Chapter Three
Mr. Prescott must have had a very definitive word with Lady Webb because the following Wednesday, a visit to the market was quite out of the question.
Cassandra could hardly hide her dismay. It was made so much worse by the smug satisfaction on Wesley Prescott’s face.
She fought the urge to plant his self-congratulatory expression in the dirt. One well-placed foot would do it.
Juliana, as sharp as ever, quickly stepped in to repair the situation.
“Fine, not the market, then,” she said. “How about a ride across the nearby fields instead? And, no, Wesley, we shall not need your assistance. A groom will do. We do not need further chaperone than each other when our only encounter will be with squirrels and birds.”
This compromise satisfied Lady Webb, who immediately gave her blessing.
Soon, the two women were dressed in their riding skirts and boots, Juliana and the groom each astride a thoroughbred and Cassie seated on sweet-tempered Willow.
Now that she was being taken out riding more often, the sturdy animal gave her full cooperation, no doubt enjoying the exchange of heavy carriage for delicate human.
Willow was not the only one to savor her new freedom.
Whenever Cassie was alone with Juliana, she became more than a paid companion.
She transformed into a friend, a sister, a cherished individual.
The weight of her questionable birth, the ever-present burden of Mr. Prescott’s unwanted attention, and concerns about what the future held… all slipped away for a brief time.
As soon as they were out of sight of Chadwick Hall, they spurred their mounts on, shrieking with girlish delight as their hats strained against the pins and ribbons that held them in place.
They rode a little too wildly, perhaps, until they were breathless, and toppled, laughing, onto the lush greenery of the field.
While Shelton kept an eye on the three mounts, the friends picked lilacs, pinning the blooms—along with their powdery scent—to their riding hats.
They spent the better part of an hour in this fashion, delaying their return as long as they could, keen to avoid the more stringent environment of Chadwick Hall. Keeping the reins soft in their hands on the way back, they let the horses walk or stop to nibble at the grass as they chose.
This was how Mr. Reid found them.
He was upon his wagon once more, a gray-haired lady in a straw bonnet seated beside him.
It did not appear to concern him that a gentleman farmer might prefer to ride in a carriage or that the supplies behind him should be delivered by an employee.
Possibly some habits from his youth were hard to shake off.
Cassie liked him all the more for not having become too proud to do the simple things with which he had grown up.
At the sight of the two young women and their groom, he brought the wagon to a halt and lifted his cap in greeting.
“Good day to you, ladies.” He spoke warmly to them both, though Cassie noticed his smile widened when he turned his head from Juliana to herself.
“May I introduce my mother, Martha Reid? Mother, this is Miss Juliana Webb and Miss Cassandra Richards.”
Willow had stepped closer to greet Duke. Unlike the three women, who smiled and nodded at each other from a polite distance, the horses touched their soft noses together.
It was all very civilized until Mrs. Reid leaned in and said to her son, in a whisper so loud that it could be clearly heard, “I see what you mean. She is the spitting image of Mary Cushio.”
“Hush, Mother.” Mr. Reid scolded her as kindly as possible, his brow creasing into a line. “My apologies, Miss Richards. My mother has grown rather hard of hearing and does not realize how well her voice travels.”
He was rewarded with a small scowl from the woman, whose hearing seemed perfectly adequate to know that she was being chastised—albeit gently—in front of strangers.
Cassie would have happily left it at that, but Juliana would never say no to a little intrigue. “Who is Mary Cushio?” She leaned forward. “We simply must know whose loveliness could rival our Cassandra’s.”
Mrs. Reid was only too pleased to offer the details, despite her son’s protestations that this was not something Miss Richards would want to hear.
“Oh, she was a rare beauty, that one,” Mrs. Reid said in a warm, country accent. “Used to work as a maid up at Chadwick Hall. Must have been, oh, at least twenty years ago.”
“Mother, I must insist.” Mr. Reid nodded toward Shelton. “There are other ears present.”
But Mrs. Reid was clearly enjoying the chance for a good bit of natter. “A gentleman who should have known better took an unhealthy interest in young Mary. The poor girl was flattered, though I can’t imagine what she expected. It wasn’t like he was going to marry her.”
A ripple of alarm ran up Cassie’s spine. This story was taking a turn she had not expected. Twenty years ago, a woman who looked very like her had been seduced. It couldn’t be…
Mr. Reid was growing increasingly agitated. “Mother, stop. I beg you.”
Cassie’s heart clenched. Did he suspect?
Mrs. Reid paused to stare at him quizzically.
“Why, Martin, ’tis but an old story. These young ladies would never find themselves in such a pickle.
” She took a long-suffering breath at her son’s interruptions and continued.
“Well, the gentleman made an absolute nuisance of himself around the girl, much like Duke is trying it on with Willow here…”
*
Duke took immediate offense. Why should the attention he was paying Willow require comment?
She certainly didn’t mind. He had whinnied and sniffed and nibbled to make his intentions clear and she had stood still, letting him know it was all perfectly fine as far as she was concerned.
She didn’t think he was a nuisance. In fact, if he hadn’t been bound to the wagon and she to her rider, they would have been off to do as they wished without unnecessary comments by his man’s mother.
Willow’s rider leaned forward, patting Willow’s shoulder, though whether she was offering reassurance or seeking it, Duke could not quite make out. He only knew she was not needed. His warm skin against Willow’s was enough.
However, as the woman did so, her hat dipped down along with the rest of her.
Duke picked up the scent of fresh lilacs.
Forgetting Willow for a moment, he snuffled at the small bunch that seemed to be growing from the woman’s head.
His nimble lips folded around a few blooms, drawing them into his mouth and allowing his teeth to procure a sample. Delicious!
“Um, miss…” called the groom.
