Chapter Six

Back at the Grantham residence some hours later, the drawing room thrummed with palpable tension.

"Oh, dear Lord, what is to become of us?" Lady Granshire wailed, pacing the Aubusson rug and dabbing a handkerchief to her temples in distraction.

"How could you allow such a thing to happen, Cassandra? And with Lady Madeleine's own cousin, the Duke of Lindenhall, at her own ball too! Do you not understand how indulging such childish recklessness has put our family's stainless reputation in jeopardy?"

"And what about my reputation?" a tearful Maggie chimed in from her chair, a handkerchief mopping her tears. "She has all but ruined my marital prospects with her selfishness, just as I feared she would," she moaned, shooting her sister an accusing glance.

"Indeed, along with her own," their mother pointed out as she continued her pacing.

"But I have told you a hundred times, it was an accident. The Duke merely stepped out in front of me, I tripped, and he caught me. That is all," Cassandra exclaimed, desperate to get through to them. "You ought to be glad I was not injured. I have never laid eyes on the Duke before, nor has he laid eyes on me. Why will you not listen to me?"

"Injured, you silly girl? It is us whom you have injured with your wild ways. You have made us a subject of common gossip. No doubt this will all be plastered all over the scandal sheets tomorrow morning," Lady Granshire told her. "Oh, I shall never recover from the ignominy."

"We can but hope the Duke does the decent thing," Lord Granshire said in a cracked voice, going to pour himself another stiff brandy.

"I pray so, Husband," his wife moaned, finally ceasing her pacing and sitting down on the sofa by the hearth. "I suppose we can only be grateful he is a duke and not some common upstart." She fixed a stern warning look on Cassandra. "And if he does propose, Daughter, you will think yourself lucky to accept without hesitation."

"Yes, Mama," Cassandra murmured, overcome with remorse. Her heavy heart sank with the certainty that a refusal of the so-called Beast of Lindenhall's potential proposal after such a scandalous encounter was unthinkable and would spell consignment to spinsterhood. At that moment, she knew that such a proposal, though a horrifying prospect, was the best she could hope for. Besides, what else could she do to repair the damage to Maggie's marital ambitions but pray the Duke would do what society demanded?

***

"Just pack my things. I will be leaving for the country as soon as everything is ready, Carlton. There is not a moment to waste," Malcom barked as he paced about the house, tired and distracted after a sleepless night. He felt trapped and was silently praying that a swift departure to the country would enable him to escape the entanglement Lady Cassandra Grantham's unexpected antics had now ensnared him in.

He had left the ball without going back into the house, not wanting to be embroiled in a scene. Early that morning, he had seen the morning papers, with their scandal sheets emblazoned with tawdry headlines citing the unfortunate events of the previous night. He could almost hear the voracious gossip that was undoubtedly already swirling about London's drawing rooms, and he shuddered, physically pained to see the accidental encounter painted in lurid shades of scandal.

He knew very well that the proper thing would be to go that day to Lady Cassandra's father and make a proposal of marriage. It was the only way her reputation could be saved. However, though he felt a coward, he could not bear facing the scrutiny such a hurried match would draw.

And neither do I wish to end up bound to some silly socialite who recoiled the second she glanced up to find it was me, the Beast of Lindenhall, who had saved her from a nasty spill. And at the cost of my own reputation too! Better to leave London as soon as possible and avoid all this unpleasantness. None shall fault me, surely, for leaving the young woman to whatever future her family manages to salvage from the aftermath of her imprudent behaviour .

However, he was just about to step outside to leave, his carriage waiting, when his stomach twisted at the sight of Madeleine's carriage pulling up behind it. Gritting his teeth in irritation at the intrusion delaying his departure, and with a fair idea of why she was there, Malcom headed back into the drawing room, waiting impatiently for Carlton to show her in.

The instant Madeleine entered the room, she fixed him with a pointed stare, making him feel very uncomfortable.

"I see you are preparing to leave," she said.

"Yes, and I am in a hurry," he replied, impatient for her to leave.

"And we all know why, Cousin. But before you go, may I remind you that your Mama and Papa would expect better from you than this? I do not think they would approve of you simply abandoning an innocent lady to scandal and derision in such an ungallant manner."

"I am not acquainted with the lady, so I cannot make such a pronouncement on her character," he said, his conscience pricking him.

"That is precisely why you at least owe her the courtesy of speaking to her family before making any rash decisions, such as bolting back to the country."

Malcom sighed and ran his hand through his hair as long-buried shards of guilt and grief resurfaced inside him once more. He suddenly remembered with cutting clarity the awful stormy day years prior when he had insisted upon his parents making haste to London, just to admire the newly purchased town-house he was so eager to show them. But in a freak accident, their carriage had crashed and overturned just a few miles from Mayfair, snatching both their lives abruptly away. Malcom had blamed himself ever since that his youthful impatience had caused the tragedy.

Do I have the right to condemn Lady Cassandra outright when my own actions have wrought such irreparable harm?

