An independent, stubborn woman is surely God's revenge upon an unsuspecting mankind.

—L. Effington

Spring 1821

"Do you see them yet?" Miss Cassandra Effington shielded her eyes against the late morning sun and gazed into the distance.

"No." Anthony, Viscount St. Stephens, shook his head. "Any minute now, I should think. As I understand it, the course is not overly long."

"And did you wager a great deal on the outcome?" his wife, the former Miss Philadelphia Effington -- Delia to her closest friends -- said coolly.

"Not a great deal." He chuckled and slanted her an amused glance. "Did you?"

"Nothing of significance." Delia grinned. "And only with Cassie, so it scarcely counts."

"It most certainly does count," Cassie said firmly. "I fully expect you to pay promptly when you lose."

St. Stephens laughed. "Dare I ask which of you wagered on your brother and which chose Lord Berkley?"

"I, for one, would never wager against a member of the family." Delia's voice was firm. "Beyond that, Christian is an excellent rider with a fine eye for horseflesh."

"Christian is overly arrogant, although I daresay no more so than Leo or Drew." Cassie rolled her gaze toward the heavens. "It's a common trait among Effington males and among our brothers in particular."

St. Stephens raised a brow. "So you wagered on Berkley then?"

"Most certainly." Cassie nodded. "It will do Christian a world of good to lose at something, anything. Besides, from what I have heard of this Lord Berkley, he is rash and reckless and something of a rake. While those are not qualities I particularly look for, it seems to me, if one is wagering on a contest of this nature, those unsavory attributes would be most beneficial."

"Christian is rash and reckless and something of a rake," Delia murmured.

"Yes, but I am well acquainted with Christian and cannot bear the thought of how much more swaggering his step will be should he win. As I have never met Lord Berkley, I don't give a fig as to the effect of victory on his character."

St. Stephens laughed. "Well said."

Cassie grinned.

Delia's brows drew together. "If you feel that way, Tony, why did you wager on Christian?"

"You're making assumptions now, my love." St. Stephens's grin widened.

"I see. You too are lacking in family loyalty. Very well then." Delia's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you would care to place another wager on the outcome?"

"I should indeed." A wicked light flashed in his eye. "If I can set the stakes."

Delia gazed up at her husband with a wicked smile of her own and Cassie sighed to herself, discreetly edging away from the couple. Not that they would notice. At these moments Delia and St. Stephens stepped firmly into a world of their own.

It was at once charming and most annoying. Cassie was delighted that her sister had found love, but did she have to be so very much in love? Delia and St. Stephens had been married nearly a year, after all. Indeed, they were here, at least in part, to serve as Cassie's chaperone, and those longing, yearning, wicked looks the couple continuously traded were not at all proper, although Cassie admitted her own reaction could well be simple jealousy. After all, of the two sisters, Delia had never especially sought marriage, yet here she was: married, in love, and blissfully happy.

While her twin was four-and-twenty, edging perilously closer to a firm position on the shelf with not a real possibility for a match in sight.

Cassie wandered a few steps farther away, ignoring her sister's peal of laughter and ignoring as well the intriguing thought of precisely what stakes St. Stephens had proposed. As much as Cassie hated to admit it, she was indeed jealous. Oh, she would never wish any of Delia's happiness taken away. Cassie simply wanted it too. Not that there was any chance of that at the moment.

Perhaps it was time to lower her standards.

Cassie idly scanned the crowd gathered on a rise overlooking the road. The assembly chatted with anticipation and excitement and strained for the first glimpse of the riders. It was an interesting gathering of the ton's younger members -- in truth, a set considered rather fast. Still, the majority of those present were married couples ostensibly acting as chaperone for those as yet unwed among them. It was all very proper even if there wasn't an elderly, disapproving matron in sight, and therefore a slight, distinct undercurrent of forbidden adventure lingered about it all.

The race and accompanying wager between Christian and Lord Berkley had become quite the topic of interest in the past two weeks. So much so that Lord Warren had arranged both the contest and a festive outing on his estate on the outskirts of London. His lordship had also made a specific point of inviting Cassie to the event, not that she'd had the least intention of missing it.

