The Casanova Code (26 page)

“A man gets lonely when he’s all alone. I thought marrying Constance would make me forget about Sakura. It would make me forget to regret that I didn’t marry Sakura when I had the opportunity.”

“Sakura?” He liked the way that sounded, so he lifted his glass in salute. “Sakura!” Then he turned to his father. “Who is she?”

“She was the love of my life,” his father replied. “I met her when I was far too young to realize how difficult it would be for a Japanese woman to live in this country. I loved her, so I thought everyone else would too. I was wrong.” He sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair. “She tried to be like the other women in society. She even attempted to wear English clothes while she pretended to be your nanny. But Sakura was too uncomfortable and couldn’t live as if she wasn’t her true self. She returned to her native clothing and abandoned the attempt to appear English.”

“Pretended to be my nanny?”

“She was never a servant. I never paid her a wage. She just loved you so much, she thought that pretending to be your nanny would allow her to spend more time with you while I traveled on business.”

“And when you were home?”

His father smiled. “When I was home she taught me the wonders and wisdom of the pillow books.”

“So she’s . . .” He swung his drink in the direction of the secret gallery.

“Yes. The Guardians encouraged me to import items of Japanese culture, even if they weren’t appropriate for the British Museum. I insisted that we keep the pillow books someplace where you wouldn’t find them. Impressionable eyes and so forth. Sakura said it didn’t matter, that children should not be protected from that aspect of life, but . . . I built the gallery.”

“Why didn’t you . . .”

“Why didn’t I marry her?” He seemed to contemplate this a bit, though Ashton suspected this wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself that question. Ashton knew this because he’d been asking himself the same thing about Edwina.

“I was too young, too stupid, and too cowardly,” his father finally said. “I was afraid of what my business associates would say when they learned I’d married a Japanese woman. So I kept her here without benefit of marriage. Eventually, she decided that wasn’t good enough, so she left. The irony was . . . one of my overseas business associates asked for her hand.” He shook his head. “We had something special. It was as if we were fated to be together. We were connected at the soul, but I threw it all away because of stupid pride.” He swallowed from his snifter.

“She still writes?”

“Yes, but she writes in code in case her husband finds the letters. He’s a good man. He’s better than me in many respects. He married Sakura, I’ll give him that. I’ve waited for him to die for far too many years, just so I could swoop in and marry my Sakura, my sweet cherry blossom.” He sipped his drink. “But I yielded to temptation when you brought Constance home to meet me. She was so young and spirited and beautiful. She reminded me of my Sakura. I didn’t think Constance would be interested in an old man like me. I proposed in jest, but when she accepted, I thought she would be the answer to a prayer.”

“And was she?”

His lips thinned. “I still pray. Then you ran off and joined the Rifles.”

“I was going to ask Constance to marry me, but then learned you had beat me to it.”

He smiled. “I wish it had been otherwise. And I imagine Constance wishes it had been otherwise as well.”

Ashton shook his head. “She prefers your money to my company. I’m not interested in the social world she finds so interesting.”

“That’s two of us.” His father finished his drink and poured another. Ashton, finding the conversation sobering, placed his hand over his glass, refusing more. “I was pleased that she would have an escort to all those parties and dances and such when you returned.”

“With a bullet hole in my leg,” Ashton added.

“There is that, but the Rifles seemed to make a man out of you. You’re not the same man now that you were when you left.” He shook his head. “Back in those days you were reckless and wild.”

“I wanted you to notice me, to get your attention. You were always so concerned with business, you didn’t have time for a son.”

His father tilted his head. “That’s not something I’m proud of. I wanted to spend time with you, but a new business is a harsh mistress, as you’ll soon discover. I supported you as best I could, but someone had to mind the store.”

“She lied to Edwina, you know,” Ashton grumbled, using the tip of his stick to stab at the floor.

“Who?”

“Constance.” He looked up. “She said Matthew was my son and that I ran because she was pregnant.”

His father shook his head. “Constance was a virgin the night I wed her. I saw the blood on the sheets myself.”

“Nevertheless, her lies were enough to persuade Edwina to marry someone else.”

