Love in Spades

Chapter One

Chapter One

~March 31, 1808~

Cassia Benton wiped at the soil muddying her skirt, wondering what color roses would bloom, if any, on the bushes she’d planted last autumn. She’d spent the entire morning tending the few plants that had sprouted of the more than thirty she’d started. She was trying to create a pink, hardier, strongly scented rose.

Last fall she’d done all the hard work involved in hybridizing her roses, and now that it was finally spring, she was waiting and watching each and every day to see what would grow. It was slow work that required more patience than skill. Mentally, she made a list of all she still needed to do: note down the growth—

“Cassia! Are you even listening to me?” her mother snapped, her voice getting uncommonly loud.

Cassie’s head jerked up. The sudden movement caused the last pin holding her heavy brown hair to fall. Her wavy locks tumbled past her shoulders. She quickly twisted it into a knot on top of her head and retrieved the pin from the floor. Shoving it in, she hoped it would hold. “I’m sorry, Mother, I was just thinking—”

“About your roses, as always! What am I going to do with you?” The exasperation in Lady Benton’s voice was palpable, leaving Cassie shifting guiltily on the sofa. Her mother turned to Cassie’s older sister, Cynthia, who had come home for a visit. Their mother frowned as she caught Cyn trying to slip Cassie a pin from her own deep mahogany hair—perfectly coiffed as always. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”

“She’s always been this way, Mother,” Cynthia said with the utmost patience. Cassie appreciated her sister a great deal. She’d always been understanding of Cassie’s passions, much more so than their mother. It was odd. Her mother was frustrated but understanding when it came to her father’s scientific work and even her older brother’s—if you could call digging up old bits of pottery science—but she never extended the same courtesy to Cassie. It wasn’t fair.

“I know,” Lady Benton said with an exaggerated sigh. “Cassia, can we have your full, undivided attention for just a few minutes? Please?”

Her mother was reduced to begging? Maybe this was serious. Cassie forced herself to focus. “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry. What is it that you wanted to speak with me about?”

“Your debut, for the twelfth time,” Lady Benton said. She tilted her head and looked meaningfully at Cassie, widening her stormy, green eyes—the same eyes all three Benton children had inherited—so as to stress the importance of the topic.

“We’ve discussed this, Mother. I’m not—”

“Yes, yes, you are,” her mother said, interrupting her. “If you’d been listening to me for the past quarter of an hour, which now, I see, you were not.” Her mother pressed her lips together for a moment, clearly holding back the words of anger she so wanted to unleash on her youngest child. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and started again. “You are now twenty-one years old. You’re practically on the shelf! You will be making your debut this season, and I expect you to be engaged by the end of it. Is that understood?”

“But, Mother!” Cassie started to protest.

“No! You no longer have the luxury to argue with me nor take more than a year to find a husband. I have let this go for long enough. I have put up with your arguments and allowed you entirely too much license. That stops now! You will go to London with your sister, and you will make your debut. There will be no arguments and no further discussion. Now you are excused to go and pack.” Her mother paused to look her up and down pointedly. “And for goodness’ sake, change into a clean dress! You are filthy. Why are you not wearing the apron I gave you?”

Cassie kept her eyes lowered so her mother couldn’t see the anger in her eyes. “I forgot. But, Mother—”

“You are dismissed!” her mother said, interrupting her again. “Cynthia, please accompany your sister to her room and assist her in packing.”

Cynthia stood up like the dutiful daughter she’d always been. She gave Cassie a small, encouraging smile.

Cassie had no choice but to follow her sister out of the room.

Once they reached Cassie’s room and closed the door, she turned on Cynthia. “There’s got to be a way—”

“No. She’s right, Cassie. It’s almost too late as it is. You’ll be coming to London and making your debut,” Cynthia said, sounding much too much like their mother for Cassie’s peace of mind.

“But Cyn, my roses! I can’t just leave them,” Cassie argued.

Cynthia shrugged. “Bring the ones you can, but you don’t have any other option. You need to marry, my sweet. Not only will it give you access to your inheritance, but you don’t want to be known as that crazy lady in the village, now do you?” she asked with a little smile.

Cassie gritted her teeth. “Is there nothing—”

“Nothing! Listen, I knew this was coming, and I did a little research,” Cyn said, opening the trunk someone had conveniently left at the foot of Cassie’s bed. Drawers were opened, and her sister started pulling clothing out and placing it carefully into the trunk. “You, of course, have heard of the Royal Society of London?”

“Of course! It’s the most prestigious society for the natural sciences in the country,” Cassie said.

“Yes, well, they meet most Fridays at Burlington House in London. I don’t see why you can’t attend.”

