Chapter 32
Adelaide noticed the change in Cassian the moment he returned.
She had been watching him since he returned from the village, careful not to let her gaze linger too long, though it required effort.
There was something different in the way he held himself, a willingness to be present rather than withdraw. He spoke when spoken to, but he also listened differently, as though no longer braced for interruption or judgment.
The afternoon passed pleasantly. Tea was shared, and the chairs were pulled closer together than usual, conversation flowing easily between subjects of little consequence.
Adelaide found herself laughing more than she had in a long time, though part of her remained fixated on Cassian. Her husband had always captured her attention, but after everything that had happened, she found him more alluring than ever.
When he excused himself, summoned away by his steward, Adelaide felt his absence at once. She waited until the sound of his footsteps had faded before speaking.
“He is different,” she murmured.
Emma glanced up from her teacup. “Your husband?”
“Yes,” Adelaide replied. “Since this morning.”
“Different how?”
Adelaide hesitated, searching for the right words. She knew her friends would not judge her, but she still did not want to express herself incorrectly.
“Less contained, as though something has eased.”
Cecilia leaned back in her chair, looking at her knowingly. “That is quite the change.”
“Indeed.” Adelaide nodded. “And I do not understand it. Everything has been so sudden.”
“Well, when did you first notice?”
“When he returned,” Adelaide answered. “Before that, it was as though he never saw me, as though he were never truly here. Now he is, and there is no denying it.”
Emma set her cup aside, and all four ladies turned to look at her kindly.
Adelaide knew that their marriages had not had a smooth start, but most of the time, it felt as though they all had perfect lives, while she could never quite attain anything resembling them.
“Did anything happen while he was gone?”
“I-I do not know. He did not speak of it. He had only just returned when you all arrived. In any case, he has not told me anything of note.”
“Regardless, that does not mean he has nothing to say,” Beatrice said lightly. “Men tend to find it easier to discuss such matters among themselves than with their wives.”
Adelaide frowned. “I do not like that answer. I would prefer for him to come to me about such things.”
Cecilia smiled at her. “Then consider this: perhaps he needed to be reminded of who he is, and it took seeing other gentlemen for him to recognize it.”
“So you believe that reminder came from them?”
Dorothy shook her head. “No.”
All eyes turned to her.
Adelaide tilted her head to the side. Dorothy was the quieter one, but when she did have something to say, she made it known.
“I believe it came from you,” she continued. “Or rather, from losing you for one single day.”
“That cannot be true. That is far too little time, and—”
“You underestimate the power you hold as his wife. In the face of difficulty, you have remained, but you were not passive. You have questioned him when others would have retreated. You have not accepted his distance as permanence. That must have meant something to him.”
Adelaide looked down at her hands. She had told her friends about Cassian’s outburst and everything that had followed, and they had all looked at each other as though it were a good sign.
“I have only ever wanted honesty from him.”
“And in wanting it,” Cecilia said gently, “you have asked him to confront himself. He did not like it, but given some time, he will have found clarity. It would seem that is what he needed.”
The thought settled heavily.
Adelaide had not considered herself capable of such influence. She had believed herself merely persistent, perhaps even inconvenient. But even then, she had not thought that any good could come of it.
“I do not mean to change him,” she said quietly.
“Of course you do,” Cecilia replied, grinning. “All younger men can benefit from a few changes, and he is no exception. It is not bad for you to guide him in that direction.”
Across the room, Adelaide could hear footsteps again. Cassian’s voice came, and something in her chest tightened in response.
If her friends were right, then the ease she had glimpsed in him was not going to leave him.
It was precisely what she had wanted since their wedding day.
“So,” Cassian announced when he entered, “I have decided on an activity for us to partake in today.”
Everyone turned to him and saw that he was smiling.
Adelaide saw the faintest spark of mischief in his eyes, and though she did not know for certain where it had come from, she liked it immensely.
“We shall play pall mall,” he continued. “The weather is pleasant, and I have not played it in a long time.”
Cloaks were fetched, gloves retrieved, and within minutes, they had made their way onto the lawn, where the long grass had been trimmed and the iron hoops already stood in place. Cassian had known that they would all gladly engage, and that was where he had been.
