Seduction on a Snowy Night Page 17

  His mother slapped his hand. Hard.

  “Ow!” he said, rubbing his hand with a frown. “You’d think the stuff was actual gold from the way you ladies protect it.”

  “If it were gold, you wouldn’t have to fetch Sheridan,” Gwyn said mildly. “He’d already be in here calculating its worth and figuring out which bills to pay off with it. ’Tis a pity it’s not gold.”

  Heywood’s gaze shot to Cass. “If it were, Sheridan would have to fight me for it,” he said.

  A blush rose in Cass’s cheeks that made him ache everywhere. Then she shifted her gaze from him, leaving him feeling bereft. God, but he hated this. It wasn’t fair. He knew what he wanted. He just had no right to claim it.

  Frustrated now, he left to find Sheridan. Any conversation with Cass about Malet would have to wait. Because if Heywood got her alone, he couldn’t be responsible for his actions. Then he’d have no choice but to marry her. Unlike Malet, he would never seduce and abandon a woman, no matter how much he desired her.

  Shaking off the memory of poor Valeria’s lifeless body, he went in search of his brother. It took him only a short while to unearth Sheridan from the stacks of papers upon the desk in the study, which had once been their uncle’s and then their father’s. How strange to be in a place that by rights was home, yet didn’t feel remotely like home to Heywood.

  “Mother wants you,” he told Sheridan.

  Looking haggard, Sheridan pushed his chair back from the desk. “For what?”

  “The tree has been erected in the ballroom. Though if you need me to tell her I couldn’t find you . . .”

  “No, I’ll go.” Sheridan rose. “I need a break from poring over numbers that I can’t make work to my satisfaction.”

  As they strode down the long hall with its picture windows, Sheridan paused to look out at the ice-crusted lawn and the melting icicles under the eaves. “You realize that Malet will be here as soon as the roads are passable. If his aim is revenging himself on you and Douglas, he will at least try to regain Kitty. Or have it out with you.”

  “True. But it should take him a bit longer to come here. He’ll have headed north.” He’d told Sheridan everything after his brother had badgered him for the truth. Almost everything, that is. Sheridan didn’t know about his dilemma with Kitty and Cass.

  “Have you a plan for dealing with him if he does show up here?” Sheridan asked.

  “I do. When he comes to the door, my plan is to shoot him through the heart.”

  Sheridan eyed him askance. “And then you will hang.”

  “Ah, yes,” he said dryly. “I still haven’t worked out that tiny flaw.”

  “In other words, you have no plan.”

  Heywood shook his head no. “My original plan was to court Kitty myself, then marry her to keep her out of Malet’s reach. But now that . . .”

  “Now that you’ve discovered Kitty is . . . shall we say . . . a bit . . .”

  “Dull witted?”

  “I was going to say ‘naïve,’ ” Sheridan said sternly.

  “That, too,” Heywood said. “And truly, I could accept a certain amount of naïveté in a wife.” Though he liked Cass all the more because she wasn’t one of those wide-eyed innocents who didn’t know men even had urges. That was refreshing to a rough-and-tumble soldier who’d spent as much of his life in armed camps as in the rarefied atmosphere of society. “But I’m not sure I want to marry a woman lacking in the good sense to run a household.”

  “I didn’t realize you were looking for a wife,” Sheridan said.

  “Aren’t you? We both have estates in need of wives with sizable fortunes. Indeed, you ought to marry Kitty yourself. I’m told she has quite a large dowry.”

  Sheridan searched Heywood’s face. “Perhaps I don’t want to marry an heiress. Perhaps I find Kitty’s cousin, Cass, more attractive.”

  A surge of jealous anger shattered Heywood’s calm. “Do you?”

  Sheridan burst into laughter. “I wish you could see your face right now. You look downright murderous.”

  Heywood turned to walk ahead of him down the hall. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “You stare at Cass like a wolf eyeing a lamb. She stares at you like a—”

  “Lamb fearing a wolf?” he bit out, disliking Sheridan’s characterization entirely.

