Chapter 9
“To a degree, yes, I am!” Cassian shouted back, lifting the hammer again. “Go back in the house, Cecilia. I know you are a busybody and a termagant, but this has nothing to do with you, and I am not fond of repeating myself.”
Scowling, Cecilia trudged back to the house, passing by a few grounds men whom she nodded to. Inside, she muttered, “If that fool is decided on playing God and tempting fate, so be it. He cannot say I did not warn him.”
Heading to her rooms, she wanted to see how far the butler and his men had gotten, only to be happily surprised that the shelves were all stocked with books. All of them were dusted and arranged by subject.
“There are a lot of law books here…” she murmured. “That is in keeping. Dukes are supposed to know the law and use it to benefit the people of our country….”
As she assessed the books, she found something odd: the abundance of astronomy books and maps about constellations. It seemed incongruous with Cassian’s personality, didn’t it?
Replacing the books, she turned around the bare space and tried to imagine how to decorate the place.
“A set of couches there…” She pointed to a part of the room, “…my writing desk there, a rug in the middle, and a tea table. Maybe a cupboard over there to hold cushions and blankets in case I stay here reading for the night. I may add some painting on the walls.”
Trailing her fingers over one of the walls, she wondered if it made sense to redo the wallpaper as well. The faded blue did not sit well with her.
Tapping her chin, she wondered what was best, a portrait or a landscape. She did leave the room with a tentative plan in place and, taking her pencil, found a scrap of paper and jotted her ideas down.
Cecilia found herself drifting to the library again and right to the seat where she saw Cassian still slamming on the roof of the outbuilding.
The man is as mad as any hatter.
Nervously, she watched on as he decimated the roof, bit by bit.
Gritting her teeth, she returned her attention to the book— when a horrendous crack had her head flying up. The roof collapsed, and Cassian swung the hammer over his shoulder with a satisfied look on his face.
He and another footman rolled a tarp over the gaping hole and tied it down. When he finally descended the ladder, she realized her chest was burning because she had not taken a breath.
That man might be the death of me!
Collecting her things, she went to her rooms to take a nap, unhappy and a bit perturbed at how things had gone.
Sleep did not come easy.
Tossing this way and turning the other way, Cecilia realized that she wouldn’t be in this predicament if she hadn’t had her head in the clouds, dreaming of a prince in golden armor who rode on a white horse.
There are no princes anymore, just that devil with dark grey eyes…
Later that evening, when Abigail woke her to attend dinner with Cassian, she’d changed into a dark blue gown and had her hair braided down her back. This was to be a simple dinner, nothing to take out the silks and satins for.
“We are not using the dining room?” she asked Abigail.
“No, Your Grace,” the maid said as she walked to a smaller room. “His Grace says there is no reason to use a ten-seater table when it is just him and prefers to use this one.”
“Thank you, Abigail.”
The small oval table near a window was set, and so was the sideboard, while Cassian was absent.
She took a seat and asked the butler, “Is he going to attend our inaugural dinner as a wedded couple or leave me to my lonesome?” She shook out the serviette. “Maybe he slammed that hammer into his feet and toppled from that roof.”
“Should I be touched that you are worried for my well-being?” Cassian walked into the room, utterly undressed, as he wore only a silk robe and trousers.
The vee of his robe, dipping down to his sternum, revealed the corded column of his throat, an intriguing glimpse of his muscled chest.
Cecilia found herself distracted. His garment, as indecent for a meal as it was, molded to the breadth of his shoulders and showcased his whipcord-lean frame. The casual disarray of his unruly, damp hair gave him the air of a pirate rising from the water.
“Do you always dress like this when eating with company?” she asked archly.
He sat across from her. “Seeing as I usually eat alone, be grateful that I did not come here as naked as I sleep.”
Her pulse leaped into a beating drum under her breastbone. His knowing smirk made his eyes crinkle at the corners. As infuriating as he was, he was still undeniably and maddeningly handsome.
“Asparagus soup, my lady?”
Embarrassed by her thoughts, she nodded to the footman. Gadz, she was supposed to be immune to Cassian’s charms, not falling for them.
She picked up her spoon and took a few bites. “Do you care to tell me why you decided to risk life and limb on that roof?”
“Remember my rule to not enquire about my business?” He cocked a brow.
“You said meddle, not enquire,” she returned easily. “The two terms are not synonymous.”
Cassian swirled his wine. “Touché. If you must know, it is a project I intend to use to occupy my time during the sixty days before the annulment. While you have your distractions, I will have mine.
“And as I said before, that is a room you should not step into. Consider it my private domain.”
“I… see,” she replied, while finishing her bowl. “You wouldn’t be happening to be recreating Bluebeard’s antics inside that building, would you?”
He laughed, “Such macabre thoughts of me. I see how I stand in your eyes.”
She cocked her head. “What meaning does that place have for you?”