"Malcom, I know all this is hateful to you, but you must see that avoiding the discomfort of a forthright discussion with her family serves only your selfish interests and has nothing to do with justice. For the sake of yourself, our family, and Lady Cassandra and her family, you must do the honourable thing, no matter how unsavoury you find the prospect of such an alliance," Madeleine insisted calmly but firmly, her eyes boring into his. "You cannot simply run away."

Her arrows hit their mark, and Malcom felt the fight go out of him. The thought of his parents looking down on him and knowing how they would disapprove of his plan to shirk his responsibility made his chest ache.

"All right," he said finally, feeling his protected world crumbling around him. "I will do as you say."

"Good. That is settled then. Do try to keep in mind that the Granthams are a respectable family, and the young lady in question is the daughter of a marquess, not a serving wench to be abandoned on a whim. I hope to see a happy announcement of your engagement to Lady Cassandra in the newspapers in the coming days," Madeleine told him archly as she swept out of the room. Malcom watched her go with a growing sense that cruel fate was toying with him and that the solitary life he had so carefully built over the last six years was soon to be irrevocably ruined.

***

"I am so sorry I was dancing and failed to meet with you to visit the gardens as we had planned, Cassie," Diana said as the two girls walked in the grounds of Cassandra's house the following morning. "I feel as though what happened was all my fault. If I had been with you, none of this would have occurred." She sounded very upset, and Cassandra was deeply touched, linking her arm in Diana's.

"It was certainly not your fault but mine entirely. If I had not been so impatient and gone exploring on my own, well, it could all have been avoided," she assured her friend with a heavy heart.

"Do you think the Duke will come today with a proposal?" her friend asked as they headed back to the house.

"I do not know. Half of me hopes he will, and the other half hopes he won't," Cassandra admitted, feeling close to tears again but hiding it for Diana's sake. "But Mama and Papa have told me in no uncertain terms that if he does, I am to accept."

"Sadly, it seems there is no other way," Diana agreed sadly. "But perhaps it will not be so bad. He is a duke, after all, and that means you will be a duchess. You could hardly have hoped for more. I do not see how anyone can object to that."

"Except that I do not wish to be married, especially not to a complete stranger," Cassandra said with a deep sigh torn from her heart. "And especially not to the Beast of Lindenhall."

"That is just a silly nickname the Ton have given him. I am sure he is a perfect gentleman."

"He is a recluse with a reputedly bad temper," Cassandra pointed out with some bitterness, silently cursing her own wayward behaviour for her predicament. "But I have no choice but to accept him as my husband if he offers for my hand."

In silence, they walked around to the front of the house, where Diana's carriage was waiting for her.

"Well, I am sorry to leave you now, my dear, but I am meeting Mama for luncheon at one," Diana told her, her eyes full of concern as they made their farewells. "Send me a note as soon as you can if anything happens."

"I will," Cassandra promised before watching and waving, as Diana got into her carriage and drove away. She went back into the house and up to her chambers, too distracted to do anything but lay on her bed and worry. She must have dozed off, for she awoke when her maid knocked on the door.

"What is it, Anna?" Cassandra asked, rubbing her eyes.

"His Lordship requests your presence in his study, milady," Anna told her, "at once."

"Oh?" Cassandra rose from the bed, frowning. "I wonder what he wants. All right. Please tell him I will be down directly."

"Very well, milady." Anna went to do as she was asked. Puzzling over what could be the reason for her father summoning her and having the feeling it could not be good, Cassandra spent a few minutes tidying her appearance before presenting herself at the study door.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself for another telling off, she knocked timidly.

"Come in," came her father's voice from within. She opened the door and stepped inside, stunned to see her father standing with a tall, dark-haired figure who immediately turned and pinned her with a pair of bright blue eyes which she instantly recognized.

He is here, the Duke!

She felt like a deer caught in the light of a poacher's lantern when he bowed to her and brushed the back of her glove with his lips, seemingly the perfect gentleman. But the expression on his face when he straightened up was cold, and he gave off an air of barely restrained anger and awkwardness. Panic rose inside her, and she found she could hardly think with his penetrating gaze resting on her.

"Lady Cassandra. I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said in deep, rumbling baritone she had to admit was not at all unpleasant. A part of her also noticed again how good-looking he was, with his dark curls and finely sculpted features. His physique was tall and athletic, with broad shoulders, and his clothes were perfectly tailored. But looks, she knew, could be very deceiving.

Remembering her manners, she curtseyed. "Thank you, Your Grace. Likewise."

"The Duke here has made an offer for your hand, Cassandra," her father suddenly declared with a bluntness that was painful to her. "And I have given the union my blessing." He gave her a warning look.

Cassandra saw it and looked into the Duke's cold blue eyes, her heart racing in her chest. From the depths of her being, with a crushing sense of impending doom, she pulled up the necessary words she knew her father wanted to hear and croaked them out.

"Your Grace, I am honoured, and I-I accept your kind offer."

"I am honoured, My Lady," the Duke intoned, sounding for all the world as if his execution had just been announced.

"We shall be applying for a special license," her father told her with an air of distaste. Cassandra squirmed inwardly, for she knew the social stigma such hastily arranged affairs held for an upright man such as him. "The wedding shall be in three days' time, so make ready. You may leave us now."