Cassie froze. “I… I can attend their meetings?”

“Yes. They’re open to the public,” Cyn said, continuing with her packing of Cassie’s things. She finished with the last drawer and moved to the wardrobe. “I don’t think you should bring very many of your dresses. Maybe just a few of your older ones to garden in. We’ll buy you a new wardrobe for the season,” she said in the most off-hand way.

“Garden? How can I garden in London? My plants are here!” Cassie said, feeling her throat tighten once more.

“You have a number of roses in pots. I’ve seen them. You can bring them along with you. I don’t have a greenhouse, naturally, but my breakfast parlor is very sunny. I imagine you could put a number of your plants there. We’ll set up a table for them in front of the window. And then, of course, I would love for you to plant some of your roses outside in my garden. Would you mind very much, sharing some of them with me?”

Cassie widened her eyes in surprise. “You’ve never wanted any of my roses before!”

“Yes, I have. I asked you for some last Christmas,” Cyn said.

“At Christmas! What was I to do, dig them up from the garden in the middle of winter? How ridiculous!”

“You said you would give some to me this spring, if you remember?” Cyn pointed out.

“Oh, yes. Yes, I did.” Cassie had forgotten, actually, but she would be very happy to give some to Cyn now—especially as it seemed she was going to be moving to London for the spring whether she liked it or not.

What Cassie didn’t share with anyone—nor would she ever—was the other reason she did not want to go to London: Philip Bowlette, Viscount Kineton, the man Cassie had fallen deeply, madly in love with when she’d been seventeen years old. He’d been one of her father’s students at Oxford, and she thought they’d had something special.

They’d met during Cassie’s summer holidays from school, spent three blissful months together punting on the river, going for picnics, and gardening together. When Cassie had returned home for Christmas, he’d been there happily waiting for her under the mistletoe with the most adorable grin on his handsome face. But when she returned again the following summer, he was gone. She later heard he’d graduated and married some wealthy chit in London.

He hadn’t said goodbye! Not in person. Not in a letter. He hadn’t even left a message with her father! Cassie had been devastated.

She was certain she would meet him in London if she went. She knew he was there. She knew he always attended the ton events. Even Cynthia had mentioned seeing him a few times, just enough to rub it in her face that he’d left her without a word—not that her sister did so intentionally. She’d never known what Cassie and Philip had shared, and she never would! But Cassie didn’t know what she would do if she met him now. She could only hope she didn’t throw herself at him either in tears or with her fists flying because she was still angry. Either one was a distinct possibility that Cassie didn’t even want to contemplate.

“There is no possible way I could convince Mother…” Cassie started. She stopped speaking because Cynthia had turned around to glare at her in a most mother-like way.

“Right.” Cassie sighed dramatically. She turned on her heel, saying, “I guess I’ll go and gather up my gardening things and decide which roses to bring with me.” She opened the door. “I wonder how my new seedlings would do if I moved them from the garden…” she started more to herself than anyone else, especially since she’d left Cynthia behind in her room to decide which dresses would go to London and which could safely stay behind.

Cassie certainly had no opinion on the matter. Her sister could choose for her.

~April 1~Archibald Fitzwalter strode confidently down the gangplank from the ship that had carried him, five other passengers, and a hold full of goods from Bombay to London. It had been a long journey, and he was very happy to be on solid ground once again, but clearly not as happy as Mr. Rowley, who was down on his knees and looked ready to kiss the dock itself.

Archer burst out laughing. “Really Rowley, was it that bad?” he asked the fellow who was probably just about five years older than himself.

The man looked up, tilted his head a little as he considered Archer’s query, and then shook his head. “I suppose not,” he said as he got back to his feet. “It just feels so damn good to be off that ship! Not that it wasn’t wonderful spending time with you, Fitzwalter, it was. Honestly, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there to—

“My boy!” Lord Lonsdale came up from behind Archer and slapped him on his back. “You heading off? Must come ‘round to visit. Yes, yes, must come ‘round,” the older man said through his overgrown walrus of a mustache. “Want you to meet my daughter. Told you about her, didn’t I?”

Archer laughed. “You did, my lord, a number of times. I can’t wait to meet her. She sounds like an absolutely lovely girl.”

“Not just lovely, but smart,” the man said, tapping a finger against the side of his gray-haired head.

“I would expect nothing less of a daughter of yours, my lord,” Archer said with a slight bow.

The man burst out laughing. “Indeed! Indeed.” He shook his head and patted Archer’s shoulder again. “Always the charmer, you are. Going to charm the shoes right off my little MaryAnn’s feet.”

“I will be more than happy to assist her in putting her slippers back on again,” Archer said with a wink.