Her gaze drifted to Lord Warren, chatting with a small group and obviously charming every lady present. She couldn't help but wonder how many of those ladies had also received personal invitations. The man was unquestionably attractive, with an excellent title and a tidy fortune. He was witty and dashing with a reputation for excess in all matters, including women. Not at all to Cassie's taste. Lord Warren might well be interested in her, but she hadn't the least bit of interest in him. Rather a shame, really. He was an excellent catch.

"Perhaps it's time you lowered your standards," the wry voice of her oldest brother, Leo, sounded behind her.

"I was just thinking the same thing, although I daresay you're not the one who should be giving advice in matters of this nature," Cassie said mildly and turned toward her brother. "I don't see you racing headlong toward the altar."

Leopold Effington grinned down at her with the engaging smile that had turned any number of young ladies' heads, none of whom had ever similarly engaged him. "My standards are apparently as high as yours."

"It's rather a pity, isn't it? You should think at this point at least one of us would be wed." Cassie glanced at her sister and St. Stephens. "At least Delia has found happiness."

"I daresay Delia has earned it." Leo offered his arm and Cassie took it. Sister and brother strolled aimlessly for a few moments. "Perhaps we have not suffered enough to earn happiness?"

Cassie glanced up at him, relieved to note the teasing twinkle in his eye. "I should be happy to make you suffer with a well-placed kick to your backside if that's what you wish."

Leo laughed. "I shall pass if you don't mind. Besides, I am barely nine-and-twenty and have plenty of time left to enjoy myself before the need truly arises to settle myself with a wife." He sobered. "You, however--"

"Don't say it, Leo," Cassie said firmly. "Or I shall be forced to deliver that kick and a great deal more."

Leo ignored her. "I'm serious, Cass, it's past time you were wed."

"You're not married. Neither is Drew or Christian."

"That's another matter entirely. We're men and we--"

"Not one more word. I've heard it all before and you well know I feel it's entirely unfair. No one thinks it's the least bit odd that you aren't wed, and you are far older than I."

"Indeed, I am ancient," Leo said with a grin.

"Indeed you are." Cassie heaved a resigned sigh. "It's not as though I have no desire to marry, you know. I have always wanted to make a good match."

"You have had ample opportunity."

"Ample opportunity? Apparently you have paid scant attention to the facts of my life, brother dear." She blew a disdainful breath. "For whatever reason, Delia has always attracted men with an eye toward marriage even if they tended to be exceedingly dull, with the exception of St. Stephens, of course. Whereas I have always caught the attention of men of questionable reputations, whose interest in me had nothing to do with marriage. Rakes and the like. Men suspiciously like my brothers."

"I say, Cass, that's not fair." Leo frowned ruefully. "Accurate, perhaps, but not especially fair."

"Nothing is especially fair when it comes to men and women and this whole pursuit of marriage." Cassie glanced at her brother curiously. "Why are you exhibiting this sudden interest in my marital state?"

"It's not sudden. Your future has always been important to me," Leo said in a lofty manner. "And now that Delia is wed and happy--"

"You thought you'd turn your complete attention to me?" Cassie shook her head. "I don't believe you for a moment. Besides, you and Drew and Christian have always kept a rather annoying watch on me in the mistaken opinion that I was about to plunge into scandal."

"Well, you do have a certain air about you."

"Yet here I am with a relatively spotless reputation--"

Leo raised a brow.

"I said relatively, but even you must admit, aside from a tendency to say exactly what I think--"

Leo opened his mouth to speak.

Cassie waved off his unspoken comment. "Which I have no intention of changing, by the way, my behavior has always been quite within the bounds of respectable behavior."

He narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps your chances of marriage would be enhanced if you were to at least give the appearance of being somewhat more biddable--"

"I will not change who I am to lure a match, nor do I particularly want a man who would prefer such a woman in the first place."

"Even so, there are any number of possibilities." Leo nodded in Lord Warren's direction. "What of Warren? I have it on very good authority that he is quite taken with you."

"My dear brother, Lord Warren is exactly what I don't want in a husband. He is the kind of man who would have a mistress installed before our vows were barely out of our mouths. No, if nothing else, I expect fidelity from a spouse, and men like Warren don't have a faithful bone in their bodies."

