. “I know that now,” she admitted dully.

“Miss Maragon, whether you believe me or not, I want only to help you. I have your welfare uppermost in my mind.”

He was handsome, she thought, and his dark eyes were hypnotic and mesmerizing. Most probably he was accustomed to having women give in to his slightest wish. What did he want from her? she wondered. “A villain may be handsome of face,” she said at last, “but he is, nonetheless, a villain.”

Raile’s dark eyes danced with sudden humor. “So, you think me handsome?”

“Being handsome is no recommendation for a sterling character,” Kassidy said flippantly.

“What would you say if I challenged you to reform me, Miss Maragon?”

“I would say, your grace, that challenge would be better left to those who would care whether or not you are reformed—I have no interest in you at all.”

He found her quick wit refreshing. “Then I am to take it, it would be a futile effort if I asked you to become my wife?”

Kassidy stared at him in total bewilderment. “What did you say?” she asked, thinking she had surely misunderstood.

Raile stood. She had forgotten how tall he was, and how dark. She had to throw her head back to meet his eyes.

“I should not have blurted it out like that, but you see, I have matters that require my attention at my country estate and I have little time to spend on the gentility of courtship.” He knew he was being imprudent, but it was too late to stop now. “What I ask, Miss Maragon, is if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Do you think me mad?” Kassidy gasped in disbelief. “How dare you insult me thus?”

The amusement was wiped off his face by a look of confusion. “I had meant it as a compliment, not an insult.”

“Perhaps you suppose that by marrying me, you will keep me from informing the world about your brother’s crimes?”

He sat in a chair near her. “I would be the first one to admit to the world that Hugh is a scoundrel.”

She glared at him. “I would call him more than a scoundrel.” She turned her face to the wall, striving to suppress the sob that was building deep inside. “You said you would leave if I wanted you to, and I do. Go away. I never want to see you again.”

Raile felt such overwhelming pity for her. She was a pale, puny little creature, but she stirred to life within him a need to protect and care for her. He deeply felt blame for what had happened to her—after all it was his family who had brought her to this tragic state.

He reached out to her, only to let his hand drop to his side.

“I ask for only a moment more of your time to explain several matters to you.”

She turned back to him, her eyes like ice. “You have nothing to say that I want to hear, and your proposal is unthinkable. How could you imagine I would marry the brother of the black-hearted brute who tricked my sister into marriage and then deserted her when she needed him most?”

Raile held her gaze by sheer force of will. He was quiet for a moment as he pondered her words. Was it possible that Hugh had married Abigail Maragon and kept it a secret from him and Lavinia? Lady Mary had thought so, and apparently Miss Maragon did also. “What exactly did your sister tell you?”

“When she was dying, Abigail asked me to take the baby to the duke of Ravenworth, who was her husband. Since you are the duke, you can see why I mistook you for her husband that day.”

Raile felt anger build within him. So, Hugh had been up to his old tricks again, trying to woo a woman with the pretence of being titled. “If you believe nothing else, believe this—my family’s honor is very important to me. I wish only to redeem the DeWinter integrity in your eyes.”

There was something about him that made Kassidy believe in his sincerity. “Is it true that you fought at Waterloo?”

“Yes, I did, Miss Maragon. I have only recently returned after five years abroad.”

“You cannot make up to me for the nights I lay on a straw mattress that was infested with lice. You cannot make up to me for the filthy gruel they served as food. You cannot make up to me for the loneliness and devastation I felt . . . and the unspeakable things that happened to me. No, your grace, you cannot compensate me for that by offering to marry me. I don’t want to be associated with your family in any way.”

There was a sick feeling in the pit of Raile’s stomach as he gained more evidence of the poor girl’s suffering. “I cannot make your pain go away any more than I can erase your memories,” he said kindly. “But, Miss Maragon, you and I have a strong bond, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“You are mistaken—I have no bond with you, your grace.”

“But you have. The baby that came from your sister and my brother is that bond. Have you considered the child’s future?”

Kassidy moved forward as if to stand, but fell back weakly. “Surely you aren’t threatening me?”

“Of course not,” he said in irritation. “I am merely suggesting that if we were married, we could give her a proper family.”

“I don’t want to marry you. Why should I? I am still not convinced you had nothing to do with my incarceration.”

Raile was weary of defending himself to her. “I will be completely truthful with you, Miss Maragon. You were placed there by two men who were hired by my stepmother. She thought you were Abigail Maragon, and she thought she was protecting her son, Hugh, from an undesirable marriage.”

“How could she do such a thing? You cannot imagine the unspeakable...”

“I’m sure we could never know the workings of Lavinia’s mind,” Raile said grimly. “But let me assure you that you need have no fear that she will ever harm you or the baby. She no longer has any interest in either of you.”

“I would never marry you to ease your guilty conscience.”

“I had hoped you might see it differently.”

“I have higher expectations for my life, your grace. I have no desire to become involved in a loveless marriage.” She blinked her eyes. “Furthermore, I, too, am proud. The Maragons might not be as wealthy and we may not be as powerful as the DeWinters, but we have an honored name.”

“I know that. Do you think I would offer you my name if I thought otherwise? Not even obligation would induce me to marry anyone unworthy of becoming the duchess of Ravenworth.”

Kassidy’s laughter was bitter. “I decline the honor.”

“Consider well how your sister’s child will benefit from such an arrangement. If you’re of a mind to, with enough money, you can lift her so high, no one will dare look down on her.”

Kassidy faced him proudly. “She doesn’t need your money. I will take care of her.”

“Then your final answer is no?”

Suddenly Kassidy shivered, remembering the filthy guard and what he had done to her while she had been unconscious. She would never feel clean again, and never be worthy of marrying any man, least of all this arrogant one before her.

“I would like you to leave now, your grace. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

Raile stood up, looking deeply into her eyes. “Pity. I believe you and I would have dealt very well together, Miss Maragon.”

She was too confused to answer.

“I take leave of you. But I shall not close the door on my proposal.”

Kassidy could sense turmoil within him, but she also detected deep loneliness. She must be mistaken. Surely he was only trying to confuse her.

“Should you need me, I will be in my London house for the next two weeks, Miss Maragon, and then I return to Ravenworth.”

Kassidy watched him walk away, wondering why she felt such a deep sense of loss.

BOOK: Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1)
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