The woman pulled away, a cry of surprise followed by a burst of laughter.
At the same time, a disgruntled bee flew up from the disturbed flowers.
It gave an angry bzzt, to which Duke replied with a sharp, forceful snort.
Both Duke and Willow jerked back, the bee seeming to follow their lurching heads, so that both horses jolted to the side in a panic.
Though his own horse was steady, the groom cried out, his arm stretched hastily toward Willow’s rider.
The woman had kept her seat, however, and began to speak kindly to Willow in a soft voice until she settled. Duke’s man, likewise, offered him gentle reassurances.
“Sorry about that,” his man told Willow’s rider. “Duke cannot resist a nibble, whether of flowers or carrots or apples. Bees, however, are not met with the same enthusiasm.”
“Perfectly understandable,” said the woman on the slender thoroughbred, a gelding whom Duke had chosen to ignore completely—though the younger steed hadn’t seemed bothered.
He had been far more interested in nibbling the grass tips than making friends.
“I happen to share your horse’s opinion on the matter. ”
Duke thoroughly approved of these two women. They were patient and warmhearted. And, most importantly, they did not rush Willow off to the stable but allowed her and Duke to rekindle their affection as if it were just as important as their own.
And there was definitely affection here. The women seemed to be from the same herd. Their scents overlapped almost completely, suggesting they spent a great deal of time in each other’s company. But the real feeling lay between Willow’s rider and Master Reid.
Both of their sets of heartbeats were accelerated, even as they sat, scarcely moving.
When the pair had greeted each other earlier, Master Reid’s heart had demonstrated an immediate excitement.
Duke had the distinct impression that Master Reid was keen to sniff and nibble Willow’s rider, although Duke had never actually seen humans do this.
Duke approved of their attraction. They seemed well suited. And if Willow’s rider came to live with them, he was certain she would allow him to partake of the lilacs that occasionally sprouted from her head.
*
“We really should be going,” said Mr. Reid. Cassie had hoped he would be reluctant to leave. Instead, he seemed awfully keen to be on his way. “We have several deliveries yet to make,” he explained. “And, no doubt,” he said, eyeing Shelton, “you are expected home shortly.”
“But we haven’t heard the rest of the story!” complained Juliana.
Mrs. Reid, however, had grown thoughtful since the interruption of her narration.
She was appraising Cassandra more closely now.
“Why don’t we have the young ladies to tea?
” she suggested. “I can finish the story of Mary Cushio without being bothered by bees. I could do with the company of women now that your sister is off and married, Martin.”
Juliana’s face dropped. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.
I am so very sorry.” She threw a helpless glance at the gentleman.
He had witnessed her cousin’s behavior at the market.
And that had been the result of a mere chance encounter with Mr. Reid in a public place.
A private call at his home would be out of the question.
“Of course, we quite understand,” he answered quickly. “Young ladies like yourselves must have very full days, with many hours accounted for, visiting friends and such.”
“No,” said Juliana with bitter honesty, “just a family who cannot tell good character when it stares them in the eye. Believe me, I would far rather hear stories at your hearth than sit embroidering at mine.”
Mrs. Reid’s eyes darkened. “You need say nothing more. I understand all too well. Chadwick Hall has not changed at all, then.” She turned to Cassie and tilted her head at her, the lightheartedness of her earlier manner having evaporated. “What about you?”
“I dare not risk my employer’s displeasure by visiting you unchaperoned.”
“Oh, my dear,” answered Mrs. Reid. “A companion may certainly go for a walk on her own. And, if you happen to pass our gate and enter within, why, you will be accompanied by me.” She leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. “I think you would benefit from hearing the rest of my tale.”
“Mother, don’t.” Mr. Reid’s tone was urgent. “This is not some mere country gossip. This is her life we are talking about! Think it through. If the connection exists, would you want to know such details about your past?”
Mrs. Reid folded her hands upon her lap. “I would, indeed. If someone had been as kind to poor Mary, perhaps she would still be with us today.”
Juliana sucked in her breath. “You must hear what she has to say,” she urged Cassie. “It sounds important.”
Cassie’s seat grew increasingly uncomfortable. As much as she would love to take tea with the Reids—especially the endearing Mr. Martin Reid—this smacked of something else. The acrid smell of scandal hung in the air. But what else had she expected? Her past had been a secret for a reason.
She flicked a wary eye toward Shelton.
“You know,” said Juliana, “today’s outing has quite tired me out. Tomorrow, I shall find our morning visits sufficient to wear me out completely. A good rest in the afternoon is called for, don’t you think? You should certainly not be bound to the house for my sake, Cassandra. Should she, Shelton?”
The groom’s head jerked up, his mouth slightly open. “No, miss,” he answered at once, for what else could the poor man say?
“That’s sorted, then,” Juliana said, evidently very pleased with herself. She threw an easy grin at Cassandra.
But Cassie’s eyes were upon Mr. Reid. His own gaze was upon the ground, as though he wished himself to be anywhere else but here. Fear drove its sharp edge into Cassie’s mind. He knew the story of her past. Did he think less of her? Did she now stand no chance with him at all?
Oh, the irony! Mr. Prescott had got it quite the wrong way ’round. Mr. Reid was probably far too good for her.
“I will give it some thought,” Cassie said at last.
Polite greetings brought the spontaneous gathering to a cheerless end. Only Duke and Willow had the courage to speak of their disappointment, their whinnying and longing looks persisting until a firm grip on their reins forced them to focus on the road ahead.
This time, Cassie did not offer a soothing touch to her mount. Her own heart was too heavy. Instead, she yearned for the tender, comforting embrace of Mr. Reid. A place to truly belong. A future where her past did not matter.
And then, the agonizing thought that perhaps, after all, her past mattered too much.