"Thank you, Papa," Cassandra managed to murmur, her legs turning to jelly. She was shaking and feared she would not get out of the room without collapsing. But once again, her upbringing prevailed, and she curtseyed to her prospective husband once more. "Good day, Your Grace," she said. The man nodded, not a trace of a smile on his face as she turned and tried not to run headlong from the study.

She ran into her room and threw herself on the bed, letting the floodgates open. Sobs shook her body as she envisioned all the years stretching endlessly ahead being trapped at Lindenhall, shackled to a husband who surely must hate the sight of her.

This is my punishment for daring to enjoy a few minutes of exquisite freedom, to be forever cut off from the music and liveliness of London. Oh, how shall I live?!

***

"In three days' time, I shall be a married man," Malcom said with an air of stunned disbelief as he sat with Terrence in his cousin's study, already on his second brandy. "I feel as though I am about to begin a very long prison sentence."

"I know. It must be hard to take in, old man," Terrence told him sympathetically. "But at least it is all settled now, and there will be no more scandal now you've done the right thing. I must confess, I am quite astonished to discover that you took the plunge. I honestly expected to find you had already left for the country."

"I was ready to go, but then Madeleine arrived, told me what a disappointment such behaviour would be to my parents," Malcom said bitterly, sipping his drink.

"Yes, I thought she might persuade you otherwise," his cousin admitted. "Still, no use crying over spilt milk, eh? You've got to make the best of it now." Malcom gave a grunt of assent. Terrence went on, "Perhaps with time and patience the match will turn out to be not . . . wholly undesirable from your point of view."

"If you had seen the horror on her face at the prospect of being forced to wed the Beast of Lindenhall you would not say so," Malcom assured him. "The only thing uniting us at present is a mutual dislike and an unwilling adherence to duty." He sighed heavily before holding out his glass and adding, "Give me another brandy, will you?"

Terrence obliged, and as he handed the glass to Malcom he said, "I suppose this is not the right moment to claim my fifty pounds, is it?"

If looks could kill, the one Malcom gave him then would have left his cousin a small pile of smouldering ashes on the hearth rug.

***

Three days later, Cassandra found herself standing woodenly, clutching a small bouquet of white roses, inside a small chapel hastily adorned for the impending nuptials. It was an intimate ceremony, with only her family, Diana, Lady Madeleine, and Viscount Lavington, whom she had learned was the Duke's best friend, in attendance. She felt numb, barely hearing the vicar's drone over the roar in her ears as he stood side by side with the tall, dark stranger fate decreed she must wed.

She repeated the solemn marital vows by rote, having to be nudged gently from behind by her mother to complete them. All the while, she did her best to avoid meeting the Duke's hooded gaze, which she could feel now and then boring down into her from the side.

An uncomfortable silence reigned when the vicar pronounced them man and wife, and she barely noticed when he added, "You may now kiss the bride." So, she was taken aback by the butterfly touch that grazed her cheek as her new husband fulfilled what she believed he thought his unpleasant but necessary duty.

The subdued wedding breakfast, passed in similar awkwardness. The bride and groom barely spoke to one another, and the congratulations they received from friends and family sounded hollow and fabricated to Cassandra's ears. All too soon for her liking, it was time to bid the guests farewell and set off alone with the stranger beside her, to her new home in the country.

"Remember at all times, Cassandra, you are a duchess now, so try and behave like one and be a credit to us, will you?" her mother whispered in her ear as they embraced tearfully, while the Duke shook hands with her father, a stoic expression on his face.

"I will try, Mama," she promised, a lump of misery in her throat.

"It is just as well you are married now, Sister," Maggie murmured as they hugged goodbye, "and once the scandal has blown over, I am sure I shall be proud of you now that I can tell all my friends you are a duchess."

"Thank you for reminding me, Maggie. I shall miss you when I am gone to my new home,." Cassandra replied, meaning every word.

"Try and do your best to be a good wife, Cassie," her father told her sadly. "There is naught that can be done to change the situation now, so you must make the best of it and try to get on together."

"Try to be happy, dearest, and write to me," Diana said as the two girls hugged each other tightly and exchanged kisses.

"I promise I shall," Cassandra told her before turning to her family once more and saying as brightly as she could, "I hope I shall be able to visit you all very soon." But her words were met by an awkward silence. It struck dread into her heart.

Fortunately, Anna came up to her just then and bobbed a curtsey. "Many congratulations, milady," she said with a tentative smile. "I hope you will be very happy. I shall finish packing your things and travel up to be with you tomorrow. I do hope you will be well served until then."

"I am sure I shall survive, Anna, and thank you for your well wishes," Cassandra told her kindly. She was relieved that she would at least have one friend with her at her strange new home. "I shall see you tomorrow. Safe journey."

"It is time for us to depart," the Duke interjected, offering her his arm. She took it, allowing herself to be led to the carriage and helped inside, feeling like a lamb to the slaughter. The Duke got inside and sat opposite her. Cassandra did not look at him but kept her eyes on her family and Diana through the window. As the carriage rolled away, she waved them all goodbye, choking back the tears she did not want her new husband to see.