Elizabeth Mansfield (16 page)

“Nonsense,” Sandy said in what was for him a tone of strong disapproval. “A tradition that insists that every chair must remain where one’s ancesters placed it is … is …”

“Sheer sentimentality,” Kittridge finished for him. “Didn’t I say before, Cassie, that I don’t give a hang for such nonsensical traditions? Confound it, ma’am, this is
your
house, not Eunice’s.”

“But if your sister—” Cassie began.

“Good lord, Cassie,” Sandy cut in, “don’t make excuses for Eunice! It’s time Robbie learned the truth about his sister.” He paused for a moment, looking down at where the happy Della was making the winning throw in their game, and then, while the child chortled gleefully, he got to his feet and faced his friend. “I yield to no one in my admiration for your sister, Robbie, old fellow, but she does sometimes have a high-handed way about her.”

“Now, Sandy—” Cassie said in disapproval, hoping to stop him.

But Kittridge cut her off. “Am I right in assuming, Cassie, that you didn’t give Eunice permission to engage that stiffrumped butler either? Or all the other maids?”

“Well, I …”

Sandy glared at her. “Speak up, Cassie, dash it! Of course you didn’t!”

Kittridge stared at his wife for a long, silent moment. Then, without a word, he strode over to where she sat, pulled the teacup from her hand, set it down on the hearth, plucked Greta from her arms and carried the child to Sandy. “Take the girls up to Miss Roffey, will you please, Sandy?” he asked, his mouth tight.

“But Uncle Robert, we want to play horsey with you,” Della whined.

“Yeth, Uncew Wobit,” Greta chimed in, “
hawthy
!”

“Later, my loves, later,” Kittridge said shortly, crossing back to where Cassie still sat. He took her by one hand and pulled her to her feet. “As for you, ma’am,” he said between clenched teeth, “you will come with me!”

Pulling her ruthlessly behind him, he strode out of the sitting room and down the hall to the drawing room. He burst into the room, banging the doors open with so great a crash that his sister, who’d been sitting near the tea table sipping her tea in solitary splendor, shuddered with fright, causing most of the tea to slosh over into her lap. “
Robbie
! What on earth—?”

He yanked Cassie across the room until the two of them stood in front of his flabbergasted sister. “Tell me, Eunice, do you know who this is?” he snapped.

“What?” She looked up at her brother in utter bafflement.

“Do you know who this is?” he repeated even more angrily.

“Have you lost your
wits
? Of
course
I—”

“Then
what is her name
?”

“Her
name
?” Her eyes were popping in stupefaction. “Cassie, of course. But what—?”

“Her
full
name!”

“Cassandra Rossiter
née
Chivers.”

“Never mind the Chivers. Her
present
name, with title and address, if you please.”

“Robbie, what is this all about? I don’t understand—”

“There’s nothing to understand. I want you to tell me this woman’s
full name
!”

“Oh, very well! But I think, Robbie, that you’ve gone berserk!”

“Her
name
, please!” Kittridge thundered.

Eunice threw up her hands. “Cassandra Rossiter, Viscountess Kittridge, of Highlands, Lincolnshire.”

“Ah, then you
do
know,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His sister gaped at her brother in confused frustration. “Of course I know. What nonsense
is
this?” Leaning forward, she turned to Cassie in appeal. “
Tell
me, Cassie,
please
! What is this all about?”

But Cassie seemed not to hear. She was staring up at her husband with eyes so wide she seemed mesmerized. What Eunice could not know was that Cassie was gazing at a golden knight, the same one who had done battle for her once before and was now doing it again. The look she’d fixed on her husband was one of sheer adoration.

“What this is about, sister mine,” Kittridge was saying, “is your apparent ignorance of the fact this this lady, whom you evidently
do
recognize as the Viscountess Kittridge, is
my wife
and the
mistress of this house.
”

“What is the
matter
with you, Robbie?” Eunice asked in bewildered chagrin. “I am not ignorant of that fact.”

“You must be. Why else would you take it upon yourself to move her furniture about and hire her servants and run her household?”

His meaning began to dawn on Eunice. She fell back against the chair. “But, Robbie, I didn’t mean to—”

“Not meaning to is a very lame excuse.”

