“You fear my heart will be inconstant? That I am a faithless and fickle lover?”
“No!” She lowered her voice as they reached her doorstep. “You must understand that I am not well. I will not always be capable of catering to your needs. Some days, I’ll needyouto cater tome.It won’t be easy. It certainly won’t be carefree and frivolous, as a gentleman expects a relationship with his mistress to be.”
He looked as if she’d slapped him. Truly, His Grace was wounded. He had traveled all the way to Longstone to court her. He’d honorably proposed marriage, yet she had refused. He’d generously volunteeredcarte blanche, and she hesitated. Now, he offered her the only thing he had left to give—himself.
If she refusedhim, she would lose Wadebridge forever.
The duke bent low to her ear. His lips brushed her cheek as he whispered, “I may not be a good man, Cassandra, but I would be good to you.”
Oh, yes, he’d be good to her.
Of that, there was no doubt in her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Cassandra sat at the dining table in her dressing gown, nibbling on a bit of bread smeared with dripping. This was a moment of great change in her life—indeed, her decision would alter everything she knew. She’d stayed up overnight contemplating the sort of woman she wished to be, going forward.
She could have a life of love and adventure. She could have something todo.
Or she could have a respectable reputation and genteel poverty. She might take in mending when funds were scarce, or perhaps stitch something pretty for a few pennies.
Cassandra wanted Wadebridge. He had been so thoughtful and attentive when she’d told him of her parents’ deaths. He’d felt guilty about his participation in the railway, and thus the demise of everything she held dear.
He had offered her the world.
She would be a fool to refuse the man she loved—who loved her in return—because she feared what other people might think of their arrangement.
Cassandra reached across the table for the teapot. She filled her cup, and then sipped in quiet contemplation. The sweetened brew calmed her nerves. Each swallow helped to clear her head.
Wadebridge had not demanded an answer right away. He’d kissed her, left her on her doorstep, and promised to meet at the station in two days’ time. His Grace would board a train for Plymouth with or without her. If she did not show, he vowed to respect her decision.
She took a long draw from her teacup, trying not to imagine the Duke of Wadebridge alone on the platform. She shivered at the thought of his black gaze scanning the steps, realizing with every passing minute that she was not coming.
Cassandra’s heart ached picturing the look on his proud face when he realized—yet again—that he’d been rejected. She dared not add her name to that list of those who’d wounded him!
“You’re up early.”
She blinked back the tears to find Honoria standing in the kitchen archway. The youngest Staunton sister wore their mother’s old dressing gown and her dark hair knotted in rag-rolls beneath a cap.
“I haven’t been to sleep,” she said, yawning. Perhaps Honoria would think her eyes watered from exhaustion, not from weeping over Wadebridge.
“Oh dear,” her young sister said. “Has something happened?”
Honoria took a seat at the table. She poured a cup of tea, filling it to the brim, and then cut a slice of bread.
Cassandra passed her the jar of fat. “The duke has asked me to leave with him.”
“Leave? Whatever do you mean, leave?” She slathered dripping on her bread, sprinkled a pinch of salt across the top, and took a bite, chewing as she awaited clarification.
If she could not even admit it to her sister, Cassandra would never have the strength to follow through with the plan. “Wadebridge wants me to be his mistress. He wishes to take me away from Longstone, and if I am to join him, I must meet him at the station first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll take the early train bound for Cornwall.”
Honoria nearly choked on her breakfast. She gulped down the tea. “My goodness, did we misjudge him? I expected His Grace to ask you for your hand…not your…your…”
Heart?
Body?
Cassandra could not bring herself to finish the sentence for her sputtering sister. She admitted the truth, instead, “He has proposed, but I declined. Indeed, I would not even hear him out whenever he broached the subject. He knows I can’t be a wife to him. God knows what he expects of me as a mistress!”
