Chapter Twenty-Three
“We can talk later. I’m meeting with the Earl any minute.” Matthew tapped his foot in the hallway in front of Lord Bolderwood’s study.
“I need you to tell me everything about Colonel Bishop.”
“This is what you want to talk about? Right now?”
“He wishes to enter into an arrangement with me, Matthew. If I’m to agree, I need to know the truth.”
“You’re not to agree to anything with him,” he ground out. “Do you understand me? Nothing.”
“You’ve always despised him, tell me why.”
“Because he’s a lecher!” he snapped. “Grew tired of whores and thought to try his hand at an aristocrat’s daughter.
Thought you had this huge dowry. Talked about you—your body—at length, at every gentlemen’s club in London, taking bets on how fast he could get your skirts off.
Once he learned we were penniless, he came to me with an offer to keep you. ”
“As a mistress,” she whispered.
“Father wasn’t even in the ground,” he hissed. “You would be disgusted at the number he suggested. But, you know? At least he’s consistent! And since we’re on the subject of honesty you should know that your value has been halved. And no, he isn’t interested in marriage.”
“You should have told me!”
“It’s not something you tell your sister, Cassandra! You were grieving and I’m supposed to have said… what? ‘Sorry Father’s dead and by the way, your fairy-tale prince came by today wondering how much it would cost to have you on your back’?”
“You should have warned me about him!” Cassandra stomped forward. “Everyone, especially him, thinks an arrangement is as good as done! He’s been aggressive, Matthew! Grabbing at me, cornering me in the halls! He tried to kiss me! If you had—”
“He what?” Matthew roared. “Just now?!”
Cassandra flinched. “In the yellow sitting room while I was recovering. You had stepped away. Mr. Reeves interrupted him, but if he hadn’t—”
“And neither of you said anything.” Matthew glared at her. “And you’re lecturing me about secrets?”
“There are so many things you hide from me!”
“I don’t think this is a conversation you want to have right now,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You don’t tell me anything!” she said. “Not about Colonel Bishop! Not your plans with Mr. Reeves. Or the telescope! Or how you didn’t even bother crafting a hunting rifle! You created a rifle for war, Matthew!”
“Yes.” Matthew’s jaw clenched. “I know.”
“To kill people, brother!”
“I know!”
“You didn’t even try to win!”
“I did everything I could to win!” His shout reverberated as the sound of a gunshot rang from the lawn.
The windows trembled, as did Matthew’s shoulders, and in an instant, he blocked himself from her.
Mask fully in place, he turned his back to her.
“And now, I’m going to do what I have to, what I am forced to, to save our family.
” His voice was unyielding as stone. “All because you couldn’t stay on a blanket. ”
Cassandra choked. “Matthew, I’m sorry.”
Another gunshot and it was Viscount Lincolnshire’s voice that spoke. “I’m in no mood to tolerate your tantrum. We leave for London in the morning. Say whatever goodbyes you need to, then go to your bedchamber and stay there. That’s an order.”
Light footsteps approached, halting Cassandra’s response.
Mr. Sanderson stood in front of them, wearing tan tweed and an out-of-place smile.
He gave a quick bow to Cassandra and turned to Matthew.
“May I have an audience, Lord Lincolnshire?” His gaze shifted between the siblings and his smile wavered. “If I’m interrupting—”
“You’re not. I’m finished with her.” Matthew straightened his suit jacket and said to Mr. Sanderson. “Lead the way.”
Without another glance in her direction, he followed Mr. Sanderson down the hall, leaving her alone as another shot rang out.
It sounded like the final nail in her coffin.
***
“Have a seat.”
“I would prefer to stand.”
“Doing what you prefer got you into this mess.” Lord Bolderwood gestured to the chair. “Sit.”
Gritting his teeth, Seth did as he was told.
Time to get used to following orders.
“I would like to negotiate.”
“This ought to be entertaining.” Lord Bolderwood scoffed. “Proceed.”
Seth took a deep breath, and as stoically as he could manage, he said, “Whatever job you have for me, create a new position for Viscount Lincolnshire. Something befitting his station. Respectable. You offered to settle his accounts, pay him enough that he can settle them on his own. Match my salary to that.”
“Are you here to bargain for Viscount Lincolnshire, or yourself?”
“Both. We’re partners.” Seth continued, “If I’m to work in London, I’ll need a house in Mayfair. Furnished. Fully staffed.”