  “More like a lamb eyeing a shepherd. She trusts you. I can’t imagine why, considering how she ended up here, but she does. So if your intentions aren’t honorable—”

  “What are you, her guardian? Cass is none of your concern.”

  He said it so forcefully that Sheridan stiffened. “Forgive me. I meant no insult.”

  Damn. After years apart, he and his brother had begun to forge a new relationship this past couple of weeks. Heywood didn’t want to damage that.

  “I know.” Heywood dragged his fingers through his hair. “You mean well. But I’d prefer you stayed out of it.”

  “All right. Just don’t damage our family’s reputation. It’s hard enough for Mother to weather the gossip about her three dead husbands. If you do anything untoward, it will reflect badly on all of us.”

  Though Heywood bristled at the warning, he knew his brother was right. “I won’t. I swear.”

  “One more thing. I know you’re set on marrying an heiress and Cass isn’t who you think you need. But happiness should be one of your criteria as well. If you wouldn’t—couldn’t—be happy with any other woman, you must take that into consideration. Because, to paraphrase a certain scripture in the Bible, what does it profit you if you save your estate but lose your soul?”

  Heywood gritted his teeth. “I never took you for a religious man.”

  “I never took you for a fool. But you’re making me re-examine that supposition.”

  Halting in his tracks, Heywood turned on his brother. “So you think I should shirk my responsibilities. That for the sake of my . . . urges, I should abandon the tenants and property that Grandmother entrusted to me.”

  “No, not if your ‘urges’ are all there is to it. But if you feel something more . . .”

  “Like what? Love?” He snorted. “I’m not foolish enough to be a slave to that. And you shouldn’t be either, given that Mother and Father were more friends than lovers.”

  “That was their marriage. You must forge your own.”

  Heywood didn’t want to forge his own. Keeping his heart protected was safer. He remembered only too well how it had felt to be sent off to war as a lad. Yes, it was the way of the aristocracy, but he refused to take that path with his own children.

  His own children? Now he was thinking ahead to having children? What kind of madness was that?

  They’d reached the drawing room, but no one was there with the half-constructed gingerbread castle. “Damn. The ladies have gone,” he told Sheridan.

  “To the ballroom, probably.”

  “Right.”

  They both headed there.

  But Heywood’s mind teemed with scattered thoughts. What was it about Cass’s effect on him that made him take leave of his senses? And why couldn’t he be lusting after Kitty instead of her fetching cousin?

  Because, as usual, he wanted an illusion. Nothing was ever as it seemed. As a boy, he’d imagined that the army would be an exciting profession. But what he’d taken for excitement was really a morass of boredom and battle and long periods of yearning for family. He’d imagined Kitty as the perfect wife for him, capable of funding the revival of his estate. Instead, he’d discovered she was very different from the woman he’d imagined her to be.

  He and Sheridan entered the ballroom to find three of the ladies already hanging presents on the tree set up in the corner. Kitty must have gone to fetch something, for she alone was absent.

  Cass brightened as they walked in. “Oh, good, you’re both here. I want to put this one on the very top.” Gazing right at him, she held up an ornament made of tinsel wrapped around twigs that gave it the shape of a star. “I figure even tinsel stars bel
ong somewhere they can shine above us.”

  “I agree.” And you belong in my arms. A pity he had no right to say it.

  “Would you mind putting it on top of the tree for me?” she asked, with a glow about her that made his heart clench.

  “Better yet, I’ll help you place it up there yourself.” He dragged a chair over to the tree, then took her by the waist and lifted her up onto it.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, her eyes warming as she gazed down at him from the chair.

  He couldn’t seem to release her waist—her pleasingly shaped waist that made him think of taking her into a bedchamber somewhere and . . .

  “Heywood,” his mother chided in a low voice.

  Right. Of course. Cass wasn’t for him.

  He released her and stepped back, hoping neither Cass nor his mother had seen the longing in his face. Still, what would he do when Cass was gone? After the past week, he couldn’t imagine never seeing her again.