“I know this is her household to run,” Eunice said shakily. “Surely, Robbie, you don’t believe I
intended
to … to …”

“To slight my wife?” Kittridge supplied icily. “Your intentions were good, is that what you mean? Have you perhaps heard, Eunice, of the destination of the road paved with good intentions? Frankly, I don’t believe your intentions
were
good, but even if you meant well, the result was both arrogant and harmful.”

Eunice had never been spoken to in such a tone by her brother. “Oh, Robbie!” she cried, quite overset. “I’m so … sorry!”

“You should be. But sorries are not enough. You will make up for the damage you’ve wreaked, and at once. Firstly, Eunice, you will restore everything to the way it was when you arrived. Secondly, you will offer my wife a sincere apology. And, furthermore—”

Cassie placed a light hand on his arm. “That’s enough, Robert,” she said, low-voiced. “Eunice has already apologized. Twice.”

The softness of her voice halted the outpouring of his anger. He looked down at his wife, blinking her face into focus. “Did she?” he asked. “I did not hear—”

“Perhaps you were only listening to yourself,” Cassie suggested gently.

Eunice stared at her sister-in-law as if she’d never seen her before. “I
am
sorry, Cassie,” she said, her eyes filling. “I never meant to …” But, realizing she was making the same lame excuse again, she burst into tears, rose from her chair and ran from the room.

Cassie looked after her with a troubled frown. “Go after her, Robert.”

“No,” his lordship snapped. “Let her weep. She deserves a little suffering.”

“Then so do I, because this whole muddle is my fault, too.”

Kittridge, surprised, took his wife by the shoulders and turned her to him. “How, my dear,” he asked, finding himself suddenly calmed by his wife’s gentle self-possession, “can this possibly be your fault?”

“Because I
permitted
her to have her way. I should have held out against her.”

“Yes, you should have,” he agreed, taking his wife’s chin in his hand and tilting up her face, trying to force her to meet his eye. “You are my wife, Cassie. Why are you so afraid to act the role?”

She lifted her eyes to his at last and gave him a long, level look. “Perhaps because it
is
a role,” she said.

His comprehension of what she’d said dawned slowly. “Of course,” he muttered, feeling stunned. “How
can
you feel like a wife if our bond is largely a pretense? We are two strangers under one roof.”

She lowered her head in painful agreement. “That’s why it was hard for me to act your wife before a sister who is more your … your intimate than I am.”

Sadly, he pulled her to him and rested his cheek on her hair. “My sweet Cassie! What you mean to say, in that quiet way of yours, is that, in truth, all this is more my fault than anyone’s.”

She stayed in his arms for a moment, savoring the tenderness of his affectionate gesture. Then, lifting her hand and brushing it ruefully on his cheek, she withdrew from his embrace. “It’s not your fault that I don’t feel like a wife,” she said, turning and moving slowly to the door. “It’s the fault of our unnatural situation. Perhaps it was all a dreadful mistake. Perhaps we …” She threw him a last, sorrowful look before departing. “Perhaps
I
never should have done it.”

Chapter Nineteen

Dinner that night was a silent affair. Everyone looked gloomy, even the butler, who surmised that his days in this house were numbered. Sandy tried to keep up a flow of cheerful conversation, but since a monologue is difficult to maintain for very long, even he admitted defeat by the end of the first course and lapsed into silence. Finally, over dessert, Eunice spoke up. “I shall be leaving tomorrow,” she announced in a tearful voice.

Kittridge put down his fork. “That,” he said bluntly, “is a coward’s revenge.”

“Be still, Robert,” his wife scolded gently. “You’ve said enough unkind things to your sister today. Lady Yarrow, you surely are not serious about leaving. You promised to stay for at least another week.”

Eunice put up her chin. “Yes, but under the circumstances, I think I am justified in breaking that promise. You needn’t worry, Robert. I will see that everything is put back as it was before I go.”

“I’ve seen to that already,” her brother retorted.

“Then you can have no objections to my departure,” Eunice said sullenly.

“Only that taking your leave now sounds very much like the sulks to me.”

“I wish, Lady Yarrow, you’d reconsider,” Cassie urged. “We should all be very sorry to see you leave so abruptly.”

“You needn’t be polite to me, my dear,” Eunice said proudly. “After my arrogant and insensitive behavior, you cannot pretend to wish to endure my presence among you any longer.”

“But I do wish it,” Cassie insisted. “No pretense.”

Eunice knit her brows, puzzled. “Why would you want me to stay, after what I’ve done, if not for mere politeness?”

