Andrea Kane (14 page)

“I’m sorry, boy,” Charles apologized quietly. “I suppose my mind is far away.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Kassie’s musical voice was soft, tentative, as was the questioning look in her expressive eyes. Her gown was of a pale blue muslin, and with the wind blowing gently about her she had the look of a fairy-tale princess.

Charles smiled, wondering at the coincidence of fate that had brought her here at this moment in time.

“Not at all, Your Grace.” There was only the briefest of hesitations before the title emerged.

Kassie smiled back, making her way through the grass until she stood beside him.

“I was out walking, and I heard a voice. I was curious as to who was about.” She paused, then corrected herself. “No, the truth is I was hoping to find you, Mr. Graves. I went to the stables, and Dobson said you had taken Noble Birth out.” A slight hint of color tinged her cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind. I did not mean to intrude.”

Charles shook his head at once. “You are not intruding. If I look surprised, it is only because it is rather early for you to be up and about, is it not?”

“Is Braden still asleep?” she countered.

He met her questioning gaze with kindness and candor. “Braden left Sherburgh before dawn.”

“A business meeting again, no doubt.” Kassie lifted her small chin defiantly.

He winced at the pointed sarcasm in her voice. “Your Grace,” he began, unsure of what he was going to say.

“Please stop calling me that, Mr. Graves.” Kassie turned her face away, and the new angle allowed Charles to see the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Until last week I was Miss Grey, and now I am suddenly Your Grace,” she continued, catching her lower lip between her teeth to stop its trembling. “It seems absurd that I should be regarded so differently when, ironically, I am so very unchanged.” Turning back to Charles, she added, “I suppose I sound very ungrateful. I don’t mean to. You have all been so kind to me. My life here at Sherburgh is more wonderful than anything I have ever imagined … a dream come true. I just wish …” Her voice trailed off.

Charles took a step forward, wanting to go to her, to comfort her … and unable to. He took a deep breath, understanding far more than she thought he did.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

Kassie gave him a small smile. “You are a friend.” It was a statement of fact. “I knew that from the moment we met.”

He nodded. “Yes … I am your friend.”

Her dimples deepened. “Very well. Then I have most certainly trapped you. Friends do not address one another formally—even those among the nobility—now do they?”

Charles chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“Then you must call me Kassie, just as Braden does.”

His blue eyes twinkled. “And you must call me Charles, just as Braden does,” he retaliated.

She gave him an exaggerated curtsy. “Very well; I agree … Charles.” That done, her curious gaze moved to the magnificent young horse that stood beside Charles. “He is splendid,” she breathed in wonder, reaching out a tentative hand.

At her questioning look Charles motioned her forward. “Yes, he is,” he agreed. “And he is quite gentle. He would not harm you.”

“I’m not afraid.” She stroked the Thoroughbred’s silky neck. “ ’Tis a shame he will be unable to race,” she said sadly, watching the horse toss his head exuberantly. “He has such spirit.”

Charles looked startled. “Why do you think he will not race?”

It was Kassie’s turn to look surprised. “Why, look at him! His legs are endless, totally out of proportion with the rest of his body. When he matures and gains weight his legs will never support him in a race!”

Charles’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “All Thoroughbreds have long, spindly legs when they are young, Kassandra. By two years old their bodies grow enough to catch up.” He ran his hand down the white blaze on Noble Birth’s forehead.

“Oh.”

He took in Kassie’s look of wonder, charmed by the fact that it did not occur to her to feel shame at her lack of knowledge, only joy at her discovery. She emanated all the grace of a beautiful, well-bred woman and all the enchantment of a candid child.

“Does Braden have many horses?” she asked, continuing to stroke Noble Birth’s lean body.

“Yes, more than a dozen. He breeds and rears them, then races them.” He grinned, adding, “And ofttimes wins.”

Kassie turned glowing eyes to Charles. “With such a fine stable of horses, he himself must ride magnificently.”

Charles nodded. “He does. Braden has been in the saddle since he learned to walk.”

Kassie gave a bright laugh. “And I’m certain I can guess who his teacher was.”

