Chapter 31
“They will be busy,” the Duke of Pridefield, who had insisted Cassian call him Leonard, said with a low laugh. “You need not look so concerned.”
Cassian inclined his head to him. “I am not concerned.”
Leonard smiled as though he had expected that. “Of course not.”
The five men set off together, their pace unhurried as they took the road leading toward the village. Cassian walked half a step behind the others without meaning to. He corrected it at once, not wanting to appear intimidated by the older men.
“You are a friend now, Cassian. You may speak without fear of censure.”
“I am aware,” Cassian replied. “I am just not used to doing so. You must have heard the rumors about me.”
Levi nodded, though there was a knowing look in his eyes. “We know better than to believe rumors.”
They reached the edge of the village, the low buildings appearing between the trees. Cassian was familiar with the sight, but the other gentlemen took it in with great interest.
After a while, Leonard broke the silence.
“So, how is your marriage?”
Cassian slowed down, then resumed his pace. “It is… certainly an adjustment.”
“That is the most diplomatic answer I have ever heard,” Owen snorted. “Which usually means it is not going as smoothly as you have hoped.”
Cassian glanced at him. “It is not going poorly.”
“No,” Morgan said. “But you are guarded.”
Cassian stopped then.
The others followed suit, though none appeared surprised.
For the first time, Cassian felt as though he was not the only man to have difficulty in his marriage.
“I have been so all my life,” he said quietly. “It has served me well.”
“Perhaps, but it will not serve your wife.”
Cassian looked away. He knew that Adelaide was affected by it, and he wanted to change, but it was not as simple as merely wanting to.
“I am present enough.”
Owen tilted his head. “In body, certainly, but there is more to marriage than that.”
“You speak as though I am neglectful.”
“We speak as men who have already made the same mistakes,” Owen replied, not unkindly.
Levi stopped in front of him. He was not the oldest of the four gentlemen, but there was a quiet wisdom about him that was unmatched.
“You invited us here,” he pointed out. “You allowed her friends into your home. Those are not the actions of a man indifferent to his wife.”
Cassian chuckled ruefully. It was true that he was a good enough husband, but he felt he was still missing something.
“Then why does everything I give her feel insufficient?”
“Because withheld affection is not all too different from absence,” Morgan said knowingly.
Cassian swallowed. The truth of it struck deeper than he had expected.
Leonard briefly placed a hand on his shoulder.
It was then that Cassian realized just how much he needed the support of older gentlemen such as themselves, ones who had been where he was and gotten through it.
“You do not need to explain yourself to us,” Leonard assured him. “But you will need to decide whether you intend to remain a guest in your own marriage.”
“I am new to this,” Cassian admitted. “To all of it.”
Owen smiled, the expression unexpectedly gentle. “At one point, we all were. You will grow up, and you will learn.”
They resumed walking, side by side this time, and though Cassian did not speak again for a while, the space between them felt smaller at last.
The butcher’s stall proved more engaging than Cassian had anticipated.
Owen handled the exchange with practiced familiarity, inspecting the cuts with a discerning eye and speaking easily with the man behind the counter.
Leonard offered commentary from the side, while Levi observed with quiet approval.
Cassian stood slightly apart at first, his hands clasped behind his back, uncertain where to place himself.
“Cassian,” Owen said, gesturing with his chin, “you have not voiced your opinion.”
“I have little experience in such matters. I usually send my servants to buy meat.”
“Then you will acquire some knowledge,” Owen replied. “It is not as though we are discussing treaties.”
Cassian hesitated, then leaned forward, studying the meat with care. After a moment, he nodded toward a joint. The butcher smiled, evidently pleased, and wrapped the cut with efficient hands.
“That will do,” Leonard said. “You chose well.”
They moved on through the green. A vendor called out his greetings as they passed, and Owen returned them with casual ease. Cassian watched the exchange, noting the way the others shifted naturally between rank and familiarity, never quite relinquishing either.
At a nearby stall, Owen paused to examine a collection of small carved figures. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands. “My wife will appreciate this greatly.”