They each took a mallet, and the game began. Without making any particular effort, Adelaide found herself beside her husband, and there was a subtle change between them that she liked a great deal.
“So, you have not played in a long time,” she noted.
He glanced at her, then back at the mallet. “Not in years. I thought it best that I chose something I had not played in a long time, for it would be unfair of me to suggest a game I would excel at.”
“Then I shall thank you for the advantage.”
The game began. Owen struck first and sent his ball veering wildly off course, earning groans and laughter in equal measure. Cecilia followed with careful precision, while Leonard offered unsolicited commentary that she ignored entirely.
Adelaide waited for her turn, watching the way Cassian studied the field. He seemed more at ease than earlier, his attention fixed outward for a change. When his turn came, he adjusted his stance, hesitated, then struck. The ball rolled forward cleanly, passing through the first hoop with ease.
Adelaide laughed despite herself, and it surprised her how easily the sound came. They moved down the lawn together, the order shifting with each successful strike. At one point, Adelaide’s ball came to rest directly in front of Cassian’s.
“You may knock it aside,” he said, stepping back.
“I am aware,” she replied. “And it is most tempting, but I will not.”
She struck at an angle, sending her ball arcing neatly around his. Cassian watched the motion closely, admiration flickering across his face before he looked away.
As the game progressed, the others drifted ahead and behind, conversation splintering into pairs and trios. Adelaide found herself walking beside her husband more often than not.
“You enjoy this, yes?” she asked after a while.
He considered. “I do. I had not realized it until now.”
“What changed?”
He did not answer at once. But when he did, his voice was quieter. “I stopped measuring myself by my mother’s impossible standards, I suppose.”
The honesty caught her off guard.
At the final hoop, the competition narrowed. Adelaide, Cassian, and Beatrice stood closest, their balls clustered together. Beatrice struck first and missed narrowly, her groan theatrical.
Adelaide stepped forward next. She adjusted her grip, aware of Cassian’s attention, then struck. The ball passed through cleanly and came to rest just beyond.
Cassian went last. For a moment, he did not move. He looked at the ball, then at the hoop, then at Adelaide. Something unspoken passed between them, fragile and uncertain.
He struck.
The ball clipped the edge of the hoop and rolled through, coming to rest beside hers. A small, satisfied sound escaped him before he could stop it, and the others applauded.
“You have won,” Adelaide declared.
“We have won,” he corrected her.
The game at an end, they returned to the house.
Adelaide and Cassian lingered behind for a moment longer, the lawn quiet around them.
Cassian rested the mallet against his shoulder. “You played well.”
“So did you,” Adelaide replied.
They stood there, neither quite ready to move.
For the first time since their wedding, Adelaide thought she glimpsed not the man he believed himself to be, but the one he might yet allow her to know.
The evening was equally as enjoyable, and then the morning followed.
The house remained full, but it had softened, conversation flowing. Adelaide found Cecilia in the small sitting room overlooking the garden the day before they were supposed to leave. Her friend was sitting near the window with her embroidery, though her attention seemed to be elsewhere.
“May I join you?” Adelaide asked.
Cecilia looked up and smiled. “Of course.”
Adelaide took the chair opposite her and folded her hands in her lap. For a moment, she said nothing, and Cecilia did not rush her.
“I do not know what to make of him,” she blurted out.
Cecilia set her embroidery aside. “Cassian?”
“Yes.” Adelaide hesitated. “He is… gentler, more present, and I find myself waiting for the moment it will disappear.”
“Because you expect it to.”
“Of course I do. It is what happens every time I let myself believe that he will change. It might not always happen in the same manner, but it happens nonetheless.”
“Then your question is not whether the change is real, but whether it is lasting.”
“It is,” Adelaide sighed. “It is, and I do not know if I can trust it.”
Cecilia folded her hands together. “That is fine. You see, trust does not simply arrive fully formed. It is built over time, and you have that.”
Adelaide looked away, toward the garden. It was true, but she struggled to believe it all the same.
“I am afraid of believing in something that was never meant to remain.”
Cecilia softened in a way Adelaide had never seen. “What you are seeing now is not performance. Men, after all, are very poor at sustaining those.”