“It was my pleasure.”

The warmth of Charles’s words moved Kassie deeply. She had never known such love or loyalty in her life. And she wanted to be part of it.

“Charles? What was Braden like as a little boy?” She gazed up at Charles eagerly, brushing dark, wayward strands of hair out of her eyes.

“Much as he is now,” he answered, with a soft expression that reflected cherished memories. “Proud, independent, intelligent, caring.”

“What about his parents?”

Charles grew sober. They were approaching uncharted territory. “His parents?”

“He has never spoken of them to me. What were they like?”

Abruptly Charles stiffened, reaching for the bay’s bridle. “I must take Noble Birth back to the stables to be fed. Would you like to walk with me?”

Kassie nodded, falling into step beside him. She knew it was no coincidence that her question had caused a new tension to fill the air, only she did not know why.

When Noble Birth had been restored to his stall for feeding Kassie made an attempt to find out.

“Charles, please.” She laid a gentle hand upon his arm. “I want to understand Braden, to make him happy. But in order to do so I need to know him better. And I need your help. I am not asking that you betray him,” she added softly, “only that you love him.”

Staring down into her earnest face, Charles wondered if Braden had any idea how blessed he was to be married to this miraculous creature. Something tightened inside Charles’s chest, something he could neither explain nor define.

She deserved the truth. Yet how much of it could he give her?

“Charles?” Kassie’s voice was tentative, her eyes questioning. “Won’t you please help me?”

The truth she sought now, at least, he could tell her.

Slowly they resumed walking toward the house.

“Braden’s mother was barely sixteen when she married the late Duke of Sherburgh,” he began. “His Grace was advanced in years and deeply enamored of his beautiful new wife. Perhaps she was too young to commit herself to the marriage, perhaps she never felt love for him in return, but most probably her values were too shallow and self-centered to include the loving of another human being. I do not know.” As if to soften his words, he added, “In her defense, it was an arranged marriage, and from what I have heard, Lorraine Arlington begged her parents not to force her into it. She was a lively, spirited young noblewoman who, even after she was wed, looked forward to attending every ball and receiving attention from countless admirers. She wanted neither the responsibilities of her marriage nor the child that was created within it. In fact, she resented Braden from the moment he was born.”
Even sooner,
he thought, remembering the days, so long ago, when the whole staff could overhear Lorraine Sheffield sobbing hysterically over the loss of her slender shape.

Kassie gasped, “Surely you are mistaken, Charles. How could any mother resent her child?”

“Does your father not resent you?” The words were out before he could stop them. He could have kicked himself for uttering them as he saw a veil of sadness cloak her expression.

“That is different,” she answered in a small voice. “He never resented me as a child. It is only since Mama died … and I look so much like her. …” She broke off, willing him to understand.

A pained look crossed Charles’s face. “I never should have said that, Kassandra. I apologize. The truth is, the situations
are
entirely different. And to answer your question, I am definitely not mistaken. The duchess made no secret of her resentment. She pushed Braden away every chance she got. It did not take long before he realized that his mother felt no devotion toward him.”

Kassie’s face had gentled with compassion again. “And what of his father?”

Charles frowned. “Stephen Sheffield was an impenetrable, uncompromising man. His only vulnerability was his wife. He adored her, despised anything that kept her from him. Unfortunately, after Braden’s birth Lorraine swore that she would never bear another child. She withdrew from her husband … completely.”

“And he blamed Braden,” Kassie finished, her voice choked with tears.

Charles nodded. “Yes. Despite the fact that it was totally irrational to blame an innocent child, Stephen gave Braden no quarter. He hardened his heart toward his son from that moment on, and nothing could soften it.”

“No wonder Braden was—is—so independent,” Kassie whispered, unaware of the tears that slid down her cheeks. “He has never had anyone to care for him, even as a little boy. At least I had Mama.”

Charles made a rough sound in his throat and turned away.

Kassie blinked. “Oh, Charles, I am so sorry,” she said at once, interpreting his reaction as one of hurt. “Of course Braden was not alone. He had you.”

