Chapter 4 #2
Sitting back in his chair, her father drummed his fingers on the table.
“I see. Tressingham wants to speak with you alone for a moment, but I will have your maid sit in with you—” her father’s eyes landed on Cassian, “—so no more impropriety happens, you understand. Even though that horse has bolted from the barn already.”
“Where?”
Moving to the lavish sitting room five minutes later, Cassian noted that the place was done up in shades of ivory and gold. Clearly, the lady of the house had taken great pains to make the room exquisite, but Cassian could not care less about it.
He waited for Cecilia to take a seat in the loveseat while he took the single chair. Cecilia’s buttoned-up dress looked like a nun’s habit to him; the thing went up to her neck, but the soft silver of her gown suited her ethereal beauty perfectly.
She sat rigidly. “What do you want to speak about?”
Her maid rested a tray of tea, coffee, and tarts on the table, made her cup and his, then took a seat in the corner. He wanted to needle her, but reminded himself that her life had been upended, so he needed to tread with care. A woman’s emotions were not to be trifled with.
“About our marriage,” he started.
“It is not going to be a marriage,” she said stiffly. “It is only a mockery of one.”
“And here I hoped you’d found me a delight after the kiss,” he drawled sarcastically. “Believe me, I harbor no delusions that you will have any affection for me.”
She scowled back at him. “You are right about that. I’d swim the channel before I marry you of my own volition.”
“Is marriage to me such a terrible thought?” His lips flickered.
She glared at him. “Yes, it is. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.”
“Spare me the clichés,” he sighed. “I have apologized for the jest I played on you years ago repeatedly. But you still have not accepted, and all that is behind us now,” he fished a document out of his jacket and laid it on the table.
“The document your father has read and so eloquently relayed to you had everything in this one… except this passage—” his forefinger tapped on a paragraph.
Taking it, she read over the passage, “It is agreed with due regard to the proprieties of society and the dictates of reason, that upon the sixty-first day of the marriage between Lady Cecilia Hartwick, daughter of Duke Ashford, and Cassian Fitzroy, Duke of Tressingham, shall hence be annulled, returning each party to their former standing, unencumbered by the bonds of matrimony.
With solemnity and goodwill, no claim shall be laid upon property nor purse, and neither shall seek redress or recompense beyond what is already agreed in financial obligations.
In this understanding, both parties do pledge their honor, that the dissolution shall proceed with civility, and no quarrel shall arise from the end of that which was entered into with mutual accord. ”
Her bow lips slipped open in shock, and Cassian wondered what they would look like swollen after a passionate kiss. Shaking the thought from his head, he reached for the coffee.
“The assets ready to be transferred to your name will stay yours,” Cassian said. “The pin money, the properties, whatever you buy during the marriage, be it an elephant or five phaetons, they are yours. And your dowry will be kept in an account that is yours. I have no need for it.”
She dropped the paper. “Why did you not show this agreement to my father?”
“Because I need out of this marriage, and I suspect your father would oppose this, vehemently,” he replied. “I am sure your indifference to me will make these sixty days just fly by.”
Dropping the paper, Cecilia asked, “Why are you doing this? Why are you being so… unlike you?”
“Accusing me of being unlike me would predicate that you knew me at all,” Cassian remarked.
Her eyes narrowed. “I do know you. You are an immature rakehell with nary a care in the world, who jumps out of widow’s windows, who believes women are your playthings as you hop from one bed to the other, and everything is a joke to you.”
His unfaltering smile irked her ever more. “What a succinct evaluation. You have missed a few things, though.”
“Like what?” she challenged.
“And what would be the fun of spilling all my secrets now?” he said nonchalantly. “You do have sixty days to find them after all.”
She swallowed her irritation and then looked to the agreement again. “This means that I will be free to marry after?”
“Unencumbered and with a business under your belt,” he nodded, angling his head. “Are you desirous of marrying Whitmore again?”
“No,” Cecilia answered regrettably. “He… has moved on.”
“To Ophelia Hawthorne, I have no doubt.”
Her cheeks warmed as she muttered, “The rock on her finger could eclipse the moon.”
He threw his head back and laughed. The rich, deep sound reached all the way to her toes, curling them. Licking her lips, Cecilia asked, “You are laughing at me then.”
Chuckling, he cocked a boot on his other knee and dropped his cheek on his fist. “No, sweetheart, I am not laughing at you. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when the penny dropped for you that Whitmore does not want a wife.
“The man preens more than a new spring butterfly. Fret not, dear Cecilia. By next year, Miss Hawthorne will be in the background of another Diamond.”
Pursing her lips, she tapped the contract. “Do I sign it now?”
He waved his hand; his satisfied smile made an unexpected thrum of emotion inside her chest. “As long as you do it before the sixty-day date, that will be fine with me.”
As the maid went for the pen, Cassian pulled out a velvet box and opened it. In the center, upon a pillow of white silk, was a flawless ruby the size of her thumbnail. Three smaller diamonds bookended the blood-red gem. It was utterly breathtaking and purposefully so.
“I know it’s not what you wanted, but….” He gestured to her hand, “…may I?”
Numbly, she offered her hand. When he took it, he felt a shiver coast through her limb. He rubbed his thumb over her wrist, intentionally toying with her to get some sort of reaction from her.
Before he slid the ring on, he murmured, “Do you remember the night we met?”
She opened her mouth—then clamped it shut. A very telling move that telegraphed to him that yes, she did remember that night, and yes, she did remember the ripple of attraction she’d felt—but felt she would be damned if she dared to admit it.
“Faintly,” she said tightly.
Holding her eyes, he let his gaze smolder, and the more pink stained her cheeks, the more satisfaction flared in his chest.
That is what I thought.
His smirk made her eyes shift away. “Hold onto that memory.”
Softly, he slid the ring on and tilted her hand to meet the light. “That looks nice, don’t you think?”
“It is splendid.” Her voice wasn’t quite steady. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
Cassian kept his mischievous grin. “What if we abscond to Gretna?”
“I know what to say to that one,” Cecilia said, eyes narrowing, “Not on your life.”