“Because I believe we will do better now,” Cassie responded with a small smile. “Don’t you agree? Now that the barriers between us have been somewhat breached, might we not become better acquainted at last?”

Eunice gave her sister-in-law a long, considering look. “Yes, my dear, I begin to think we might. I’m suddenly realizing, Cassie, that I have more to learn about you than I had at first believed.” Wavering, she fiddled with her wine glass. “But surely Robbie has had his fill of my company,” she mumbled with uncharacteristic uncertainty.

“You know better than that, my dear,” her brother assured her. “And even if it were true, I would still hate to lose the company of your daughters.”

“Besides,” Sandy added, “you can’t take the children away now. Greta seems to have a cough.”

From across the table Eunice gaped at him in amazement. “You, of all people, Sandy, cannot pretend you wish me to stay.”

“I?” Sandy asked, reddening. “What do you mean?”

“You haven’t said a kind word to me since I arrived. You’ve done nothing but criticize my every move.”

Sandy gave her a teasing grin. “But that was only because every move you made was misguided.”

“Don’t mind him, Lady Yarrow,” Cassie put in. “I promise you that he wants your company as much as any of us.”

“Very well, Cassie, I’ll reconsider,” her sister-in-law said, “but only on the condition that you stop calling me Lady Yarrow.”

The awkwardness thus put behind them, they were able to spend the rest of the evening pleasantly enough. However, Eunice made it an early evening, explaining that she wanted to look in on Greta before going to bed. Sandy soon followed, leaving Kittridge and Cassie alone. In unspoken agreement, they made their way up the stairs together and headed toward their bedrooms, Kittridge so lost in contemplation that Cassie refrained from making a sound. Only when she paused at her door did he shake himself into awareness. “I’ve been poor company, I’m afraid,” he apologized. “I haven’t been able to put out of my head the things you said this afternoon.”

“I wish we would all put the events of this afternoon out of our minds,” she said, coloring.

“I don’t. You gave us some moments of rare honesty. It was good both for Eunice and me to hear the truth for once.” He took his wife’s hand in his and added thoughtfully, “I thank you, too, for your gentle handling of Eunice this evening. It would have made a harmful family rift if she’d gone back to town in a sulk. Are you sure you won’t mind enduring her presence for what remains of her fortnight’s visit?”

“Not at all. I think she and I will get on famously together now. Thanks to you.”

His eyebrows rose. “To me?”

“Of course.” She smiled shyly up at him. “She won’t dare to oppose me in anything more, not after you stood up to her so … so nobly in my behalf.”

“Nobly? Do you now call my explosion of temper noble?”

“It
was
noble, Robert. You were like a … a knight of old, championing your lady in distress.”

“Good God! Is
that
how you saw me?”

“Oh, yes!” A flush suffused her cheeks, but she admitted it anyway. “That is
exactly
how I saw you.”

He peered down at her, trying to make out her expression in the dim light of the hallway that was illuminated by only a few candles set in widely spaced sconces on the walls. “Even though you used that so-noble scene as an opportunity to point out to me how far we are from being a truly wedded couple?” he asked in disbelief.

“That has nothing to do with it. The knights of old often championed ladies who were not their wives.”

He grinned ruefully. “So, though I’m a failure as a husband, I make a passable knight?”

“Oh, much more than passable, my lord,” she insisted, a dimple he’d never before noticed appearing in her cheek. “Quite glorious, in fact.”

“Glorious!” A laugh burst out of him, but his smile immediately faded. “Cassie, my lady,” he muttered, pulling her to him, “you
are
a pearl. I don’t deserve you.”

Startled at finding herself in his arms for the second time that day, Cassie blinked up at him openmouthed. He, on his part, was startled too. He hadn’t expected to embrace her but, having done so, found himself reluctant to let her go. There was something both touching and enticing about the adoring way she was gazing up at him. The color in her cheeks fascinated him, too, with its tendency to pale or redden with the changes in her emotions. And her hair, bursting wildly, as always, from the restraining ribbon with which she’d tied it back, seemed so alive with glints of reddish light that he felt a powerful urge to bury his fingers in its curls. But in the end it was her mouth, which until this moment he’d found too full-lipped for his taste, that suddenly seemed more irresistibly desirable than anything else, and to
that urge he succumbed. Forgetting for the moment all the doubts and qualms that had kept him distant from her all these weeks, he kissed her with hungry abandon.