“I suppose you’ll want a six horse carriage next.”
“Four is acceptable.” Having wealth meant nothing if a person didn’t flaunt it. “And you’ll invite the Coopers to every society event you host and attend.”
“Host,” Lord Bolderwood allowed. “I have no control over the rest of the peerage.”
“Yes, you do. You said Cassandra would want for nothing. I won’t have doors slammed in her face. Make it happen.”
Cassandra. He had been harsh with her, rushed her—pressured her.
And his love confession? What in the devil was he thinking?
She didn’t need to love him now, but if she could only wait for him.
Given time, he could earn her forgiveness, earn her love, and not demand it during the worst possible time.
The hardest part was that she was right.
He had nothing to offer her. She needed someone wealthy, but wealth was only part of the problem.
Seth would never carry a title. Never be a peer.
Legacy was a slow-road. He couldn’t change any of that, but there was one thing within his control.
One quality that could change her mind. One word that stood in the way of marrying the woman he loved.
He had to become what she needed, what he never wanted to be.
A gentleman.
“And lastly, I want you to recognize me as your son,” Seth said. “You’ll favor me. Publicly.”
Lord Bolderwood narrowed his eyes. “Bold.”
“Nonnegotiable.”
While not a gentleman by birth, marrying a wealthy, favored bastard was leagues above being a colonel’s mistress. There would be the initial scandal, of course, but their reputations could recover with Lady Dorchester’s influence.
“Public recognition, not legal. Adrian is my heir,” Lord Bolderwood said, surprising Seth with his swiftness. “What do I get in exchange for these extravagances and the fallout from such a claim?”
“What you’ve always wanted.” Seth swallowed, the words thick in his throat. “Me. Obedient.”
“In writing.” Lord Bolderwood’s hard eyes honed in on Seth’s. “You’ll sign an open-ended contract with me personally, on my terms, to be terminated at my discretion.” The older man’s expression was dark and demanding, his tone firm. “When I summon you, you answer. Nonnegotiable.”
Under Lord Bolderwood’s shadow, he felt how he had as a child. Helpless. Powerless. Small. The chains around him tightened, smothering any hope of true freedom. The shackles welded shut as he said the only words that Lord Bolderwood would want to hear from now on.
“Yes, my lord.”
***
Her belongings were packed. The sun had set.
Dinner had passed, but she hadn’t gone. The thought of eating turned her stomach, and no one would have expected her there, anyway.
She would say goodbye to the Dorchesters in the morning, if she had time.
She couldn’t bear another drawn out conversation filled with tears, nor their well-meaning sympathy.
Music drifted through the halls from the closing ceremony, a lively tune in contrast with the soul-crushing despair in her heart.
I wonder who won.
Not that it mattered.
Laying in a feather bed, Cassandra stared up to a canopy with no embroidered flowers to count.
Even if there were, she wouldn’t be able to see them through the pure darkness closing her in.
She turned onto her side and hugged her pillow.
The scent of Seth’s hair clung to the pillowcase, and she longed to hold him.
She had made such a mess of things. Matthew was furious with her, and he had every right to be.
Seth, too. She had lied to him. But what was she to say?
They couldn’t be together, and that hurt worse than her brother’s coldness, a lingering pain that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.
Cassandra was no stranger to grief, but this was new.
How was she to mourn the loss of someone while they were still alive?
Grieving countless nights and mornings that would never come to pass, black-haired, blue-eyed children that would never be born.
Growing old with someone else, or—if events carried on as they were now—alone.
A mistress. Used and then tossed away when Colonel Bishop grew bored with her.
With his treatment of her today in the hallway, he wouldn’t be kind.
Taking her pillow by the corner, she flung it across the room. It hit the brick wall with a quiet thud and dropped to the floor. She wanted to go outside, to feel the crisp breeze on her face and perhaps find a moment of peace in the simplicity of nature before her entire life fell apart.
Seth.
Would she ever see him again? Maybe once or twice in passing. And what then? Awkward greetings? Pretending everything was normal? As if she hadn’t given her heart to him so completely and then broke his in an instant? If his memory worked the way he claimed, he would never forgive her.
I can’t leave it like this.
If this was to be the last time she saw him, the last thing she ever said to him couldn’t be a lie. She needed to apologize and tell him the truth, if he would allow it. And maybe—she sighed—spend one last night with the man that I love.