Chapter 17
“You are already making her unhappy.”
Cassian groaned as they entered the house. His mother had watched as Adelaide made straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time, while he lingered in the hallway.
“I do not want this, Mother.”
“This conversation, or this marriage?”
“This,” he repeated, gesturing to her. “It has been a long day, and I do not have time to listen to you.”
“How lovely. Is that any way to speak to your own mother!”
“Do you have anything of note to say?”
She was smiling at him; it was always the most unsettling thing she could do. It rarely meant that she had anything to be happy about. Rather, it meant that she had something over him.
“I was only going to enquire about your outing. Did she do well?”
“As a matter of fact, she did. I am proud of her for what she did there.”
Cassian felt satisfaction in saying it. His mother had always expected him to fail, and it seemed that extended to his wife. But Adelaide had not given her that. Instead, she had spoken excellently, and she had undoubtedly improved their standing in a way he had never been able to.
That, he had to admit, was because their peers did not fear her the way they feared him.
“Then what did you do?” his mother asked in an accusatory tone. “A lady does not walk away from her husband like that unless something is very wrong, indeed.”
“You would have accused me of doing something even if she had not. Nothing has happened. Everything was as it should have been, and we have made some connections. That is all.”
It was clear his mother did not believe him, but she did not question him further. Cassian was at least grateful for that much, for he was not in the mood to hear any more unpleasant words from her.
He almost expected Adelaide not to come down for dinner, but as he took his seat, she entered the room. Her gown was red and heavy, and it rustled as she moved.
She did not meet his eyes. It was as though he was not there at all, but he did not like it the way he had expected. He felt like a stranger.
“You rushed upstairs upon your return,” his mother began. “Is all well?”
“Yes,” Adelaide replied brightly. “My apologies. It was a long afternoon with a lot of questions, and I needed rest. I do hope that you did not take offense.”
For once, his mother seemed to have nothing to say. Cassian waited for it, the barb that would make him defend his wife, but it never came. Instead, she smiled.
“It is quite all right. I remember those events well. It is always at its worst when you are a newlywed. You put on that ring, and suddenly, everyone expects you to divulge every detail about your marriage. I do hope that you kept some things to yourself.”
“Of course. I only told them what was necessary.”
Cassian did not know what to think. He did not trust his mother, that much he knew, but it was difficult to know just what she wanted.
There was nothing false in her expression.
There was even a hint of respect in her eyes, but he knew there had to be something more.
She had been miserable for years, and she had no real reason to feel any different.
Then, she cleared her throat.
“Adelaide,” she said loudly enough to be heard, “I was rather hoping that you might do something for me?”
“Of course. What is it?”
There it was. She had been waiting for Adelaide to relax before unleashing her cruelty. She would ask her to leave the house, or find a reason to get an annulment, or do any other horrible thing.
Iris Blackmoor was cruelty personified, as far as Cassian was concerned, and that meant she did not know how to extend real kindness.
“Would you brush my hair?” she asked.
Cassian faltered, an angry response lodged in his throat.
“I know it is not your duty,” she continued, “but I cannot bear the thought of asking a maid to do it. I do not know how long it will take, and if I must speak with someone, it might as well be you.”
Cassian and Adelaide exchanged a look. He willed her to refuse, for no good would come of it, but she did not seem to agree with him.
He begged her with his eyes not to be stubborn, to put their exchange to the side and remember who his mother was, but it was apparent that she was not going to do that.
“I would be more than happy to,” she replied gently. “I shall bring my comb with me. I had some terrible tangles at times, and not wanting to inconvenience my maid, I handled them myself.”
“Thank you.”
His mother had just expressed her gratitude for the first time in years.
Cassian could hardly eat. He was transfixed by his wife, who seemed to have a way with people that he had never managed. People were drawn to her, and he wished that he could be the same. Instead, he was someone to fear, to revile.
The meal ended, but he did not want to go to his study. He knew that if his mother wanted to speak with him, she would go there, and he did not want to see her.
