Bellmore House, 1893
Cassie was pleased with the attention lavished on her by all. It was a bit decadent, but the power she had over these men was a heady thing. Acknowledged as the only daughter of a Duke, she held a position almost at par with royalty. Darrin, her first & only love, was not here, but she was still enjoying herself. Now only, if Darrin was here – it would be perfect, she thought. At times like these, she remembered the parties of yore when she believed herself to be truly happy in the arms of Darrin. But that was a past which she didn’t intend to visit, at least not right now. She was here to play a part, and she would to the best of her abilities. She intended to enjoy the evening ahead, little aware that she was the object of interest for a pair of midnight blue eyes.
Mark watched her from behind the curtains. He had come in late to the soiree hosted by Lady Cuthbert, the wife of the Earl of Bellmore. He had not been announced. Besides he was not a peer of the realm… yet. Indeed Lady Cuthbert had extended the invitation to him just by virtue of his relation with the Marquess of Bellingham. His Uncle Marcus or as the world knew him – the Marquess of Bellingham, was a powerful member of the ton with a title as old as his holdings were vast.
Mark shifted his attention to the lady laughing… the sound like small bells jingling at Christmas. The sound still called out to him, just like all those years ago. He was still captivated by the sound of it, just like all the other fops dancing attention upon her. But he knew the truth of her. She liked to flirt… liked the power she had over men, over him; but as long as he had his way, she would never know the extent of her power over him. It was time to move in.
“May I have the pleasure of this dance with you?” Mark said to Cassie as he approached her.
Cassie turned towards him and observed the person who had requested her for a dance. No, he had not requested even if the words sounded like a request. He was too sure of himself. He seemed to have no doubt that she would accept him. He had the effrontery to ask her for a dance without the benefit of an introduction. Or perhaps he already knew her, rather he probably knew Bella. It was tiring at times to live Bella’s life.
With a sigh, Cassie accepted his hand and together they descended on the dance floor as the music started playing a Waltz. Cassie wondered about the man she was dancing with. Surely he was a peer of the realm. Who else would dare to approach the daughter of a duke?
He was very striking, more so for the depth in his eyes than the handsomeness of his looks. No doubt he was dressed impeccably in a black coat and cravat. At six foot three, he towered over her by exactly a foot. One of the locks of his black hair had fallen over his forehead, as if it had a habit of doing so. Cassie suddenly had a strong urge to lift her hand and move them back from his eyes. She would have given in to her urges, but right then those midnight blue eyes stared into her green ones. She felt as if she would get lost in their depths.
Mark was also studying her. The slight expanse of her bosom, which was on display above the demure square cut neckline of her lemon yellow gown, called out to him to trace first his fingers and then his lips there. But he would not act on his base urges, for he knew the truth about her. However, the swirls in her green eyes pulled him in and the honey blonde tresses that fell around her face and shoulders in the newest fashion in England made him want to run his fingers in them.
She was more alluring than ever. However, there was a certain vulnerability about her now, which drew him to her more than before. To shake himself off it, he fell into their teasing tone of the past and said, “You look well, Marchioness.” Cassie realized he must mean someone else and not the ‘Bella’ she was posing to be. Bella was the daughter of a duke, not the wife of a Marquess. She sought to correct the intriguing stranger, “You are mistaken, my lord! I am not a marchioness.”
“And I am not a lord, either… Marchioness!” said he as the dance ended. The response of the past just came to his lips as he heard her call him ‘my lord’ yet again.
Mark escorted Cassie back to where she was standing earlier. Mrs. Weatherland, who was her companion for the evening was back from the retiring room and was standing, beaming at them as she saw them walk towards her. Mrs. Weatherland was a short, portly motherly lady who was employed by the Duke to take care of Cassie on occasions such as these when she would go out to mingle in the town. Seven years ago upon her husband’s death, Mrs. Weatherland had become a companion to Bella, the Duke’s daughter and remained so till the unfortunate incident that had left the Duke and his entire family bereft.
All the while Cassie wondered over the strange conversation she had with the man, about whose identity she had no idea. Only the good manners instilled in her since birth and the fear of exposing the charade she was playing kept her quiet on the subject.
Mark approached Mrs. Weatherland smilingly, kissed her cheek and said, “Good evening! You still look as pretty as I first saw you, Mrs. W.”
“Liar!” said Mrs. Weatherland. But it was clearly evident that the praise had made her happy. Cassie stared at the man she had danced with and wondered some more about him. He was stiffly formal with her when they began dancing, then he turned teasing and then silent again. Now he was being so nice and warm to the dear old lady, who was her chaperon for the evening. But the same warmth of his eyes went missing when he turned his dark eyes to her. She felt oddly disappointed.
While Cassie was busy musing over these things in her head, Mark and Mrs. Weatherland were continuing a conversation about the health and well being of each other like long acquaintances.
Suddenly Mark turned his attention to Cassie and coolly asked her, “How is the duke, my lady?”
Cassie responded amiably, “He is fine.” But she wanted him to talk to her as warmly as he had been talking to Mrs. Weatherland.
Mark saw the disappointment in Bella’s eyes. For some odd reason he wanted to comfort her. He had to put some distance between her and himself, or he would be subject to her charms yet again. Besides now there was no reason, they had to continue the charade begun by their elders. For the past six years, he had hated the relationship they were both pushed into against their will. But then, why did he feel now that he would lose something important if he walked away today.
Mrs. Weatherland interrupted his chain of thought. “Mark, my boy, you are surely going to come home with us. Alex and Nina would love to see you. It will be a wonderful surprise for them as well as for the duke.”
His expression softened as he thought of his niece and nephew. The twins reminded him of his sister, Maria and himself when they were naught but kids. Maria and he had also been twins, born just ten minutes apart of each other with him being the elder of the two. Her children were her legacy to him in a way, and he was desperate to see them after this long year apart, especially since he was never going to see Maria again. Before the thought could depress him, he turned to Mrs. Weatherland and asked her with a smile,
“How are they, Mrs. Weatherland?”
“Perfect, little monsters! Couldn’t be better. Bella looks after them now.”
He turned to the other lady. He didn’t think that Bella had a motherly bone in her body. But maybe the death of her brother and sister-in-law had brought about this change. To her he raised a brow and said,
“I am impressed, Marchioness.”
“I said I am not a Marchioness, my lord.” she gritted her teeth.
“And I said I am not a lord… Marchioness!” he responded in kind.
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