“Yes,” Leonard agreed. “Once she has lectured you about your impulsive purchases.”
The gentlemen laughed, and Cassian found himself smiling before he could stop himself.
The realization startled him.
They moved on, stopping to speak with two men who wished to raise concerns about a boundary hedge. Cassian listened closely, asked measured questions, and offered a solution that satisfied them both.
When they departed, Owen regarded him with open approval.
“You speak plainly,” he noted. “It is effective.”
Cassian shrugged, a gesture that felt unfamiliar. “Of course. There is no benefit in excessive formality.”
“That is not what I would have expected you to say.”
Cassian considered that. “Then perhaps you expected too little.”
The remark earned him a quiet laugh from Morgan.
Cassian heard the same sound leave him, unguarded and brief, and was surprised by how natural it felt.
They reached the far edge of the green and paused, the noise of the market muffled by the distance.
Levi rolled his shoulders, as though easing out of long-held tension. “This was worthwhile,” he said.
“Yes,” Cassian agreed without thinking.
The word came easily. So did the sense of belonging that followed. He had not considered how he was perceived. He had simply been present.
As they turned back toward the road, Cassian felt the familiar weight settle once more, though it did not press as heavily as before.
He walked beside them now rather than behind them, his steps matching theirs without conscious effort.
Yet, as the house came into view, a different awareness stirred.
He wondered why this ease deserted him the moment he saw his wife, and why the part of himself that had spoken freely in the village could not seem to follow him home to Adelaide.
The house felt different, with so many voices in it. Cassian became aware of it the moment they crossed the threshold—the echo of laughter from the drawing room, the subtle disorder of cloaks and gloves handed off to servants. It was not unpleasant, though it unsettled him all the same.
They entered together, and the conversation paused only briefly before resuming at once.
Emma was seated near the window, her posture elegant but unguarded, one hand resting idly on the arm of her chair as she spoke with Adelaide.
Dorothy stood nearby, examining a small figurine on the mantel with quiet interest, while Cecilia and Beatrice occupied the sofa opposite, deep in animated conversation.
“You survived,” Beatrice declared as Owen approached. “I am impressed.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Only mildly,” she quipped. “I had wagered that you would return with at least one unnecessary purchase.”
“Ah, then it would seem you won,” he drawled, presenting her with the figurine he had purchased.
Morgan moved to Dorothy’s side without comment, leaning in to murmur something that made her smile. Levi crossed the room to Emma, who reached for his hand without looking, their exchange effortless and quiet.
Cassian lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
Adelaide noticed it first. Her gaze found him, as though she had been waiting. He looked at her, uncertain what expression he wore, only that he felt oddly exposed.
“You found the village agreeable, I hope,” she offered.
“Yes,” Cassian replied. “It was a most pleasant outing.”
The conversation flowed around him, drawing him in despite himself. Cecilia asked him about the estate, about the history of the house, questions delivered with genuine interest rather than obligation, and he answered each one without fear that she was interested in gossip.
At one point, Adelaide moved closer, close enough that he could feel her warmth against his side.
“You seem less burdened than this morning,” she noted quietly.
“I do. My head is clearer.”
She studied him, searching his face for something he could not quite identify. Whatever she found there seemed to satisfy her, for her expression softened.
“Well,” he announced, “it is long past time for drinks.”
“That is the first sensible suggestion you have made all day,” Owen teased.
As servants were summoned and glasses served, Cassian found himself seated among them rather than apart from them. The conversation turned lively, anecdotes traded freely, laughter rising and falling with ease. At one point, he laughed aloud before he could stop himself.
The sound startled him.
Adelaide turned toward him at once. For a brief moment, she looked as though she might speak, then thought better of it. Instead, she gave a small smile and looked away.
Cassian watched her for longer than he should have. He felt the old restraint tug at him again, subtle but insistent, urging him back behind familiar walls.
But this time, he did not retreat at once. And though he said nothing of it, a quiet thought took root and refused to be dismissed: somewhere between the village and this crowded room, he had loosened his grip, and Adelaide, more than anyone, had noticed it.