The look he gave her was unreadable. Then he nodded.

“Yes. And he always will.”

“Then he is a most fortunate man,” Kassie declared, blinking away her tears. “He has much to thank you for … and so do I.”

“You?”

She nodded. “Yes, Charles, I. For without your love and friendship Braden would never have become the wonderful man he is today. And for that I thank you,” she stated simply.

For a moment he did not reply. Then he said in a voice that was oddly husky, “You are wrong, Kassandra. If the fates have indeed smiled down upon Braden, then their most precious offering is standing right before me. For it is not I he needs to teach him of love and trust, but you.”

At his words Kassie’s thoughts returned instantly to the scene that had taken place last night in her room. All night she had tortured herself, wondering why Braden had pulled away from her when all she wanted was to be in his arms. The reason might lie in Charles’s explanation. For based upon Braden’s experiences in the past, he would not want to allow himself to care too deeply for her. And Kassie knew enough to understand that a physical union between them would strengthen the emotional one—something Braden would undoubtedly try desperately to avoid.

If she let him.

With a smile of radiant resolve Kassie reached out to take Charles’s hand.

“Perhaps between the two of us we can provide Braden with the love he thinks he does not need,” she offered, squeezing his callused palm.

Charles noted the determined lift of Kassie’s chin, the spark in her eyes, and he grinned.

“I take it you have an idea?”

Her smile grew wider. “Oh, yes, I have an idea, Charles. Willingly or not, I intend to make Braden Sheffield fall in love with me.”

Cyril Sheffield paced the length of the library, his thoughts brooding. He was more than a bit uneasy with the situation. While he was quite certain that Braden’s marriage remained unconsummated, he was also aware of the fact that his nephew had strong feelings toward Kassandra. That complicated matters somewhat.

He stopped in his tracks, considering his options. He had to move slowly and carefully in order to arouse no suspicion. But for everyone’s sake, the marriage had to be undone—now—before it was too late.

“Cyril?” Braden walked purposefully into the library. “I need to speak with you.”

The older man started, wondering what this was all about. Braden looked tired and worried.

“Certainly,” Cyril replied carefully, waiting.

Braden rubbed his eyes wearily, then crossed over to the windows. Silently he clasped his hands behind his back and stared out over the manicured lawns, seeing nothing but his own thoughts.

Last night had been hell, and the dawn had brought no relief or resolution for its torment.

His body and mind had been at war all night, the former hard and throbbing, needing only the blessed relief of Kassie’s soft, feminine body; the latter refuting that need, then agonizing over the root of her terrifying nightmare.

Whatever had caused it, he was willing to bet his whole damned fortune that Robert Grey had something to do with it.

Abruptly he turned.

“How well do you know Robert Grey?”

Cyril blinked. Whatever he had expected, it hadn’t been this.

Slowly he stroked his jaw. “Not very well. As you know, we do not share the same friends nor frequent the same places.”

Braden gave a hard shake of his head. “Please spare me a lecture on the gentry’s lack of distinction. Just proceed.”

A look of annoyance crossed Cyril’s face, but he nodded. “Very well. Years ago I entered into several business transactions with Robert Grey. Actually, we saw very little of each other; most of the work was done by our solicitors. But I do remember that Grey was a clever businessman, very shrewd with his investments.”

“Was?”

For a moment Cyril hesitated, then he shrugged. “Yes … was. That was many years ago, before his wife died, and before he began to drink himself into oblivion. From what I hear now, he is quite unstable and of little use to anybody.”

“So you are saying that he began to drink just after his wife died?”

“As I understand it, yes,” Cyril replied.

Braden mulled this information over for a moment.

“What do you know of Kassie’s mother?” he asked next.

A smile flitted across Cyril’s face. “We met only two, possibly three times. Elena Grey was a lovely young woman. In many ways Kassandra favors her.” His smile faded abruptly. “But Elena was far more withdrawn than Kassandra is.”

“Withdrawn?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “It is difficult to explain. She always had a timid look in her eyes, as if she were frightened of something.”

Or someone,
Braden added to himself.