  She stretched up to place her star at the top of the tree, and his blood heated. He could see her trim ankles and even a bit of shapely, stockinged calf. Good God, he had to get control over these obsessive—highly unwise—urges.

  “So Cass,” his mother said, “do you have some suitor at home whom you fancy? Who might be looking forward to your return?”

  He tensed, waiting to see what she would say. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might have suitors.

  Cass avoided his gaze. “Not at present, no. But I’ll be having a season in London alongside Kitty, so I’m hopeful I’ll attract a suitor then.”

  “I daresay you’ll attract more than one,” Sheridan said, taunting Heywood with a smile.

  Heywood ignored him. “I daresay you will.”

  “You’re both too kind.” Cass met his gaze with a heart-wrenching look of her own. “Would you mind helping me down, sir?”

  “Of course not.” He clasped her waist and lifted her off the chair and onto the floor. But once again, he couldn’t seem to let go of her. Her waist seemed to fit perfectly in his hands, and her eyes were a fetching shade of smoky gray that—

  “My lord,” she murmured, “you can release me now.”

  “And if I don’t wish to?” he asked gruffly, though in too low a tone to arouse the suspicions of the others, who were busy across the room, making more gifts to hang on the tree. “What will you do then?”

  She regarded him with a clear-eyed gaze. “I’d wonder why you dally with a woman like me,” she said, her voice as low as his, “when you need a woman like Kitty.”

  “Don’t tell me what I need,” he whispered. “I know that better than you.”

  And in that moment, he realized the truth. He had found the woman who suited him, his perfect match. So to hell with what he thought he needed for Hawkcrest. If Cass proved willing to follow the drum and live on his paltry income, he would take her as his wife, even if it meant giving up his own dream for the future.

  Because the thought of living without her was simply more than he could bear.

  Chapter 7

  Something was different about Heywood today. Cass couldn’t put her finger on it, but he seemed more . . . earnest. More intent on flirtation.

  It intoxicated her, even though she knew that desiring him was foolish.

  “How else can I help you ladies?” Heywood asked, his gaze fixed on her.

  “I suppose someone should go fetch Kitty,” Cass said, “or at least find out how far she’s coming along on the gingerbread house.”

  Heywood narrowed his gaze on her. “You mean the one in the drawing room?”

  Sheridan glanced from Cass to his mother. “We were just there. We saw no sign of Kitty.”

  How odd. Anxiety gripped Cass. Surely Malet could not have sneaked in and carried Kitty off? It seemed unlikely.

  “She’s probably just resting in her room,” the duchess said.

  Heywood looked at Cass, apparently understanding at once her concern. “Perhaps we should make sure of that.”

  Gwyn, being a very discerning soul, said, “I agree.”

  At that point they split up to search for Kitty. Cass went up to Kitty’s bedchamber, only to find she wasn’t there. The others scattered about the mansion, looking for her. When Cass was nearly at her wit’s end and was staring out at the snow, wondering where else to look, Heywood came to her with an envelope in his hand.

  “I found this behind the gingerbread house in the drawing room,” he said.

  The envelope bore Cass’s name. With her stomach churning, she opened the letter. There were crossed-out words and plenty of mistakes, but she was used to that from Kitty:

  Dearest Cass,

  I hope you can forgive me, Cuzin, but I have ran away with the man I love. I’ve been in love with Mr. Adams For Ever. At least two years. He’s very swete to me. So we’re gone to Grenta Green to be wed. Please tell Mama I’m happy and will write to her as soon as possbile. And please don’t follow us. I am delited to be with my own dear Mr. Adams at last.

  With much affecshun,

  Kitty

  P.S. Tell his Grace that we borrowd his slay on account of all the snow. We’ll bring it rite back after we marry.

  Heywood had apparently been reading over her shoulder, for as soon as he was finished he murmured, “I can see why you needed to write letters for her.”

  “And we can be sure that her ‘love’ didn’t write them for her since Mr. Adams is a well-educated solicitor.” Despair gripped Cass. “Oh, Aunt Virginia will be furious with me!”

