Shackles of Honor Page 2

  The thought of poor Marietta and her ancient, rotund husband flashed before her eyes. Suddenly, she did not want to look her age. But she straightened her posture and resolved to look her best just the same, for perhaps the famous physician downstairs would see how healthy she looked, rosy cheeks and all else considered, and change his diagnosis of her ghastly disease.

  “Are you quite ready, darling?” It was Ellis come to escort her down to dinner. “Or are you once again too preoccupied with that looking glass?”

  Cassidy opened the door to her chamber, glaring out at her brother as he stood before her in the hallway smiling, amused with his own wit. “You beast,” she scolded.

  “Well, whatever it is that I am…come along or we’ll be late.”

  Taking his arm, she mentioned, “I’ve not seen Mother since this morning. Or Father, for that matter.”

  “Well, while you were off gallivanting with your Gavin Clark, Father was locked in his study with a man whom I’ve never seen before, and Mother was pacing in her chamber like a caged lioness.”

  “What is this all about, Ellis? I’ve felt nervous…insecure somehow all the day long,” Cassidy confided. “Something is amiss. Don’t you feel it?”

  Ellis, in a rare moment of somber words, admitted, “Yes. I…I don’t understand their silence in the matter…Mother and Father, I mean. I…I’m unsettled myself.” Then, obviously having seen her need of his strength, he smiled and added, “But look at you! How could anything unpleasant happen on this night when you look as beautiful as a young bride, radiant and ready to be presented to her bridegroom!”

  “I love your flattery, Ellis, for I know that you give it sparingly and sincerely.” She paused at the threshold to the dining room, lifting herself on her toes, and placed an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

  “Let us sup then, sister.”

  He opened the dining hall doors, escorting her in to dine with their parents and the mysterious owner of the violent bay.

  Cassidy smiled warmly a moment, her attention arrested by her mother, already seated at the long table laden with rich foods.

  “Good evening, Mother,” she greeted.

  She looked up to where her father stood across the room next to their dinner guest, who turned away from the window and toward her and her brother only when her father exclaimed, “Ellis! Cassidy! At last.”

  Though it was her father who greeted them, it was the stranger who captured her gaze. He was indeed a stranger, a tall, dark-haired man, large in stature and astoundingly more attractive, even for his angry expression, than any man whom Cassidy had theretofore laid eyes upon. In those brief moments, Cassidy was struck by his carriage, his feature of face and form. His jaw was firmly set, masculinely squared, his cheekbones high and well defined. His mouth, though set in a rather frowning, hard expression, flaunted strong lips that were not too thin but rather perfectly chiseled. His eyes were the darkest of brown shaded by thick, black lashes, which were striking, for though his hair was dark, its shade was a hue of brown like his eyes, but lighter than his lashes and brows. His hands were clasped at his back, but it was apparent that his arms were finely and massively built, for his sleeves were fitted with an uncommon snugness just below each broad shoulder. He wore a white shirt, red cravat, black vest and coat, and black breeches, with brilliantly polished black boots that cuffed just below his knee. All this Cassidy surmised in a matter of moments, thinking that this must indeed be a highly respected and wealthy physician who stood so ominously in the family dining hall.

  “Come now, Carlisle. Meet my children,” Calvert Shea prodded as he put a hand at the stranger’s shoulder and guided him toward Ellis and Cassidy.

  “This is my son, Ellis.” Ellis held out a hand, which the stranger took and shook firmly.

  “Good evening, Mr. Shea,” the stranger greeted. His voice was deep and rich like molasses.

  “And…and this is…Cassidy, my daughter.” Cassidy was unnerved by the manner in which her father stumbled over his words as if fighting not to say them. She at once, however, for propriety demanded it, held out her hand in offering that the stranger may take it and place his greeting kiss on her crocheted glove. His eyes captured her own for a moment. Cassidy again noted the odd shiver trickle down her spine, for the deep brown of his eyes held no warmth but appeared cold and indifferent.

