Chapter Twelve #2
“Very well. Lovely to meet you, Mr. Evans.” Mrs. Mackenzie grabbed her bag by the door. “I shall set to work on some supper, then.”
“Would you like some help?” Cassandra offered on a whim, startled by the thought of being left to her own devices as everyone else worked around her.
“Madam, tha—” The older woman cleared her throat. “That is kind of you to offer, but I can manage it.”
Cassandra’s countenance fell.
“But if you wish to keep me company, I would not mind a bit of chatter.” Mrs. Mackenzie winked. “Come along, then.”
Relief filled her. She glanced over her shoulder at Reuben, who watched with an impassive expression. When she smiled, he returned it, and she glimpsed the man beneath the servant’s facade.
While Cassandra was upset at their intimate moment being interrupted, she knew he would make it up to her. Her stomach rumbled in protest as they stepped into the kitchen. Perhaps she was hungry for food, after all.
“Well, then.” Mrs. Mackenzie patted a stool near the counter, where she set the bags. “Come, sit a while.” Her lilting accent drew Cassandra closer.
“Would you care for a dram of whisky?” Mrs. Mackenzie asked with a knowing smile. “Guaranteed to dispel the chill on these cold nights.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you.”
Mrs. Mackenzie poured a healthy dram into a glass and set it on the counter beside Cassandra, then she poured herself some whisky. “To your health, madam.”
Lifting the glass in salute, Cassandra acknowledged the toast and drank deeply. The strong whisky tasted of woodsmoke and cherries. Delicious. It warmed her through, and she sighed.
“Now, tell me true.” Mrs. Mackenzie unpacked the bag, laying vegetables on the table with ease as she gave her full attention to Cassandra. “What brings Your Grace to the Scottish Highlands on such short notice?”
“W—I have some questions about my late husband’s estate.” Cassandra held her ground, noting it would be best to be honest with the kind older woman. “Certain debts have come to light, and I wish to ensure that my son is properly protected.”
“Ah, I see.” Mrs. Mackenzie nodded. “You’ve naught to worry about. It has all been managed according to his wishes.”
“My late husband?” Cassandra asked, confused.
“No, madam.” The older woman beamed. “Your son, the duke. He visited on several occasions over the last year to discuss the care of the house and grounds. Bless me, he is a proper gentleman, and quite unlike his father. God rest his soul.”
Cassandra blinked twice before she actually understood. “My son came to Scotland on multiple occasions?”
“Aye, madam. He stayed for a fortnight the first time to ensure the manor was well-maintained and able to be prepared at a moment’s notice.”
“I see.” Cassandra tapped her finger on the edge of her glass, uncertain what this new information could possibly mean. Perhaps she needed to sit with her son and have a deeper conversation in which they both revealed some hidden truths.
“If you don’t mind my saying so, madam…” Mrs. Mackenzie leaned closer. “I found it quite surprising that he chose not to sell it. Laird Blackwood offered him a king’s ransom for the manor, far above what it was worth.”
“Is that so?” Cassandra finished her whisky. It seemed some of the answers she sought were not in Scotland, but in London with her son.
James had kept part of his life shrouded from view, but it seemed her son was also of the same mentality. That gave her pause. Perhaps Mr. Oh and Reuben had been right to worry about Phillip.
Everyone was keeping secrets, and Cassandra was tired of remaining in the dark.
*
Reuben cursed the unfortunate timing of the Mackenzies’ arrival. While he had been surprised to find the manor dark and vacant when they had arrived, he’d relished the idea of having the lodge—and Cassandra—all to himself.
Mr. Mackenzie seemed eager to work, and Reuben volunteered his services in any way that would give him an opportunity to clear the desire simmering in his blood.
He followed the older man out into the cold, highland air and retrieved firewood to last through the night.
By the time they’d finished, a sheen of sweat slickened his skin, leaving him exhausted and desperate for a bath.
When they hung their coats in the entryway, Mrs. Mackenzie appeared. “Supper is on the table,” she said with a smile, wiping her hands on her apron. “Her Grace has requested your presence, Mr. Evans.”
“Would you prepare a bath for Her Grace to enjoy after her meal?” Reuben asked with a warm smile.
Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie nodded and disappeared down the hall.
Reuben sent up a silent prayer of thanks. His stomach protested the lack of sustenance as he proceeded into the dining room.
Cassandra sat at the head of the table with her hands folded in her lap. Her eyes brightened at the sight of him, but she said nothing.