“You’d proposed to her?” his father asked.

“No, but I intended to.”
She should have waited.

“Intentions be damned,” his father said. “It’s the doing that matters.”

“I should have told her that night,” Ashton said. If only he’d been wiser the night they were together. “I should have told her I loved her.”

“Who? Constance?” his father asked, confused.

Ashton just shook his head. “Don’t do the same thing to Matthew that you did to me. Falcon Freight is running smoothly. You’ve got some good men who can make good decisions. Let them carry some of the load, while you spend some time with your son.” Ashton smiled. “Otherwise you’ll be dealing with another reprobate in ten years.”

“You didn’t turn out so bad.” His father lifted his glass in a toast.

“The credit for that belongs to another.” Another who was going to marry Walter.

They sat in silence a moment.

“I propose we strike a barter,” his father said. “I won’t repeat my earlier mistakes with Matthew if you don’t follow in my footsteps with . . . what was her name?”

“Edwina.” Ashton smiled. It was a beautiful name. Unique. So perfect for her.

“That’s an awful name.” His father made a distasteful face. “Whatever happened to the good old-fashioned names, like Mary or Rose?”

“Edwina is a modern woman, a harbinger of the future.”

“Well, if you love her, make her yours. It’s never too late till the ring’s on her finger. Otherwise you’ll be reading these letters for the rest of your life. Here.” He tied the ribbon that Ashton had stolen from Edwina’s journal and pushed the tidy stack toward his son. “Keep them for the lonely times. You’ll find them to be little comfort, but better than none. Take this advice from one who knows.”

O
NCE
THE
ENGAGEMENT
HAD
BEEN
ANNOUNCED
, Walter had practically moved in with the Hargrove family. Every time Edwina seemed to turn around, Walter would be standing there. She even caught him poking through the family mail when she teased him about changing his delivery address to her residence. She sometimes wondered if her parents were so anxious for her to marry just so they could reclaim their house and privacy.

Both her father and Walter were due to arrive from the office. These days they always traveled home together. With only one week to the wedding, Edwina had fallen into the pattern of using the short time before their arrival for personal pursuits, as after Walter arrived, her activities would be predicated on his whims.

She glanced at the
Mayfair Messenger
that she’d picked up at an earlier meeting of the Rake Patrol. A headline on the inner pages mentioned the formation of a new industrial concern, C.B. Manufacturing,
determined to make rifle scope mounts. The bold print reminded her of Ashton. Would they manufacture scopes for that type of rifle he’d used in Burma and India? At least his dream would be realized, even if it was by someone else.

Poor Ashton.
She hadn’t seen him or heard from him since that confrontation last week at the Crescent. The memory of his face when he accused her of betrayal would stay with her till her dying day. Would she ever see him again? What would he say if he knew that she was indeed pregnant from their single night together? She couldn’t go to him. Not after she’d pledged her future to another man. She would always hold that night close to her heart, but it was time to move to the next adventure.

She opened her lap desk to compose a letter to her brothers. Their last letter indicated that they’d gone north to America, to a state called Louisiana. They described the most amazing sights and glorious food. Their letter stirred all her yearnings for travel to such exotic locales. She was writing to tell them as much when Walter and her father arrived.

“So what did you do today?” Walter asked in a condescending manner as he crossed the parlor to where she sat by the window.

Ever since she’d agreed to marry him, she’d noted a shift in his patterns. His tone when addressing her had changed and not in an altogether pleasant way. She heard condescension where once there had been respect. She supposed her admission of prior intimacy might warrant a certain lack of esteem, but not to this level, and certainly not from a man she’d agreed to marry. Where once Walter was concerned with her needs and wants, now her needs had become secondary to his. She felt selfish in wishing it were otherwise. Was that wrong of her? Was this a fair exchange for his promise of security?

Though she tilted her face up to accept Walter’s greeting kiss, his lips pressed her forehead, such as one would do to a child. It wasn’t that she longed for Walter’s kisses—his hadn’t the thrill that she’d discovered with Ashton—but she had agreed to be his wife, thus she was willing to offer him affection, and accept his offerings in return. She was beginning to think he didn’t exactly know how to show affection.