  Much to Cassidy’s dismay and discomfort, the stranger paused, drawing in breath before he finally took her hand in his. Further to her dismay was the fact that his touch sent an odd spark through her arm and into her chest as he did not raise her hand to his lips but rather took the less familiar but completely proper liberty of simply placing his other hand over hers and bowing to her for an instant before releasing her altogether.

  “Ellis, Cassidy…this is Mason Carlisle. Mason is a…a…” her father stammered.

  “Our parents are acquainted,” the stranger finished awkwardly while bestowing a rather scolding glance at Cassidy’s father.

  Cassidy felt that she could reach out and rub between her fingers the drapery of tension that hung oppressive in the air. Unsettled, she looked to her mother for support but found only an expression of helpless guilt on her mother’s pale face.

  “Come now. Let us all sit down to a satisfying meal, shall we?” Lord Calvert Shea was undone! Cassidy was in awe at his awkward manner. Restlessly he twisted the gold band at his left wrist, a gesture of uncertainty and disquiet that Cassidy had never before witnessed in her father. Glancing to Ellis, she saw the frown that threatened to show itself at any minute. Obviously Ellis was as uncomfortable as she.

  As the others made to take their places, the stranger, rather Mason Carlisle, paused. Then suddenly a question erupted almost violently from him. “You’ve kept them in ignorance these many years?” he growled at her father.

  Milady Shea dropped her gaze guiltily to her lap. Lord Shea cleared his throat and looked away when Ellis and Cassidy both looked to him for explanation. Cassidy began to tremble far more severely than before. Somehow she sensed the very fabric of her life, the security of her childhood and home, unraveling before her eyes.

  “To what do you refer, sir?” Ellis asked rather too boisterously, but Cassidy was glad he had. Obviously there was something being secreted that she and Ellis needed to know.

  “Sir,” the man began, “I refer to the fact that neither you nor your sister have any knowledge of who I am or why I have come to Terrill.”

  “Should we?” Ellis was angry. It was not setting well with him that his father had kept him in ignorance about the matter.

  “In my opinion…yes.” The stranger’s anger was increasing as well. Cassidy could see it blatantly.

  “Oh, please, Mason!” her mother ventured suddenly. “We only wanted to…don’t let her know this way!”

  As all sets of eyes in the room fell to Cassidy, she knew then. She knew that this Mason Carlisle must be some uniquely gifted student of medicine—that he’d come to confirm her condition, whatever it was and fatal as it must be, from the looks on all their faces.

  “Don’t let me know what?” she managed to choke out, forcing her head high and her back to further straighten. Always perfect posture, her mother had taught—even in the face of death.

  “Oh, my darling!” Milady Shea cried out suddenly, burying her face in her hands. “We’ve done you such a great wrong by not telling you. We only wanted to protect you, darling. To let you lead a happy life and—”

  “What are you speaking of, Mother?” Cassidy asked. “Truly you are frightening me.” She felt the beginning of hysteria rising within her bosom, but it was not her mother who answered her, nor her father.

  “I’m none other than he who will obviously inform you of your betrothal, Miss Shea. I’m here to bring you back to the Carlisle ancestral home for a period of adjustment before the official wedding ceremony.” He was severe and heartless in his wording, blunt and lacking emotion.

  Cassidy turned toward him slowly. “You…yo
u inform me of my betrothal?” Cassidy stammered. Visions of Marietta Longswold Rapier having to endure the affections of Lord Rapier flashed horridly in Cassidy’s mind. Surely not! Surely her parents would not send her off to the same fate—to wed an ancient and decrepit, obese and balding old lord in a far-off place! “My betrothal to whom?” she squeaked out.

  Mason Carlisle shook his head with reproach as he glared at Cassidy’s father and mumbled, “You’ve not prepared her in the least? Did my father know of your keeping the knowledge from her?”

  Before Lord Shea could answer, Cassidy gasped, “Your father?” All her worst visions would come true! It was clear to her now. Ellis had been right. They’ll marry you to a titled man and no other, he’d said. Only that very day he’d said it.