He was curious about her motives, but there was nothing he could do about them. Not only that, but the most unkind part of him wanted Adelaide to see for herself just how vile she was.
He wanted her to learn a lesson about trusting his mother. Since no amount of warnings had done it, he would have to let her bear the full brunt of his mother’s cruelty.
He went to the library, where he took a seat in a quiet corner and closed his eyes. The smell of old paper was intoxicating, and even though he had no real desire to read, it was a comfort simply being there. It was quiet, secluded, and that was precisely what he needed.
Then, he heard something fall to the floor.
“Does it ever fail?” he muttered, pushing himself to his feet.
Following the source of the noise, he found Adelaide standing there with wide eyes, with a book clutched tightly between her fingers.
“I did not know that you were here,” she said quietly.
“Nor did I know you were here,” he replied, walking toward her. “What happened?”
“I was trying to grab a book,” she explained, her cheeks pink. “It was on the top shelf, and I could not quite reach it. I stretched, and I knocked this one down.”
“Which was it?”
She pointed to a thick volume, and he wondered how she intended to pull it down, even if she could reach it. With a low chuckle, he pulled it down with ease and deposited it on a table, before turning away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “Did you—your mother…”
“If you think it is a good idea, I will not stand in your way.”
“I wanted to know what you thought, now that we are alone. I did not want to refuse her, not when she so terribly needs help.”
“My mother needs help that neither you nor I could provide. If she wants to have her hair brushed, and you wish to be the one to do it, you may do so. All I ask is that you do not come to me if she says anything unkind, for you know that it is likely.”
She was quiet, her lips curled into a pout. He did not know why other people were so drawn to her, but he wished that he were immune to her pull. She was too tempting to walk away from, too kind to let anyone be cruel to her.
Cassian knew, despite his warning, that he would defend her ferociously if his mother dared say one cruel word to her. He just hoped that his wife was not making a mistake.
“Do you want her to get better?” Adelaide asked.
“Of course I do. Who would want their mother to get worse?”
“I know, but you speak of her with such contempt. She is unwell, Cassian.”
“I know that. I also know that nothing I do helps her. There is only so much that a person can do before they give in, and I reached my limit. She can do as she pleases; it is easier that way. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
But the determination in her eyes told him that she was not listening to a word he said. He almost admired her for it, as he had not been that person in years, but he knew it would only be in vain. His mother would revert to her old ways, and Adelaide would pay for it.
“You may be right,” she conceded. “But what if you are not? What if she has decided that she can no longer live like this? What if I am the only chance she has? I would rather show kindness and be proven wrong than be cruel for the sake of proving myself right.”
She hauled the book into her arms and made to leave, but he caught her by the shoulder and turned her back.
“There is a ball tomorrow,” he said quickly. “Lord and Lady Poulston again. I know that it is short notice, but… if you must know, all three of us have been invited.”
She paused, her eyes searching his, before she placed her book down as gently as she could.
“All three of us,” she echoed. “Have you told her that? Is that why she has changed her mind about her appearance?”
“No. To be honest, I do not know what has brought this on, but I need it to remain that way. If you do manage to brush her hair tomorrow, I will see her after and ask her whether she would like to attend.”
“Is that—” She broke off.
But he knew what she was going to say. She was going to ask if it was wise to give his mother the option, to take her out in society, knowing how volatile she was. It was a risk, yes, but it was one that he had to take.
“I do not know what else to do. If she learns that she was invited somewhere and I declined on her behalf, heaven knows what she will do. We have to appease her where we can.”
“Then perhaps, given the circumstances, it would be best if I asked her instead? I do not mean to cause offense, but she seems to like me at the moment, or at least she is willing to be on my good side. If I ask, she might be calmer.”
“If that is what you want. I would prefer that you spend as little time with her as possible, but if it is what you want, I will not stand in your way.”
“Then it is settled,” she replied, before leaving the room.
Cassian remained there, already dreading the conversation. It was not only that he was concerned about what his mother would say to Adelaide about herself, but also what she would say about him.
What she would say about what he did.