  “Why? It’s not your fault, and I shall make that clear to her. If anything, it’s mine for getting her away from home where this Mr. Adams could prey on her more easily.”

  Just then the others came in. “We can’t find her anywhere,” the duchess said.

  Wordlessly, Cass handed over the letter. They read it and were kind enough not to comment on Kitty’s poor writing ability.

  “Who is this fellow, anyway?” Sheridan looked at Cass. “Is he at least a decent chap?”

  Cass explained who Mr. Adams was to her family. “Kitty actually mentioned him in passing the night of the ball. I should have realized she found him appealing. He always treated her kindly, and she always asked after his children. He’s a widower.” When Gwyn lifted her eyebrows, Cass added, “A young, handsome widower.”

  “Thank heaven,” Gwyn said. “Otherwise, I’d drive the sleigh up to Scotland myself to save her.”

  “You couldn’t,” Heywood said. “They stole the sleigh, remember? And how did they manage that, anyway? You’d think a servant would have noticed.”

  The duchess wore a pained expression. “I sent a couple of the men out with it to cut down the fir tree and haul it in. Kitty and her beau must have seen it in the drive and taken it while the footmen were bringing in the tree.”

  “Then let’s hope they don’t run afoul of Malet on their way to Scotland,” Sheridan said. “And how did this Adams chap know to look for her here?”

  Heywood rubbed his jaw. “I imagine that after Malet’s coachman told his master that the ladies had gone off with me, Malet took Mrs. Nickman home. Once there, he would have heard that I’d left my card, and he would have known I was in England, bent on protecting Kitty from him. This Mr. Adams could have insinuated himself into the search. Perhaps he offered to come down here while Malet took the road up to Gretna Green? Mind you, I’m just speculating.”

  “It doesn’t really matter how he found out, just that he did,” the duchess said. “Something must be done about the elopement.”

  “If we leave now, we might catch up with them,” Sheridan said.

  “I doubt it,” Heywood said. “Besides, they might decide to travel by ship to Scotland. The coast isn’t that far from here. I don’t know if we could get there before they embarked. Or, once we did, find them in Grimsby or Boston or whatever port town they ended up in.”

  “No one is going after them,” Cass said. “If they’re in love, then that’s enough.”

/>   The duchess looked shocked. “But my dear, if he’s a fortune hunter—”

  “He’s not. I know Mr. Adams very well. His father was solicitor to my aunt and uncle before the young Mr. Adams took over. For the first two years he worked for the Nickmans, he stammered every time Kitty entered the room. Now that I think about it, he was clearly smitten even then. He’s about ten years her senior, just enough to be a settled fellow who will give her a respectable life, but not so old that she won’t find him appealing.”

  Gwyn stared at her. “You’re sure he’s not after her money.”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. He has money of his own. His father’s business is well established, and he has picked up the reins admirably.”

  Heywood glanced around at the group. “Then I suppose we must bow to Cass’s greater knowledge of what Kitty might want.” The others nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Thank you,” Cass said. “At least she’ll be safe from Mr. Malet. Which, I suppose, means that it’s time for me to go home.”

  “Nonsense,” the duchess said. “It’s very near dark and far too dangerous for you to travel, even if Heywood and Sheridan go with you. You might as well stay here tonight and tomorrow. You won’t want to travel on Christmas. Every coaching inn will be closed.”

  “Yes, you should remain here,” Heywood said in a low rumble that tugged at her heart.

  “Very well.” But there was a catch in her throat. She wasn’t at all sure she was doing the right thing. She might just be setting herself up for more misery.

  Still, it made her think. Perhaps she should tell Heywood about her fortune. Kitty had given up everything to be with the man she loved. There was no guarantee that Aunt Virginia would approve of her choice after the fact, and if she didn’t the couple might not be given anything—no dowry, no inheritance. Yet Kitty had risked it.

  Meanwhile, Cass was hedging her bets, asking Heywood to give up all his hopes in order to be with her. Was that fair? She wasn’t giving up anything. Perhaps she should follow Kitty’s lead and go after the man she loved.