“I met with Faith and Claire at the Crescent,” she said. “You’ll never guess—”

“I don’t approve of Claire,” Walter interrupted. He held her fingers in his, and frowned at the ink stain on her index finger. “She’s too much of a firebrand and may place you at risk. Perhaps you should consider disassociating yourself from her.”

“From Claire?” Edwina echoed in disbelief. “I know Claire can be outspoken, but we’ve been friends for years. Her beliefs and actions are hers alone, not mine. She understands that.”

“Still, people see you together, and they will assume you believe as she does. What people think of you reflects in turn on me.” He patted himself on the chest. “No. I think I’ll have to insist that you avoid her company . . . hers and that woman at the newspaper office.”

“Sarah?”

“If that’s her name.” He stooped down so as to be on the same level as her. “A woman’s place is in her husband’s home, not working in a man’s world. My mother is anxious to show you all you’ll need to know to be a proper wife and mother. You won’t have time to spend with Sarah.”

Edwina fought to keep the frown from her face at the thought of moving in with Walter and his mother. She’d met the woman shortly after the engagement announcement, and the older widow made no secret of her disappointment in Walter’s choice for a wife. While Sarah insisted that Edwina had made the right choice for a secure future, Edwina had begun to wonder if the future would be a pleasant one. At the moment it appeared to be filled with unhappy challenges.

“And what of Faith?” she asked. “Are you going to forbid me to see her as well?”

He smiled indulgently. “I approve of Faith. She is a virtuous woman. I would have no difficulty allowing her into our house, but the other two are a different matter.”

“They are not allowed in our house?” Ashton’s words came back to her.
Don’t let him break you. You have intelligence and spirit. Any man who can’t see that is a fool. You’re a young woman, Edwina. Can you tolerate being married to a fool the rest of your life?

“It’s for your own good, my dear,” Walter continued, standing. “I’m the man. I know more about the way of the world than you.”

“Do you believe I’m intelligent, Walter?” she challenged.

“Of course, I do.” He smiled. “Your father wouldn’t have insisted that you be available to assist the Guardians if you weren’t intelligent.”

She paled. The Guardians had caused nothing but difficulty in her life. “What do you know of the Guardians?”

“Your father has promised that once we marry he’ll propose that I be allowed membership in that organization. I’m not certain of their purpose, but if your father is a member, it must be a very prestigious club.” Walter leaned over her shoulder, presumably to read what she had written to her brothers.

“What sort of assistance do you think they need of me?” she asked, placing the unfinished letter in her lap desk. She paused, recalling the time she’d hidden the scandalous netsuke in this very desk, until she’d moved it to her bureau. What would Walter have thought had he seen it there now? Though she was still angry over the Guardians, the thought made her lips turn in a half smile.

“I’m not certain.” Walter frowned down at her. “I suppose they need someone to take notes and provide refreshments. I understand that they meet in secret, so perhaps they don’t wish to use servants for such tasks. You know how servants like to talk.”

Take notes! Provide refreshments! While she wasn’t certain why the Guardians would have any interest in her, she knew it was for some other purpose than this. Could Walter be so blind as to the nature of a secret society?

“Walter, why did you propose to me?” she asked. While she knew Walter to be a good and caring friend, she’d started to wonder if those attributes would translate into a good and caring husband.

“I must admit, I hadn’t really thought we could be a match until your father suggested as much,” Walter acknowledged. “Then I started to watch you and spend more time with you. While I believe your father has been overly indulgent with you, I can see you have some lovely attributes.”

“And what attributes are those?”

“You write letters to your brothers, which is indicative of someone invested in family. You enjoy reading, a solitary recreation. I admire the self-sufficient sort of woman who can exist without the involvement of others.”

Isabella trotted into the room, the tiny bell on her collar announcing her arrival. She slipped over to Walter’s leg and stretched her paws up to the calf of his trousers, begging affection. Walter shook his leg, dislodging the kitten.

