Despite the earl’s furious objections and hostile outbursts, Lord Murray scampered away as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Have you taken leave of your senses?” The earl slapped his palms on the desk, leaned forward and glared. “Damn foolish chit. I could have brought Murray up to the mark.”
“You know how these scandals play out. Reputation is often considered more important than a title.” As a man obsessed with his own superiority, the earl expected people to forgive his daughter anything. “If the future of this country rests upon weak men like Lord Murray, God help us all.”
Cassandra listened to her father berate the lord he’d handpicked to be her husband, the lord he now regarded with disgust, repugnance and utter contempt.
The earl sneered. “I shall do everything in my power to see Murray pays a hefty price for rejecting you.”
There was little point telling her father that his need for v
engeance might be the reason she was in such dire straits. “And I shall do everything in my power to ensure I find the person responsible for kidnapping me last night.” Though the thought proved daunting, it would give her a purpose, something on which to focus her mind.
“Chadderton is on the hunt for a bride. The old fool is in desperate need of an heir and will overlook your situation for the right price.”
“No!” The word flew from her mouth before her mind engaged. “I’m of age to choose my own husband.” She could flee to the country, live a quiet life of spinsterhood, but she had too much heart, too much spirit for that. “If he will have me, I want to marry Mr Cavanagh.”
“Cavanagh?” The earl spat. “How many more times must I tell you? The boy is a degenerate. His descent into a life of dissipation is well noted. And what possible benefit is that to me?”
“Tregarth would be a powerful ally. Mr Cavanagh will inherit a substantial fortune.” Not that she cared about that. “Can you not overlook the unfortunate circumstances of his birth?”
“I can no more overlook it now than I could five years ago.”
A determination to fight saw her ball her hands into fists. “Tregarth will do anything to secure his son’s happiness. If I marry Mr Cavanagh, the earl will work tirelessly to see all whispers of a scandal squashed. It’s more than an adequate solution to the problem.”
“You’ll not marry Tregarth’s bastard!”
“Then I shall not marry at all.”
Chapter Four
Hot water soothed the tension from Benedict’s taut muscles, but it did nothing to ease the ache in his chest. He’d thought he was finished with Cassandra Mills, thought he had a grasp on the erratic emotions that accompanied the problems of the past. But having her cling to him, distraught and helpless, played havoc with his insides.
He relaxed back in his bath, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight, and closed his eyes only for vivid memories to bombard his mind. Today was not the first time he had played errant knight. He had been the one to carry her spaniel home when the dog caught its foot in a poacher’s trap. The one to carry her on his back when she twisted her ankle. The one who fixed the rope swing, who caught her every time she fell.
And yet despite that, he wasn’t the one she wanted.
Benedict reached for the brass bell on the small trestle table beside him. One ring brought the footman into the large dressing room.
“Fill and light my meerschaum, Perkins, and hand it to me, would you?” Benedict gestured to the rosewood tobacco box on the chest of drawers. “And bring my best bottle of claret.”
Perkins set about his duties, handing Benedict the pipe before heading to the wine cellar. Upon his return, Benedict noted that Perkins carried two crystal goblets on the silver tray. He was about to question the footman when the Earl of Tregarth appeared in the doorway. His father strode into the room, dragged a chair up to the bathtub and dropped onto the padded seat.
“I hear you’ve had an eventful morning?” Tregarth wore a permanent look of amusement, even today. While in his fifties, his youthful countenance belied his age. One had to look closely to see the grey streaks in his golden hair.
“Can a man not bathe in peace?”
“Not when that man is the subject of a scandal set to bring Worthen to his knees.” Tregarth snatched the meerschaum from Benedict’s fingers, put his mouth to the pipe and drew in the tobacco smoke. “Hmm. While it relaxes the mind, it does nothing to calm the soul. You have that tortured look about you, the one I’ve not seen for years.”
Benedict instructed Perkins to pour two glasses of wine and then dismissed the footman. “News spreads quickly.”
“Gossip is the ton’s favourite pastime.” His father continued to puff on the pipe, blowing smoke high into the air in the same languid fashion he did most things. “And when a devil gets his comeuppance, his enemies like to rejoice.”
There was no need to berate his father, to remind him a woman had lost her dignity. Or that her reputation was as soiled as the chemise that had covered her modesty. Tregarth merely voiced the opinion of the masses.
“And yet it’s not the devil who will pay the price.”
“No,” Tregarth mused, handing Benedict the pipe and snatching his wine goblet from the trestle table. “After they’ve stopped dancing on Worthen’s grave, people will pity the girl and blame the reckless rake who sought to take advantage.” Tregarth spoke of the fool who’d cradled a semi-naked woman in his arms amongst a host of witnesses.