"Come now, Cass, you could give the man the benefit of the doubt. Why, I myself have a certain reputation, yet I fully intend on being entirely faithful to my wife when the time comes." He grinned. "If the time ever comes."

She ignored him. "Effington men always have been a bit different in that respect. I suspect it's because love usually plays a role. Perhaps when I find a man I can not only trust but also love--"

"Perhaps you should lower your standards."

"You said that, Leo, and you needn't say it again. I have no desire--" She pulled up short and studied her brother carefully. "You haven't answered my question. Why are you so concerned about my prospects?"

"I told you I--"

"Leo?"

His brows pulled together. "Blast it all, Cass, it's this, this, this pastime of yours. You should be married. Having children, that sort of thing. Not, well, employed."

"I see. I should have known." She bit back a grin. "First of all, dear brother, I'm not employed. I employ myself. It provides me with a sense of independence and competence and I quite enjoy it. And secondly, it's not a pastime, it's a business."

"A business." Leo groaned. "That's even worse."

"Actually, it's quite wonderful." Cassie leaned toward him confidentially. "And I am making a substantial amount of money."

Leo's brow shot up in surprise. "Refurbishing houses? I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it. I have a very exclusive, and very wealthy, clientele who employ me to decide on paint and paper and furnishings and whatever else I deem appropriate for their very opulent homes."

"And they pay you for this?" He stared at her as if he couldn't comprehend why anyone would pay good money for such a thing. It was such a very male look that it was all she could do not to laugh aloud.

"Indeed they do. In truth, my fees are exorbitant, and I am well worth it. I have excellent taste and a natural gift for decoration and design." Cassie had discovered said gift last year when she'd helped Delia refurbish the house she'd inherited from her first husband, and she'd honed it further when she'd done the same thing for the house Delia now shared with St. Stephens. "Most of my clients thus far have been women, and quite frankly, one of the reasons they are so eager to acquire my services is because I am an Effington. They adore having the advice of an Effington and are willing to pay outrageously for the privilege. Indeed," she cast him a satisfied smile, "they do not so much hire me as I select them."

"Still and all, you're, well, in business."

"You needn't sound so stuffy. My services may be overpriced but there's nothing at all disgraceful about this. I daresay there are far worse things I could be doing."

"You could be doing needlework," he muttered.

She shot him a scathing glance.

He glared in return. "Regardless, Cassandra, do not forget you are an Effington--"

"And you would do well to remember we are but a few generations removed from cutthroats and pirates who made their fortunes in ways much more unsavory than selecting carpets and directing paperhangers."

He stared for a moment, then sighed in surrender. "You're right, of course." Still, the man was not about to give up. "But can't you just do what you do for, well, fun?" His expression brightened. "That's it, Cass, do it for fun, refuse to accept so much as one more penny, and I shan't say another word about it."

"Are you daft? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say." She scoffed. "I have no intention of wasting my time redoing the homes of people for nothing. People who wager and lose more money in an evening than hardworking folk earn in a lifetime. The ton may well look down its collective nose at the legitimate earning of money, but it also measures worth very much in terms of monetary value. If I were to give away my services, they would lose their worth. Part of the appeal of having a room designed by Miss Cassandra Effington is that very few can truly afford it. I, dear brother, am a luxury."

"But you have no need of money."

"One can always use more money," she said loftily. Cassie was not about to admit to her older brother that she fully intended to donate the money she'd made to a worthy cause. She simply hadn't decided what, but was confident the cause would present itself when the time was right. "Besides, it fills my days in a useful manner and--"

"Regardless, I don't approve." He pressed his lips together firmly. "And I don't like it."

"You don't have to, because I do." She favored him with her sweetest smile and was gratified to see his resolve soften, if only just a bit. "Now then, Leo, shall we talk about your life? Your own prospects for marriage? The business nature of your own endeavors?"

"I shouldn't call it business exactly," he said uneasily. "It's really more of a--"

A shout sounded and all eyes turned toward the bend in the road and the sudden appearance of the riders: Christian on his favorite bay, Berkley on a sorrel-colored steed, both fine-looking animals. The rhythmic thud of well-shod hooves beating the ground and the growing cheers of the crowd swelled with their approach. The contestants were neck and neck, the men flattened so hard against their mounts that it was difficult to discern man from beast. The men looked as well matched as the horses.