  An odd chuckle, a mixture of amusement and disapproval mingled, erupted from the stranger’s throat. “My father?” he repeated. “Would that you were so lucky, Miss Shea,” he growled, “for my father is a man above all others…but entirely obsessed with my mother. No. I am your betrothed.”

  Cassidy’s mouth gaped open in astonishment. She looked to her father and to her mother, both of whom appeared helpless and conquered. Then she looked to Ellis, who simply stood frowning angrily at Mason Carlisle, his chest rising and falling dramatically with barely controlled anger.

  “It has been thus arranged since the day of your birth over seventeen years ago. I remember that day, the day your father came to Carlisle Manor to inform my parents you had been born. The day I, at six years of age, was summoned to my father’s study and notified that the babe who would one day be my wife had entered into existence.”

  “You are heartless in your manner!” Cassidy’s mother sobbed as she stood and placed an arm about Cassidy’s shoulders.

  Cassidy could only stare at the man before her. Multiple visions of him were flashing in her mind. Images of his angry face before her at the altar. Images of enduring his no doubt violent physical attentions. Images of living with a man who would loathe her for the rest of her life. She wondered fleetingly if perhaps Marietta found herself in a better lot, for it was well known that Lord Alvin Rapier, for all his unappealing physical feature, was truly and wholeheartedly smitten with his young wife. But this man—this angry, fatalistically attractive young man standing before her—wore all the signs and symptoms of complete loathing directed at the woman he had declared himself honor-bound to marry.

  “It’s not true what he says. It’s not true, is it, Mother?” Cassidy choked out in a whisper.

  “I’ve lived for seventeen years knowing that the choice of wife would not be my own, battling with what I wanted to do with my life and what duty and honor bound me to do. Then I come here to fulfill my duty and find that you’ve not even informed this child of hers!” His shouting was stinging to Cassidy’s ears, and she put her hands over them, trying to drown out the sound of it.

  “You will hold your tongue in my house!” Lord Shea warned.

  Immediately Mason Carlisle inhaled a deep breath and fought to calm himself. “Forgive me,” he forced out. And it was obvious that it was forced. “My manner was…inappropriate…in the least.”

  “No,” Milady Shea corrected, turning toward him. “It is our manner that is inappropriate. You are obviously an honorable man, and we have failed where your parents have succeeded. I’ve no doubt,” she continued, reaching out and placing a hand on the man’s forearm, “I’ve no doubt that it was your mother as well as your father that so raised you to be such a man.”

  “They are the sole reason for my being here. For my involvement in wanting to be honorable…to perform my duty to—” he began.

  “I am no one’s duty, sir!” Cassidy interrupted. Her resolve to remain calm had vanished suddenly. She had meant to confront him, but when his cold, dark eyes bore into her own, she was fearful of something. Of what she wasn’t quite certain, but something about this massive, attractive, and angry man frightened her. Turning back to her mother, she begged, “Please, Mother! Deliver me from this…this nightmare! This man is a stranger to me! A stranger who regards me obviously as nothing more than an hindrance. Please, Mother…I…I…”

  “You will go, Cassidy.” It was her father’s stern voice that answered. Slowly she turned to face him, and his expression was pale and grave. He ceased in his nervous fidgeting with the gold bracelet that he ever wore and, resuming his more familiar paternal air, stated, “You will go. You know the importance…the magnitude of the importance of honor and duty. The importance of adhering to an agreement. Of—”

  Cassidy could not believe what she was being told. Surely it was a nightmare! Surely she would awaken at any moment. “I am my own person, am I not?” she argued in a whisper, her voice choking with disbelieving emotion. “I…I’m not a pawn. Surely I can be allowed to choose my own way.”

  “Father.” It was Ellis. “Surely you cannot expect Cass to go through with this?”

  When her father only hung his head guiltily, Mason Carlisle spoke, still looming before Cassidy. “You may choose your own way, yes. But it would be the right thing to do to honor the agreement your parents entered into with mine. Choose your own way, and you will always harbor the knowledge of failure toward them.”