“I’ve seen the loyalty you’ve shown your lady friends, and I’m anxious to be the recipient of such loyalty from such an attractive and desirable woman,” he added with an indulgent smile. “However, if I may be so bold . . . your father loves you and thus perhaps did not employ the necessary firm hand that you required. I believe as your husband, I can intercede where someone of authority should have interceded long ago. You have the potential to be a wonderful wife, Edwina. I believe together we will have a quiet and pleasant life.”

“You mentioned my father’s love,” she said, lifting the disappointed kitten from the floor. “Yet you’ve said nothing of your own.”

“I do love you, Edwina,” he insisted. “I shall love you more, however, when you modify your current behavior to something more appropriate. And in time, I believe you’ll come to love me in return.” His lips tightened. “It’s not as if you have much choice in the matter.”

“What do you mean?” Alarms silently registered in the pit of her stomach.

“By your own admission, you’ve been ruined.” He reached over and soothed a hand down the kitten’s back. “You’re another man’s leavings. Do you honestly believe any other respectable man would marry you? You should be on your knees thanking me for overlooking this failing.”

The kitten bit Walter’s hand. It was a playful gesture, but she saw anger sweep across his face as he shook his hand free, then examined it for teeth marks. “Whatever possessed you to get a cat? You can’t train them properly the way you can a dog.”

She supposed his next demand would be that she “dismiss” her pet as well. “On my knees, Walter?” she prodded.

“I don’t insist on such outward displays of repentance.” He set his shoulders back, then raised his brows in her direction. “I’m a bigger man than that. Still, I believe some gratification is in order. And the best way to demonstrate your gratitude is to take to heart the lessons in conduct that I have offered. I’m pleased that you have abandoned that dangerous and unseemly bicycle, and I’m pleased that you’ve taken to more appropriate attire. I’m certain in time I might request other modifications of outlandish behavior, but I’m certain you will see the wisdom of my experience in such matters.”

“Such as restricting my friendships . . .” she said, carefully controlling her voice lest her anger slip through.

“Only if you form alliances with the wrong sort of people,” Walter said. “My mother knows of a number of suitable acquaintances. You should be able to replace those old friendships readily enough.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that I don’t love you?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but the warning turmoil in her stomach had grown to fill her with anxiety. Even Isabella’s soothing purring couldn’t calm her. She placed the kitten on the floor.

He smiled, a cold revengeful sort of twist of the lips. “I don’t require affection from a wife. I require obedience.”

Her mother chose that moment to enter the parlor in her dinner attire. She greeted Walter warmly. Her father followed behind, then crossed to kiss his wife on the cheek. Neither seemed to notice that Edwina trembled on the chair by the window.

What was she to do? Her parents were overjoyed about the impending nuptials. She had no prospects for another husband. Although Ashton had begged her to see him again, it was not with an offer of marriage. Her parents were unaware of her fall from grace, and if she married Walter, it would remain so. Her pregnancy would be expected, celebrated even. To break an engagement once announced was tantamount to proclaiming oneself a ruined woman. Her entire family would be disgraced.

“Edwina? Are you all right?” her mother asked. “Dinner is ready. Will you not come in with us?” Edwina glanced up, noting her father and Walter had already left the room. Only her mother remained. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t,” she replied.

“You can’t what, darling? You can’t eat dinner?”

“I can’t marry Walter.” Her lips moved as if they responded to another’s thoughts. Her own thoughts were too chaotic to form intelligent sentences.

Her mother’s face dissolved from caring concern to a knowing understanding. She pulled Edwina to a standing position and guided her toward the dining room. “Of course you can. All brides go through pre-nuptial anxieties. The invitations have been extended. The bans have been read. All is in readiness. Soon you shall be a blushing bride.”

“I can’t, Mother.” Her feet refused to take another step, leaving her stranded midway between the drawing and dining rooms. She could already see Walter impatiently standing on the other side of the dinner table, waiting on her arrival so he could take his seat. He scowled briefly in her direction, disapproving no doubt of her tardiness. She turned toward her mother. “I just can’t.”

“Why not, dear?” Concern dawned in her eyes and slowly drained her earlier supportive euphoria. Furrows appeared between her brows. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m pregnant,” Edwina admitted, too late realizing the men in the dining room could hear every word. “With another man’s child.”