“You have settled in quickly,” Reuben said, sitting in the empty chair beside Cassandra.
“Mrs. Mackenzie has been quite accommodating.” She picked up her spoon and stirred her soup.
“Is that so?” Reuben inhaled the savory scent of the smoked meat and herbs rising from the steaming bowl before him.
Cassandra nodded before taking a bite.
Reuben tasted the stew and moaned with delight. A hunter’s stew made with previously smoked meats and root vegetables. He tore off a piece of the sourdough bread and dunked it in the rich broth, savoring every bite.
“This is quite delicious,” Cassandra murmured. “I doubt I could have made anything quite this hearty and flavorful.”
“All it takes is practice.” Reuben regarded her for a long moment, noting the somber silence that surrounded them. “Is something amiss, Your Grace?”
Her heavy sigh confirmed his suspicion. Something had transpired in his absence.
“Mrs. Mackenzie informed me that my son visited the estate several times this past year,” she said thoughtfully. “It is his property now, and he can do with it as he pleases.”
“Yet it bothers you that he did not inform you of this?” Reuben deduced.
“It should not, but I cannot help but think that my son is hiding something by not being forthright in his intentions with the hunting lodge.” She pushed the stew around the bowl.
“Why do you say that?”
“Mrs. Mackenzie said Phillip was offered a significant sum to purchase this lodge and the land surrounding it.” Cassandra’s brow furrowed.
“The estate possesses no significant importance. It was not part of the original dukedom holdings. James’s father purchased it from a desperate laird years ago when Phillip was still a child. ”
“And His Grace refused to sell it?” Unease twisted in Reuben’s gut. “Why? Such a sum could possibly repay the debts owed to Mr. Oh and give the duke an opportunity to invest the money in a more lucrative manner.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Cassandra took another tentative bite before pushing aside the stew.
“I must speak with my son directly. This family has been plagued with far too many secrets and lies for it to continue. If I do not confront him on them, this unease and tension between all of us will persist.”
Guilt stabbed him. While he had been honest with Cassandra about nearly everything, there were still a few details he’d omitted.
Secrets that haunted him with every breath and could ruin every possibility of happiness—not just for him, but for her.
The brazen truth would destroy Cassandra.
Such a revelation would be dangerous for them both.
Even so, she deserved to know everything.
But now was not the moment for such a confession.
“Why would Phillip lie?” she asked, her voice cracking. “When I asked him to join me at the country estate for the summer, he told me he was traveling to the Continent. Venice, he told me.” She scoffed. “Led astray by a mother’s affection. I was a fool.”
“You are not a fool.” Reuben took her hand and held it firmly in his. “Your son is a man driven by desires and needs. Perhaps he chose not to tell you because he did not wish to upset you.”
“That has worked out splendidly.” Cassandra scoffed. “He is the duke, and he can do as he pleases. But I am still his mother.” She frowned, the action marring her lovely face. “I endured far worse than he can imagine. I am stronger than he believes.”
“You are the strongest woman I have ever met.” Reuben kissed the back of her hand. “Perhaps it is time you told him.”
“Tell him what?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Everything,” he replied, his tone gentle and sympathetic. “You cannot bear the burden of your husband’s actions alone. His Grace deserves to know the extent of it. Only then will he understand the debt Simon holds and be able to assume responsibility for it.”
“And what if it drives us apart?” she asked in a near whisper. “I cannot bear the thought of losing my son.”
“It may be painful to hear, and it may take time for him to process such a startling revelation. But it will work out in the end.” The irony of the parallel of his words to his own situation was not lost on him.
He bit back the sting of his own conscience, knowing there was always that possibility she would not be as forgiving as he imagined.
“Perhaps you are right.” Cassandra rose from her seat. “Perhaps I am overwrought from our journey and need some rest.”
Reuben pushed aside his empty bowl and stood. “Is there anything else you require this evening, madam?”
“Are you not joining me?” She closed the gap between them and brushed her fingers across his jaw. “I was hoping to finish what we had begun earlier.”
The husky invitation lingered heavily in the air. Reuben swallowed hard, searching for any reason he might have not to indulge her request.
“Do you think that wise, madam?”
“The Mackenzies live in a small cottage on the grounds.” She encircled her arm around his neck and leaned into him. The soft press of her curves against his body left him painfully hard. “We have the house to ourselves, Reuben.”