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The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Complete Regency Bestsellers And One Winters Collection - Rebecca Winters


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here, Cassandra?’ His voice was tinged with the accent of the Americas, and he sounded happy.

      ‘She went to run an errand in town. I should not imagine that she will be long.’

      ‘You look busy.’

      Cassie observed the large pile of papers that littered her desk. She tried to be organised, she really did, but with the amount of work she had, such a thing was never easy.

      ‘My sister told me the good news about your betrothal.’

      ‘Did she? I was wondering if she would ever get around to mentioning it to anybody else.’ His smile was wide.

      ‘Reena is more contented than I have ever seen her.’

      ‘She deserves to be.’

      ‘I agree and I don’t think she could have chosen more wisely.’

      He watched her, his dark eyes perplexed. ‘And what of you, Cassandra? Is there someone in your life, too?’

      ‘You have been listening to rumour, I think?’

      ‘More than rumours. Lord Christopher Hanley, your uncle’s friend, claims he saw you in Whitechapel with Lord Lindsay. A large section of society is heeding him.’

      ‘Well, I have never played a big part in the life of the ton so it will suit me to be even more reclusive. What can they do, after all?’

      ‘Believe me, attack is the best form of defence. Come with your sister and me to the Forsythe ball and stare the naysayers down.’

      ‘Apart from sounding risky, did you consider the possibility you might be ousted because of your association with me?’

      He laughed. ‘My uncle is one of the richest men in England and he is dying. No one would chance offending the next heir to the dukedom.’

      In that moment Kenyon Riley seemed more like Nathaniel Lindsay than he ever had before. Powerful. Certain. Unafraid.

      Perhaps he was right. Cassie had already flouted convention with the keeping of her maiden name and no true proof of her being at Brown Street existed anywhere save with Lord Lindsay. She did not believe that Nathaniel would abandon her as she had him in Perpignan.

      ‘Maureen is having a fitting for a new gown this afternoon. You should go with her for you have worn the shades of mourning for all the months that I have known you. Perhaps it is time to branch out and live a little?’

      ‘You sound just like Reena.’

      ‘If I do, it is because I care about you and because Lindsay is a good man, an honourable man.’

      She nodded her head. ‘I know.’

      ‘He is also a man who would not ruin a woman’s reputation lightly.’

      ‘He didn’t.’

      ‘Good.’

      When he left her office she leaned back in her chair and looked out over the street at the front of the house.

      Nat was indeed much more honourable than he would think her to be, in the light of what had happened on the outskirts of Perpignan.

      They had remained in Saint Estelle for almost two weeks, always putting off their leaving for yet another day so that they could walk to the hot pools above the village or to the abandoned cottage on the other side of the river and pretend that this was their house and their life. Entwined in each other’s arms, the particular glow of lovers blocked out the rest of the world and the world became blurred and ill defined.

      Until one morning when Cassie awoke to the knowledge that her menses had not come and her breasts felt sore and full and heavy.

      Pregnant? She counted back the days and the weeks and always came up with the same conclusion. She was overdue and her body was telling her that things were changing inside.

      Elation was her first thought and then caution. Caught out in the countryside in conditions that were hardly conducive for an early pregnancy she knew Nathanael would worry. So she said nothing.

      In Perpignan she would see a doctor and then she would tell him. She knew the town and the people there. She felt at home in the narrow streets by the river. Her hand with the ruined finger crept to the secret she held in her stomach and she cradled the joy. Their child. A child born of love and of passion. Tears threatened, and she swallowed them away.

      Five days later on the way into Perpignan she began to bleed. Only a little, but enough to make her understand that she needed to be somewhere quiet and peaceful, to simply stop and relax. Each morning for the past week she had felt sick on awakening and the nausea had not abated till the noon. She wanted a hot bath and a hot meal and a bed that she could stay in that was comfortable and safe.

      She wanted a doctor’s reassurance and the time to tell Nathanael that he would be a father, in a place where they were not looking over their shoulders for any sign of who followed them.

      They had seen no trace of another since they had left Saint Estelle, always keeping away from the main roads and shadowing the rivers as they ran from the mountains down onto the plains below.

      Perhaps they were safe now and whoever had been following them had given up completely. She knew Lebansart hailed from a place farther north. Had he realised the futility of chasing them and had returned home? She prayed that it might be so.

      Taking the shaded alleys, they came into the outskirts of Perpignan at sunset and stopped on the left bank of the Basse River. The fortified walls stood before them and in the distance on a high citadel the Palace of the Kings of Mallorca sat, its limed walls pale in the last rays of sun.

      Cassandra loved this place, with its warmth and its gentle winds off the sea. When first she had come she had been entranced to finally be able to speak the language of her mother and to feel the heat of the sun on her hair, the colours of this part of the world so different to the greyness of London.

      Perpignan and the busy Mercier household had been a revelation, and the fact that she was only a cousin had made no difference to the generosity of her uncle. Celeste’s mama, Agathe, had been dead a good two years so that was yet another thread that held the cousins together.

      Another time.

      A lost life.

      A whole family gone.

      She turned to look at Nathanael who sat leaning against a low stone wall, watching her.

      ‘This was where I lived with Celeste’s family. I came here to get well.’

      ‘Hell!’ His expletive was round as he stood. ‘You never told me that. Would those at Nay have known of this?’

      She shrugged, his anxiety seeping into her contentment. ‘Perhaps they may have.’

      ‘Then we cannot enter the town, Sandrine.’

      ‘You think those who followed might find us here?’

      ‘I know they will.’

      The shadows around them moved in a way that was suddenly dangerous, the branches taking on the outline of shapes of men in her mind. Never again. Never again would she allow herself to be under some other person’s rule.

      He must have seen her fear for he moved closer. ‘We will strike north tomorrow along the coast and find a ship to take us to Marseilles. I have friends there.’

      She shook her head. Another trek across the countryside and with the further promise of snow. The reserves she had been storing up were suddenly no longer there and now it was not just her life she had to protect. She had to stop, the cramping pains in her stomach no longer able to be denied and ignored. ‘You should leave, Nathanael. While you can. I cannot go on.’

      It is me that they are after. Lebansart could pass you on a street and not know your face. Thus far you are safe.

      She wished her voice did not sound so afraid, the cold air of an oncoming night making


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