  His words made sense, however selfless they were. And though she had despised Mason Carlisle almost instantaneously, she pitied him for having known almost his entire life what his fate would be. Slowly she looked to her father, her mother still sobbing at her side, and spoke.

  “Is this what you want, Father? For whatever reasons you have, do you want me to adhere to this betrothal agreement?”

  She watched as her father’s jaw clenched tightly shut. He stood erect, confident, and powerful once again. “Yes,” he stated simply.

  She heard her mother’s somewhat heartbroken whimper and, reaching over, pulled her mother’s arm from about her shoulders. “Then I will do as you wish. I will marry this man on whom I’ve never before laid eyes.” She looked to Mason Carlisle, his eyes still heartless and dark. “This man who looks upon me as no more than a duty, one that he so obviously despises.”

  “I hold no grievance with you, miss,” Mason Carlisle mumbled.

  “None other than the grievance you hold at my ever having been born,” Cassidy retorted calmly.

  “Father!” Ellis was angry. It was the first time in her life that Cassidy could remember her brother shouting at their father. “This…this is insanity! She knows not of him! Nor do I! How can you ask her to…how can you expect her to do this? It is obvious he has no regard for her!”

  “I have a profound regard for her!” Mason Carlisle erupted. “For I, of any in this room, acknowledge her predicament!” He stopped himself short and inhaled deeply in an attempt to regain his composure. “Excuse me. If it would be acceptable, would you have someone bring a plate to my room? It is obvious that this is the time for your family to confer alone. I’ve caused you enough irritation for one evening.” He strode past Cassidy toward the door. The aura of power and attraction about him was undeniable. Even as he brushed Cassidy’s arm in his exit, she could not deny his magnetism.

  “Mason, please…” her mother began.

  “Let the brute run, Mother,” Ellis taunted. “The longer his filthy hands are kept from Cassidy, the better!”

  Cassidy gasped as Mason paused and took hold of Ellis’s lapel in a tight fist. “Only a man of honor would subject himself to such as this!” Mason growled, looking about the room and then back to Ellis in a gesture of distaste.

  “Enough!” Lord Shea shouted. “Ellis! Enough. The man is innocent. Direct your anger at me if you must direct it.”

  Ellis still glared hatefully up at Mason, but Mason released his hold on Ellis’s lapel and, tugging at his collar, said to Lady Shea, “Disregard the plate I requested.” Looking to Cassidy angrily, he added, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Then he stormed from the room, and his angry footsteps could be heard as he bounded the stairs two and three at a time.

/>   Ellis immediately turned on his father. “What is the meaning of this, Father? Not a word! Not one inference! Never have either Cassidy or I heard of this! You’ve known since her birth? Known always? Today even, you knew and said nothing!” Cassidy’s mother burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and collapsing into a nearby chair. “Why, Father?” Ellis shouted. “Why the secrecy? Why the existence of the fact itself?”

  Cassidy was numb, body and mind. It was too much to take in. In the course of the past fewest of minutes, her life had been irrevocably changed. She had become a casualty like so many of her acquaintances, offered to a stranger. But for what price? What reason could her parents have for entering into such an agreement with a family of which she had never before heard mention?

  “We were wrong in our silence perhaps,” Lord Shea admitted, yet his authority permeated the room as he continued, “and perhaps not. For there is much that neither of you know…that neither of you could begin to understand. I only ask for your trust once more. Ever have I earned it. Throughout your entire lives I have given you no reason to doubt me…until now. With that knowledge that ever have my strivings been for your benefit…ever have I done right by the both of you…with that knowledge I tell you that still I deserve your trust. Your mother and I will regret this decision for only a short time. It will come to serve you better than you can ever imagine, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy felt the hot tears streaming down her lovely cheeks. Looking to her father, she could only whisper the question, “Why? Why, Father? Why me and why…why that man?”

  Straightening his shoulders confidently, Lord Shea answered, “That I am not in readiness to reveal to you, my daughter. There is much that I must contemplate. Much comfort that I must give your mother. But I tell you now, with the honesty of all my heart and love for you…it will serve better than you can ever imagine.”