Christian was on the far side of the road, and even from here, Cassie could see the intensity of his effort in the line of his body and furrow of his brow.

"Good Lord, he's going to lose." A sense of awe rang in Leo's voice. Not at all surprising. To the best of Cassie's recollection, Christian had never lost at anything.

"Why do you say that? They appear even to me."

Leo narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "There is still a hundred yards or so remaining, and Christian is spent. I can see it from here. Whereas Berkley--"

"Berkley does look more at ease, doesn't he?"

"I'm afraid so."

She studied the other man carefully. The difference between Berkley and Christian was apparent only under close scrutiny, but indeed his lordship did look a touch less strained, a tad more relaxed, as if the level of his endurance had yet to be reached whereas Christian's had already been breached. Even as she watched, Berkley inched ahead.

The men thundered across the finish line, Berkley a good half horse length in front of Christian. The crowd erupted in cheers and good-natured groans. Half the gathering surged down the rise to greet the victor and console the vanquished, and the other half wandered toward the linen-covered tables and the late-morning feast that had been laid out unnoticed.

Cassie and Leo started toward the riders. Christian slipped off his horse, his expression a mix of chagrin, annoyance, and genial acceptance. For a man used to winning, he seemed to innately know how to lose with grace. Cassie pushed aside a touch of guilt at wagering against her brother and turned her attention toward the gentleman who had just helped increase her savings.

Berkley still sat upon the sorrel amidst an air of confidence and congeniality. Someone handed him a tankard, and he downed its contents in one long drink, then laughed with the exhilaration of victory. And perhaps of life itself. It was a surprisingly contagious laugh, and she found herself smiling in response.

"Berkley is unmarried," Leo said idly. "And I understand he is not averse to marriage."

"From what I have heard of Berkley, he is no better than Lord Warren or you." She shook her head firmly. "I have no desire to reform a rake, Leo."

There was no doubt in her mind that the man was indeed a rake. Not merely because of rumor and gossip, but more because of the way in which he carried himself, the assured manner in which he sat his horse, the very look in his eye.

Berkley scanned the crowd, probably looking for one lady or another. He was handsome enough, and it was apparent from his bearing that he well knew it. He was obviously tall, with walnut-colored hair, charmingly disheveled, still too far away to discern the color of his eyes. His gaze skimmed past her, then returned and caught hers. His smile broadened, then deepened, in a disturbingly intimate manner, as if they shared something as yet unrecognized but quite personal nonetheless. It was at once rather intriguing and most disquieting and completely improper. She pointedly shifted her gaze. She had no intention of encouraging a man like Berkley.

Of course, she wasn't entirely certain what kind of man she should like to encourage. She knew she wanted someone respectable but not dull. Exciting but not dangerous. Strong but not overbearing. Loyal and trustworthy but not a lapdog. And this mythical paragon would love her without reservation for the rest of his days. In short, the man of her dreams would be very nearly perfect and probably did not exist.

Leo said something she didn't quite catch, but she smiled and nodded nonetheless. Perhaps he was right about lowering her standards if she did indeed wish to marry. She wanted marriage, but marriage alone was not enough. And if she was true to no one else, she should be true to herself. If that meant never marrying at all, so be it. It was not a pleasant prospect. She did not relish the idea of one day being the aging, eccentric aunt to Delia's children. Perhaps the cause to which she planned on giving her earnings should be her own future? At least if her fate was to become the peculiar, maiden aunt in the family, it would be nice not to have to depend entirely on Effington financial support.

She could say what she wanted to her brother and her sister and anyone else within hearing about her independence, earning her own way, and doing precisely as she wished, but deep down inside she knew she didn't really believe any of it. Or, at least, not all of it.

Cassie would give just about anything to be in her sister's place. To be happy and well wed and in love. But she would rather be alone than trapped for the rest of her days with the wrong man.

Cassie Effington absolutely would not lower her standards. No matter how great the price.

Copyright © 2004 by Cheryl Griffin