Instead of answering, he cut into the delectable quail doused in truffle sauce, and the longer the silence went on, the more she realized he had no intention of giving her a reply.
“I will be furnishing the rooms I have to reflect the needs I am going to have,” she announced, while cutting into the seasoned asparagus. “I hope you do not mind the expense.”
He waved. “I am sure the allowance you have will cover whatever trinket or bauble you want.”
“A full suite of furniture is not a simple ornament,” she pressed, frowning. “It is an investment.”
“I suppose you will need it when you move into your townhome after the annulment,” he shrugged. “Carry on then.”
He is hellbent on stymying me at every turn, isn’t he?
“Where are you going to go after the marriage is annulled?” she asked.
When his silence washed over her again, she sighed. “Will you tell me how you take your coffee?”
“Black as midnight and hotter than the lava that flowed over Pompeii,” he answered. “With a dash of whisky.”
Casting through her mind for another topic of conversation, she asked, “Are you annoyed that I stopped you from destroying those books?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “No. Those old tomes belonged to my father and brother, and I doubt they have any knowledge pertinent to this time and era inside them. They are more like sepulchers instead of fountains of knowledge. But do what you will.”
She closed her utensils and delicately wiped her mouth. “Books always have a place in society, no matter how long they were written. Even obsolete, they give one the insight into the mindset of those who came before us. Think of what would have happened if they had not preserved Homer’s Odyssey—”
“A fairytale.”
“Or Ovid’s Metamorphosis—”
“A glorification of a tyrant.”
“Or Romeo and Juliet—”
“Misguided love and mutual destruction.”
Cecilia felt her composure fraying, “—so mankind could have those tales as proof to bolster their own strength. To become as brave as the heroes they read about.”
“And for women to constantly fantasize about the white knight riding in to save them,” the derision in his voice scraped over her skin.
“It is honestly better for mankind to stay grounded in reality and not try to emulate a figment of imagination. All stories are a ludicrous mix of broken dreams and insane fantasy.”
“I am surprised to hear that from you,” Cecilia admitted.
“Really?” Cassian rolled his neck. “And why is that?”
“You are always so blithe and Devil-May-Care with the whole Ton that it looked like your whole existence was nothing but fun-loving and one jest after another. I never suspected you were this…” she blinked, “…pessimistic.”
“The word you were looking for is realistic,” he said while leaning into his chair. “How much do you know about astrology?”
“Virtually nothing,” she answered.
“I was born on January fourteenth, a sign ruled by Saturn principally and Mercury, introducing an element of adaptability and communication skills. They say it’s a sign balancing the traditional Capricorn need for structure with a thirst for knowledge and exploration.”
He shrugged, “Many say it is malarky and superstitious nonsense, but I find I am more of myself on a ship, on horseback, or on a caravan traveling elsewhere away from England.”
It was not hard for her to interpret what he meant. “You are planning to leave the moment the sixty days are over.”
“The second my solicitor places the annulment document in my hands,” he amended, reaching for his wine. “I do not remember if I’ve told you before, but the night you kissed me was the very night before I was set to sail off to Greece—permanently.”
She dropped her utensils and gaped at him. “Why are you willing to leave your homeland behind?”
“I feel strangled by the rules and unspoken directives of the Ton,” he explained.
“Being an aristocrat is more of a noose around my neck than a luxury people think it is. Don’t misunderstand me, I appreciate the life my family has afforded me, but I am not myself when I am constantly in the eye of the ton. ”
She was confused. “So, your response to being judged by the ton was to act out some of the most scandalous acts the ton has ever seen… so you can be judged by the ton further? How does that follow?”
His grin was criminally wicked. “It does not, but I enjoy giving old women conniptions and seeing young Misses blush to the roots of their hair when I wink at them.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
Cassian shrugged, “I have been called worse.”
I know. By me, no doubt.
“So, have you considered what you will do with those old books you rescued from the firepit?” he asked.
“They are in place, and I plan to go through them to find what I can use to make a lending library for children or donate some to the orphanages or children’s homes around here.” She paused. “Are there children’s homes around here?”
He gave her a flat look, “No,” he drawled. “All the children in the township are slaving away in the rivers and mines to pay off their parents’ debts to me.”
Wiping her mouth, Cecilia shook her head. “All right, that is enough for me tonight.”
He slumped—rather artfully—into the arm of his chair and lifted his wine. “You are bowing out after four rounds? Why, Cecilia, I thought you were one of the few who would battle all fifty.”
“That’s the difference between men and women. You men prefer to fight with fists and rage. I prefer to fight with my mind and things I understand,” she explained. “At the moment, I am at a loss.”
“I thought you knew me,” Cassian pouted.
I thought so too, but now I realize the face you give to the ton is not the one you wear here.
“So did I,” she said. “I, however, find myself reevaluating everything I do know about you. Until I have more ammunition, I will sequester myself and rearm.”
“I will be waiting,” Cassian lifted his wineglass in a mock salute.