Song Of The Nightingale (DeWinter's Song 1) (16 page)

19

Lady Mary came rushing into Kassidy’s bedroom, her eyes filled with concern.

“Dearest, I heard that the duke of Ravenworth was here and you received him. I blame myself for not being with you. You should have sent him away.”

“I was discourteous to him, Aunt Mary.”

Lady Mary fluffed up Kassidy’s pillow. “If you were rude to him or not, I’m sure it’s not the end of the world. Don’t worry about the incident.”

“No,” Kassidy whispered. “It’s not that.”

“You are obviously upset. Just don’t think about the duke at all.”

“Aunt Mary, you don’t know what I’ve done.”

Her aunt looked into Kassidy’s eyes and saw fear there. “He said he wanted to ask you to marry him. Is that what he did that has upset you so?”

“You knew that man was contemplating such an absurd proposal, and you didn’t warn me?”

“I tried to tell you on several occasions, Kassidy, but you forbade me to mention his name.”

“I had no notion that was why he wanted to see me.”

“He asked me for permission to speak to you of marriage. Although I didn’t discourage him, I was sure you would decline his offer.”

“I had to, Aunt Mary. But now I’m wondering if I made a grievous mistake.”

“There, there, dearest. Don’t fret. I don’t want you to make yourself ill again.”

A deep shudder shook Kassidy’s body, and she handed a letter to Lady Mary. “I suppose this is what really has me upset. It’s from Henry. He will be here tomorrow to take me home.” She raised her hands in a hopeless gesture. “Perhaps I should marry the duke.”

Lady Mary smiled encouragingly, trying to make light of the situation. “I won’t have you marrying a man just to save you from Henry. When your brother arrives, I intend to convince him that you and Arrian will be better off with me.”

Kassidy drew in a trembling breath. “Henry won’t allow it.”

“Just leave him to me. I believe with your Uncle George’s help, we can get him to agree.”

Kassidy was afraid to hope, but she couldn’t help smiling at her aunt. “I would be so happy if only I could stay with you and Uncle George.”

Lady Mary sat on the bed and took Kassidy’s hand. “Let’s not talk about Henry. Tell me more about the handsome duke, and how you tossed him out when every woman in the length and breadth of England would be glad to stand in your shoes.”

“I found him to be not at all what I expected. He told me about his brother and stepmother. If he’s all he appeared to be, he is a man of conviction, honor, and even compassion.”

“And yet, feeling this way, you refused his suit.”

“I also found him frightening.”

Lady Mary looked deeply into Kassidy’s eyes. “And intriguing also, I’ll venture?”

“Yes, and that’s the worst of it. I seem somehow drawn to him, and I don’t know why. I felt this attraction the day I first saw him—I felt his presence even while I was in Newgate and if I were to close my eyes, I would feel his presence even now.”

“Oh, dearest,” Lady Mary said, brushing her cheek against Kassidy’s, “you are only growing into a woman— with a woman’s heart and a woman’s yearnings. That is nothing to be distressed about. I can tell you that older and wiser women than you have lost their hearts to that handsome Raile DeWinter.”

“So his name is Raile—I never knew.” Kassidy traced the lacy pattern on her sleeve. “I am very confused about my feelings for him. But I can assure you I have not gone overnight from hate to love—but he is fascinating. Were you ever confused about your feelings for Uncle George?”

“Yes—in a way. But George is different from Raile DeWinter. George is like a quiet stream flowing in a steady direction with purpose and serenity. Raile DeWinter is like a storm-tossed sea, caught up in turmoil and excitement. He is troubled and seeking and needs someone to bring serenity to his life.”

“Yes, I feel that, too. It’s almost as if he’s alone, with no one to care for him.”

“Perhaps, Kassidy, you could be the one to bring him the peace he seeks.”

“No, Aunt Mary,” she said with regret, “it will not be I.”

“Let’s forget about Raile DeWinter for the moment and put our heads together so we can come up with a plan to thwart your brother.”

Henry’s voice was thick with fury as he faced his aunt. “I came for my sister, and I’ll not leave without her. I insist you have her and the . . . child made ready to leave immediately.”

“Be reasonable, Henry,” Lady Mary pleaded, “Kassidy is still much too ill to travel. Allow her to remain here until she is stronger.”

“To take her away now would be to court folly, Henry,” George added his advice to his wife’s. “Kassidy has been through a great deal.”

“Yes, and had she stayed at home where she belonged, none of this would have happened to her.”

Lady Mary glared at her nephew. “If I could lawfully keep Kassidy, I would do so.”

Henry merely blinked. He knew his aunt did not hold him in high esteem, and he cared little for her opinion. “She will come home with me.”

“What kind of life can she expect with you?” Lady Mary asked angrily. “Will she become your slave to clean and care for your children? And what about Abigail’s daughter—will you allow her to remain with Kassidy? I demand to know the answers.”

Henry rose to his feet. “I answer to no one where my sister is concerned. If you don’t have her brought down at once, I’ll go up and get her.”

Kassidy stood in the doorway, using the doorknob for support. “There is no need for trouble, Aunt Mary. I’m prepared to leave with my brother.”

Henry moved slowly to Kassidy, his eyes raking her face and then her body. “Have you no greeting for me, sister dear?”

“Hello, Henry,” she said dully.

He turned to his aunt and uncle while he reached out and painfully gripped Kassidy’s shoulder. “You see how it is,” he said sarcastically, “my sister cannot wait to be back within the bosom of her family.”

Lady Mary rushed forward and pulled Kassidy away from Henry. “We have failed, dearest. But have heart, I shall come for a visit as soon as possible.” She turned her attention to Henry. “I shall expect you to take the greatest care of her health, and the baby.”

