Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROWEN
Rowen’s lips curled at the sight of Cassandra’s uncle Alastair standing in the open doorway. Had he overheard what he’d said to his father?
“You dare enter my house unannounced?”
“I only wished to inquire as to His Grace’s health.”
“You mean, on your money?”
“How is his health today?”
“Get out of my house.”
“I believe you are holding my niece in your house, sir.”
“Your niece stayed the evening to attend to her fiancé. A most dutiful young lady.”
“Indeed, she is. But I can no longer leave her here if our agreement is not met. It would not be proper.”
“And last night’s festivities were proper to you, sir? Your niece offered up for men’s amusement?”
“His Grace wished to make their engagement official on his birthday, and so I thought—”
“I know very well what you thought. You want her money to pay for your debts, but you have no access to her inheritance; only her husband would. Or her legal guardian.”
“It was an agreement between gentlemen, sir.”
“You must leave. My father is quite ill. We hope for recovery, but nothing is sure.”
The man made no move, only pressing his lips together.
“What? No inquiry as to your niece’s well-being?”
“I have no doubt that the dear child is being taken care of here at this great house, but she should return home with me.”
“Home, you call it?”
“You forget yourself, my lord. A girl does not spend the night in this house without consequence. People will talk…” His lips curved into a cold grin. “…and I shall not be silent.”
“Get out of my sight, you filth.”
“You cannot keep her here.”
“I can. I am now her legal guardian. Lady Cassandra is my ward.”
Alastair scowled. “On whose authority?”
“Her brother had a will, and he left her in my care. I know his solicitor contacted you. Have you met with him?”
Alastair’s brow tightened. “Not yet.”
“Then allow me to spare you the suspense. It is my legal duty to protect Lady Cassandra, and I shall from the likes of you.”
“His Grace and I had an agreement.”
“Any agreement made without my consent is illegal. Now get out.”
Servants rushed to the doorway. “My lord?”
“Take this man away and bar him from Tidesfar. He entered my house without notice. I’ll have your hides for this!”
Yelling as he went, Alastair Godwin was swiftly ushered out of the house.
Rowen tracked down the stairs and charged through the open front door. As the uncle rode off on his horse, a carriage drew up the drive.
The bloody mistress.
The carriage came to a stop, and footmen raced to flip open the door and the steps, one holding out a gloved hand for the lady to descend.
“Ah, Rowen.” Mrs. Bellamy’s smile blazed up at him. “What a pleasure to have you greet me.”
“Madam, I’m afraid I have troubling news.”
Mrs. Bellamy’s smile quickly faded.
The servants took her cloak and hat in the hall as Rowen explained about his father’s illness.
“Has the doctor not returned?”
“Not yet. It seems he has more pressing business.”
“No, no, this shall not do. You must send for His Grace’s doctor in London. Do it immediately.” Mrs. Bellamy marched up the staircase.
“I must warn you, you will find him much changed. He is having fits and struggles to speak, to move.”
“My poor darling.” Grabbing at her skirts, she twisted about on the landing. “And Francis? Where is he? With his father?”
His father in heaven.
“I do not know his whereabouts. He and His Grace had a terrible row which precipitated my father’s fit and apoplexy.”
“A row? Whatever for? They are so very close.”
“It is the truth, madam. After their fight is when Father collapsed.”
Pursing her lips, she hurried up the last flight of stairs and marched toward the Duke’s bed chamber with Rowen right behind her. The door was open, and Mrs. Bellamy cried out, gasping.
A more tender scene, Rowen could not have imagined.
Lady Cassandra, in a dressing gown, her hair loose about her shoulders, her breasts visible in the cotton fabric of her shift, held a cup of water to the Duke’s lips.
He was utterly enthralled by her and made vulgar sounds as the water dribbled from the sides of his mouth.
She patted his face with a cloth with calm precision, and he eased, moaning in delight.
Absolute perfection. No visual could have struck deeper. This was exactly the sort of satisfaction his father sought and prized.
“What is this?” Mrs. Bellamy’s words snapped like a lash.
Cassandra did not look at Mrs. Bellamy. She continued to hold the cup to the Duke’s lips as though nothing and no one else in the room existed.
“Do you think a country chit can replace me?” the mistress bit out.
Rowen drew up alongside her. “Mrs. Bellamy, may I introduce you to Lady Cassandra?”
Mrs. Bellamy’s chin lifted. “Who is she?”
“Lady Cassandra is His Grace’s fiancée,” said Rowen calmly.
Mrs. Bellamy’s posture stiffened, and in her tight choke of air, in the flash of her eyes, Rowen knew her years of ambition, of patience, had been set aflame.