Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CASSANDRA
- SIX MONTHS LATER -
Cassandra knew what that glint in her husband’s eyes meant. That tightness in his features.
“Rowen, you’re going to ruin my hair, and it’s taken Nancy over an hour to create this—”
He let out a dark laugh. “I have a gift for you, my love. That is all.” His voice, however, had that heaviness to it, that edge that only meant one thing.
Nancy bowed her head at the duke and swiftly left the room, closing the door firmly.
Cassandra’s cheeks flushed as Rowen closed the distance between them. Her insides stirred as he stood behind her seated at her vanity table. He placed a glittering necklace around her throat.
“Rowen!” She touched the canary diamond flanked by smaller diamonds on a delicate gold chain. “How beautiful. It’s perfect.”
“I had it made for you after you’d decided on your gown.” They both regarded her reflection in the looking glass of her toilette table. The yellow diamond sat perfectly at the hollow of her throat.
“Against your skin, it’s like sunlight and honey.” Rowen’s lips brushed the base of her neck, and his fingers swiftly pushed the dressing gown off her shoulders. “Damme, woman.” She was naked.
Lifting her from the chair, he took her in his arms and pressed her back against the wall as he unfastened his trousers, hitched her legs around his waist, and entered her slowly, inch by inch.
“Your Grace…”
“I cannot help myself.”
Her lips parted, her breath cut as his tip toyed with her entrance, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “Neither can I.”
He slammed his cock inside her. “Zandra. My bloody glorious Zandra…”
She met his merciless rhythm, nipping at his lips and throat with her teeth as he filled her over and over again.
The pleasure built with a fury, and she cried out as it surged through her.
His relentless pace quickened, his determined gaze locked on hers, and a deep moan escaped his chest. He buried his face in her throat as he came undone.
“I love you. God, how I love you,” he said as if it were part of breathing.
She felt his words course through her blood and beat in her heart where they belonged.
“I love you, Rowen.” Her fingertips dragged down his back to his sculpted buttocks. “But now we must finish dressing, or we shall be late for the wedding. In fact, why don’t you stay and help me so we can be done with it?”
“I only like to undress my wife.” Laughing softly, he gently released her. “But as my lady wishes.”
“Mmm,” was all she could manage as he brushed her lips with his.
Rowen fastened his trousers as Cassandra put on her underthings. He brought her the gown that hung on her wardrobe door. She stepped into it, and he nimbly fastened the buttons down her back.
“You are luminous today, my darling.” His warm gaze joined hers in the great looking glass.
The diamonds at the base of her throat caught the sunlight that filled her dressing room.
Cassandra adjusted the silk sash of her Prussian blue high-waisted gown.
The small gold embroidered oak leaves she had commissioned on the sash were as delicate as she’d hoped.
Her coppery brown hair was in long, loose ringlets about her face in the Grecian style and tied in a loose knot at the back threaded with a matching blue silk ribbon.
Small diamond droplets hung from her ears.
The two of them made a fine pair. Rowen, his hair free in the current fashion, was a dashing figure in his dark blue coat cut close to his strong body.
The subtle gold silk embroidery at the collar and cuffs was discreet and elegant, along with the cream silk waistcoat beneath and a crisp white linen shirt with a high neckcloth.
He wore his polished black Hessian boots, which she adored on him.
She took his hand in hers and smiled at their reflection. “We are ready, Oakley.”
An hour later, at the village church, they celebrated the wedding of Georgina’s older brother, Thomas, to his bride, Miss Alice Dunsmore. From all accounts, the two had been in love for quite some time, and in classic and very proper fashion, had been engaged for a year.
As the newly declared Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Hackleton walked down the aisle of the church arm in arm, Cassandra thought back to her and Rowen’s beginnings. How wildly different theirs had been from a normal couple like Thomas and his Alice.
Wildly improper and un-classic.
Rowen took her hand in his and kissed it. No, she wouldn’t have had it any other way, for it had brought them here, to this.
Afterward, they repaired to the groom’s estate nearby for the wedding breakfast. The sun shone, the sky was clear, and the heat was just enough to keep one comfortable without being too warm.
A large marquee had been set on the front lawn which provided shade for the linen-covered tables and chairs for the guests.
Musicians played from a specially made platform, and punch was served along with a vast array of wines which Rowen and Charles had gifted the couple.