Henry looked down his nose at his aunt. She was far too outspoken for a woman, and nothing like his sweet, gentle mother. “I know my responsibility and will discharge it as I see fit.”

There was sorrow in Lady Mary’s eyes as she hugged Kassidy. “Take heart. You are not alone.”

Kassidy fought back her tears. “Yes, I know. I still have Abigail’s daughter.”

Kassidy sat beside Henry as the carriage left London and headed into open country. Thus far, Henry had been sullen, hardly speaking, and Kassidy found that worse than if he had raged at her—but the rage would come later—she knew it would.

She leaned back weakly against the headrest, and pulled the lap blanket around her.

The wet nurse that Henry had engaged was seated across from them, and Henry had refused to look at the baby.

At last Kassidy reached for Arrian and held her out for Henry’s inspection. “Henry, I don’t believe you have met your niece. I named her Arrian after our mother. Don’t you think she would have been pleased?”

He glanced at the baby with blank eyes. “Give the child back to the nurse,” he said gruffly. “It’s not wise to get too attached to her.”

Kassidy stared at him in trepidation. What could he mean by that? She dared not pursue the matter in front of the wet nurse; she would demand an explanation when they stopped for the night.

After an hour, the coach halted before a modest posting inn. Kassidy made certain that Arrian and the nurse were settled in comfortably for the night before she went to Henry’s room. Her heart was beating with dread as she knocked on his door. Henry was not a forgiving man, and she knew he still harbored anger against her. She was sure he would vent that anger on her tonight.

Henry wrenched open the door and indicated she was to sit in the straight-backed chair. When she was seated with her hands folded demurely in her lap, he began pacing restlessly as if deep in thought.

At last he stopped in front of her, rocking back on his heels. “Well, Kassidy, you managed to get yourself in a fine mess. Had you and Abigail listened to me, she would still be alive today, and you would not have disgraced us all with your antics.”

She was too weary for an argument. She ached all over, and was seized by moments of dizziness. “I’m sure what you say is true, Henry,” she concurred, hoping that would appease him.

He looked at her suspiciously. It was unusual for Kassidy to agree with him. “You must also admit that you have been too long without benefit of a chaperon. No gentleman will want to marry you.”

Her spirit returned in the form of rage, and she had no intention of telling him about the proposal from the duke. “I do so sorely beg your pardon, Henry, if you feel the proprieties have not been observed. Had I known I was going to spend so much time in Newgate, I might have arranged to have a chaperon with me while there.”

“Just the kind of insolence I would expect from you, Kassidy. I don’t know why I bother with you at all, you ungrateful baggage.”

“I believe you are right about no man of good family wanting to marry me if they knew about my unfortunate experiences at Newgate.”

He stared at her long and hard, his hands balled into fists, the veins on his forehead bulging. “Just what did happen to you in that place?”

She lowered her head, feeling for the first time the full impact of her shame. “I will not talk about it.”

“You never want to talk to me. I should leave you to your own devices, and you would soon face the same tragic end as Abigail.”

“I won’t discuss Abigail with you, Henry.”

“No, but you’ll bring her brat to my home and expect me to raise it.”

“I will take care of Arrian. She will be no trouble to you.”

Henry poked his hands in his pockets and moved to the window, deep in thought. After a time, he turned back to Kassidy. “I believe Hugh DeWinter never married Abigail, no matter what Aunt Mary says.”

Kassidy ached at his words. She had come to the same conclusion, herself, but she would not admit it to him. “Abigail thought they were married.”

“If she had come to me and allowed me to guide her in this matter, she would not have—“

“How dare you say this, Henry? You are such a hypocrite. Don’t you know you are to blame for much that happened to Abigail? She could not have come to you and asked your advice, because you would not have listened to her. You never allowed her to receive suitors, or to be with people her age. She lost her heart to the first man who showed her kindness.”

“You could have stopped her from going away with him,” Henry accused.

“Perhaps I could have, and in that I blame myself. At least Abigail had a few months of happiness, Henry, and that’s more than she ever had while living in your house.”

Henry glared at her. “You strumpet! How dare you talk to me like this?”

“I don’t intend to talk to you about anything, Henry.” She stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

“Go to bed,” he said sourly. “But think on this before you sleep. I have already made arrangements to place Arrian in a foundling home in Brighton.”

Kassidy’s head snapped up and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, no, you aren’t, Henry. I will never allow you to take the baby from me. How could you even consider doing such a monstrous act against one of your own flesh and blood?”

“Patricia and I discussed this before I left for London, and we both agree that we don’t want our girls exposed to an illegitimate child, and certainly not in their own home.”

“We don’t know for sure that they weren’t married. And I fail to see how an innocent baby could corrupt anyone.”

“It took much convincing to get Patricia to allow you to return. She is certain you are an unsettling influence on our daughters.”

“I’m not a fool, Henry. Patricia will be glad to have me take over the housekeeping again. How did you manage while I was away?” Kassidy asked with anger.

“I would expect you to show disrespect for the woman who gave you a home since Mother and Father died.”

“If you had allowed me to remain with Aunt Mary, she would have been happy to give me and Arrian a home.”

“It’s settled, Kassidy. You will come with me, and the baby goes to Brighton.”

Kassidy felt her legs tremble with weakness, and the floor started spinning around her. She must not become ill—not now. She had to be strong for the sake of the baby.

“I will not allow you to take Arrian away from me. I’ll fight you on this, Henry.”

He eyed her haughtily. “You have no say in the matter.”

Kassidy saw the satisfied curl to his lips. Henry was enjoying torturing her. “Do you hate me so much, Henry, that you will take from me the one I love most in the world?”

“I find that I derive some satisfaction from disciplining you, Kassidy,” he admitted. “You are headstrong and willful. I always said I would break you, and I shall.”