Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CASSANDRA
“You are taking the child?” Rosamund said sharply.
“I am.” Cassandra folded her gown and handed it to Nancy, who tucked it into her trunk.
“And whatever will you do with it? I could find a family for it in a local village who would—”
“He has been left by his poor mother. I know what that does to a child, and I will not abandon him.”
Rosamund brought a hand to her chest. “If I could speak with you privately?”
“Nancy, we have finished here. Make sure we have not forgotten anything.”
“Your Grace. Ma’am.” Nancy bowed to the ladies and quit her mistress’s bedchamber.
Rosamund clasped her hands as if she were bracing herself for restraint or was it a battle? “Darling, you once trusted me with the truth of your loss. And I—”
“And I now rely upon you never again to speak of Frederica to any soul. If you are asked, only refer to her as an acquaintance. Never mention the timing of the child’s birth, and certainly not its parentage.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, Cassandra. I am most concerned for you.”
She took Rosamund’s cold hands in hers. “I must tell you, when I visited Frederica when the illness had overcome her, she confessed to me that the child was not her departed husband’s, and that she’d come to Jersey in order to escape prying eyes.”
“Oh, I say.” Rosamund’s fingers tightened around Cassandra’s.
“She had a small inheritance, no blood family, and so felt free to leave England and come to Jersey for her own protection and the baby’s. She did right for herself and her child.”
“Indeed, she did, yes. Did she say who the father is?”
“She refused. But I will also tell you this: after my parents unexpectedly passed away, and my brother was lost to me, I was raised by two uncles with great disregard and much cruelty. They were family. I will not take the chance that this child will suffer—and at the hands of strangers, no less.”
“I understand, darling, but find a home for him in England. Perhaps close by where you can visit or…oh, Cassandra, I simply wish to caution you. You have your husband to consider, the house of Oakley.”
“I do indeed.” Cassandra lifted her chin. “And I ask you to protect me by keeping silent. No matter what you may hear in the future.”
“Cassandra—”
“I cherish and honour our friendship, Rosamund. It has always been one of candour and great affection, has it not?”
“And I would have it remain so.” Rosamund drew in a breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Cassandra’s chest tightened at the sight.
Such feeling from Rosamund was rare indeed.
“I await your letter that you have arrived safely in England, and that all is well with you…” She squeezed Cassandra’s hand. “And with your family.”
Cassandra embraced her friend. “I shall write to you from Tidesfar, my dearest.”
“Your Grace?” Nancy appeared in the doorway. “Forgive me for interrupting, but we have a visitor.”
“A visitor? At such an hour?” exclaimed Rosamund.
Nancy’s delight was unmistakable. “Ma’am, it’s Morgan, the Duke’s man. He’s come from London.”
Cassandra rushed down the stairs and stopped short on the final step. “Morgan.”
Morgan bowed his head, crisp and exact as ever. “Your Grace.”
If Morgan stood here now, Rowen had judged the situation in Jersey grave.
“Forgive the intrusion, Ma’am, but I arrived within the hour.” Morgan’s gaze flicked over her trunks piled in the hallway. “His Grace thought you might prefer… not to travel alone.”
A measured breath left her. Smooth as ever. “His Grace is most thoughtful, and your timing, Morgan, impeccable. We sail for England at first light.”
His dark eyes narrowed, and he inclined his head. “Excellent.”