A variety of dishes filled the table—roast fowl, cold hams, game pies, dressed salads, cheeses and breads.
Colourful jellies and custards, fruit tarts, sugared fruits, and sponge cakes.
Georgina’s infant son was brought back to her after visiting his grandmother at another table, and she kissed his round cheek. “I cannot get enough of him. Will it always be like this, I wonder?”
“I ask myself the very same thing every day,” laughed Cassandra, giving her son a kiss as his tiny hand reached for the white ribbons decorating the flowers at the table.
“They are the two happiest boys I have ever laid eyes on,” said Justine, standing with her young daughter before Cassandra and Georgina.
Georgina greeted Justine’s daughter, Caroline. “Where is your brother, my sweet?”
Little Caroline pointed to where her father was holding her brother whilst speaking with Georgina’s sister, who held her youngest in her arms.
“Brandon is introducing him to your nieces and nephews,” replied Justine. “And we came to visit our beloved neighbours.”
Smiling shyly, little Caroline reached out and touched Nathaniel’s foot and then Edward’s tiny hand. “Hello, Nathaniel. Hello, Edward. Please, Lady Georgina, won’t you have a girl next?”
“I hope so, my darling,” replied Georgina as she gave her son to his nurse. Elise hovered nearby, but Cassandra held her son a moment longer.
“Nathaniel is so very handsome. He grows more like the Duke every day,” remarked Justine. “His eyes are most definitely yours, Cassandra, but there’s something in the way he smiles slowly then suddenly breaks into laughter just as His Grace does.”
Cassandra’s chest filled with warmth. Indeed, her son had her eyes, which were her father’s distinct colour.
And Justine was right, Nathaniel laughed in that same way of Rowen’s.
As she handed Nathaniel to Elise, Cassandra caught her husband’s gaze in the distance.
Grinning, he raised his glass of wine in her direction, and she winked at him.
Georgina smoothed a hand down her rose silk dress. “Edward is the spitting image of Charles in every respect—blond hair, blue eyes, his nose, even his chin. Everyone says so."
“Fret not, Georgie.” Cassandra laughed softly as she touched her friend’s arm. “It is early days yet. His disposition is now forming and could very well match yours in its liveliness. We shall wait and see.”
“Do tell us, Cassandra, how your brother is faring?” asked Justine. “The whole village is buzzing with the news of the Viscount’s return from the grave and the promise of Redthorne’s renewal.”
“He is well, Justine. Since the Morbihan inquiry concluded and Lord Enggers was removed from office—”
“An utter disgrace,” murmured Georgina. “But men like Enggers are never removed. They simply reappear elsewhere, and the ton finds something new to condemn.”
“Not this time. He’s been stripped of everything. Rank, influence…all of it.” Cassandra inclined her head. “And Tristan was granted authority by the Admiralty to return to Guernsey and account for the missing and recover those presumed lost. He will finally bring home the English survivors.”
Georgina pressed a hand to her chest. “How extraordinary. He will be spoken of everywhere.”
Justine leaned forward, eyes bright. “A man believed dead…returning with proof of treachery, fighting for justice, and caring for his fellow survivors? That is what makes a hero.”
Cassandra’s gaze softened. “He would tell you it is his duty. His purpose.”
Justine touched her arm. “As I said. A hero.”
“Ah, Cassandra—I am able to come to Tidesfar Thursday next to begin sketching the family portrait,” said Georgina. “You and His Grace will still be available then, I hope?”
“Yes, we will be at home. You must bring Edward, and our boys shall play and eat and nap together whilst we work.”
“Excellent. I shall indeed.”
Georgina was a talented painter, and Rowen and Cassandra had engaged a famed artist from France, who they were a patron of, to tutor her for over a year now.
Cassandra had once asked her to paint her and Rowen’s portrait, and now that their family was complete, the portrait had extra significance for Cassandra and Rowen both.
Georgina’s face brightened. “I very much look forward to getting back to my work. It’s been quite some time.”
“Motherhood changes everything, my loves,” remarked Justine, the more experienced mother amongst them. “You shall both navigate it very well, I am sure of it.”
Cassandra picked up fresh glasses of punch, handing them to her friends. “I am certainly very happy that we three have each other with whom to share this navigation.”
Justine sipped her punch. “As am I.”
Georgina raised her glass. “To us.”