The man burst out laughing again. His attention was caught by a man in livery coming up to them. “Eh? Oh, that’s me. Recognize the livery if not the man,” he told Archer.

“Well, it’s been an honor, my lord. I do hope you enjoy being home again after your long journey,” Archer said.

“I’m sure I will. Say, can I drop you someplace?”

“Oh no, thank you so much, my lord. Mrs. Tilbury said she would see me to my friend’s home in Mayfair,” Archer said.

“Oh ho!” the man said with an exaggerated wink. “So there is something there after all. And you’ve been so gentlemanly and denying it all these months, you old rascal!”

Archer laughed, but shook his head. “No, no, my lord. Truly, she is only being kind. I believe she said her sister lived very close to Lord Kineton, with whom I will be staying until I can find lodgings for myself.”

“Uh-huh.” The man sniggered and then went off with the footman who’d already loaded his lordship’s luggage onto his carriage. “Now, remember, you will be coming to meet MaryAnn. I’ll expect to see you in my lady’s drawing room before the week is out.”

“Thank you, my lord, I look forward to it.”

“You’re really going to meet his daughter?” Mr. Rowley asked after the carriage had rolled off.

“Of course! Why not? He says she’s quite pretty,” Archer said.

The man gave a shrug.

“Mr. Fitzwalter, sir, where would you like your trunk?” a sailor asked, coming down the gangway with the enormous piece of luggage in his big, beefy arms.

“My goodness, Harold! You didn’t need to carry it down by yourself,” Archer said, jumping to help the man.

“No, no. No worries. I won the coin toss and got the privilege of bringing it down.” He deposited the trunk on the ground and then held out his hand. “It’s been an honor, sir, having you on board. I know the captain is coming down to thank you himself in just a minute. I believe he’s helping Mrs. Tilbury with her things.”

“You all have been too kind,” Archer said, grasping onto the man’s hand. “Thank you for all you’ve done to make this journey most enjoyable.”

“The pleasure has been ours, sir.” He turned to walk back up the gangway, but turned back and whispered loudly, “If only all of our passengers were as kind as you, it would make these trips a lot more pleasant.” He tipped his hat and then went back aboard the ship.

“Nice fella,” Archer said. “In fact, all the sailors were, don’t you think?”

“I can’t say I met many of them,” Mr. Rowley said. “You did, though?”

“Yes, I met a number of them as I strolled about on the decks.”

Finally, Mrs. Tilbury, the sweetest middle-aged lady, made her way slowly down the gangplank, a basket in one hand, the other hand gripping tightly onto the rope to steady herself. Archer jumped forward to assist her to the ground.

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Fitzwalter. Thank you. I just… ugh, that gangplank terrifies me,” she said, looking back at the offending bridge that extended from the ship down to the dock.

“Well, just think, you’ll never have to walk on it ever again. You’re home!” he said happily.

She sighed with a big smile on her face as she looked around the docks. “Yes, home!”

Two sailors came down after her carrying her trunks followed by the captain.

“Is your carriage nearby, Mrs. Tilbury?” the captain asked, looking around.

She turned and then smiled. “Yes, yes, there it is.” She pointed toward a bright red coach. “You may see my luggage and Mr. Fitzwalter’s put on top. I’ll be driving him to Mayfair.”

The captain gave a bow and then saw to it, coming back quickly. “May I say what an honor it’s been having you both on board.” He suddenly noticed Mr. Rowley standing there and quickly added, “Er, the three of you, I meant to say.”

Mr. Rowley gave a little snort of laughter. “I’m sure you meant exactly what you said, sir. You hardly saw me at all the entire journey. I was so horridly ill.”

“Yes, I am sorry about that,” the captain said.

“Thank goodness Fitzwalter was there and kept me company a good bit,” Mr. Rowley said, giving Archer a nod.

“He kept you company in your quarters and me on my daily walks around the deck. Honestly, Mr. Fitzwalter, I don’t quite know how you did it. What a busy journey you must have had,” Mrs. Tilbury said with a little laugh.

“You all made it so very pleasant. I would have been bored beyond belief if not for both of you. And Lord Lonsdale, of course,” Archer said.

“Well, thank you again,” the captain said with a tip of his hat.

“Shall we?” the lady asked, about to start toward her carriage. “Oh, Mr. Rowley, do you need a ride as well?”

“Thank you, ma’am, no. I’ll get a hack. I’m going in a different direction. But thank you.” Mr. Rowley reached out a hand to Archer, who shook it happily.

“I do hope we’ll see each other again,” Archer said.

“As do I.”

Archer then followed Mrs. Tilbury to her conveyance, ready and eager to see what his time in London would bring.