Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“Ido find myself wondering…” The door to Caspian’s study swung open, and his cousin stalked in as if she owned the room, the house, and the entire world. “What on earth are you doing up here, alone, when your dear wife is downstairs wishing for your company? Very strange.”
Caspian looked up from his work, sure to curl his upper lip with distaste, before lowering his head again. “I am busy, Penelope. So, whatever this is, make it quick.”
“I will make it exactly as I want,” Penelope said as she took the seat across from him. “Quick? Slow? My time is my own to use as I see fit.”
“And what of my time?” he said sharply. “Or does that not concern you?”
“I will say it again. What concerns me, Caspian, is arriving at your home, expecting to spend the morning with you and your dear wife, only to learn that you are hiding. While I might have assumed you were hiding from me, you were unaware that I intended to see you. Thus, I can only assume it is your wife whom you are hiding from.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“She did not have to. Anyone with two eyes can see how you cower from her.”
Caspian snapped his head up and snarled at his cousin.
“I am not cowering from anyone. Although you might not understand such things, I have work to do, Penelope. And because I have work, I cannot waste my time playing games or going on walks or doing whatever else it is that you seem to think so important.”
“And what of Timothy? I suppose he does not deserve your attention either?”
“Which is why I married Arabella in the first place,” he said. “She is with him so that I do not have to be.” His words came out cruel and harsh, and he winced with shame. “I… I will see to Timothy later. I am not avoiding him.”
“Timothy is not who I am worried about,” his cousin said.
“And while I do not doubt that you do wish to improve your relationship with the boy, might you consider killing two birds with a single stone? Right now, Arabella and Timothy are downstairs playing cards. Join them. Show them that you care.”
“Is that why you are here?” he sneered, even if it was more for him than for his cousin. “To judge me? Go ahead if it makes you feel better.”
“It makes me feel nothing,” she said, softening her tone so the judgment he previously felt faded. “Remember, I am the one who wanted you to marry in the first place, Caspian. A part of that was for Timothy, I will not deny it. But a larger part was for you.”
He scoffed. “It is a good thing that you have so much time, Penelope. Because to spend it on worrying about me is to waste it.”
She said nothing for a moment.
Sitting across from him, Penelope watched Caspian with a sense that she saw right through him. He tried to glare. He tried to scowl. He tried to look as if his anger was directed only at her intrusion. But the longer that she watched him, the more the fight in Caspian faded.
She was older than he was, and with the father that Caspian had, Penelope had always been the one who looked out for him. For that reason, she knew him better than most, so she saw through his efforts without needing to try.
So it was that Caspian slumped in his chair, the fight completely gone, shame settling over him like an old friend…
“What happened last night, Caspian?” she asked, her voice suddenly soft and filled with concern. “Truly, when I saw you stand up to Lord Carlisle, I thought that I was imagining things.”
Caspian shrugged. “I did as any husband would do. Last evening was about putting on airs of a happy marriage with Arabella, and if I had not stepped in, people would have wondered why.”
“No,” she said. “It was more than that. I saw how you watched them dance together, as I saw the fury take you before you confronted him. You did not do so for appearances, but because you thought that you must.”
“And so what if I did?”
“Truly, when I arrived here an hour ago, do you know what I expected? No…” She furrowed her brow.
“Not expected but hoped for. Having seen the way that you and Arabella left together, I dared to dream that I would arrive to find you together, Timothy at your heels, enjoying not just the day but the company of one another. I dared to picture happiness found in these walls, as I do not think I have ever seen.”
“I had no idea you were so idealistic, cousin,” Caspian said bitterly. “What have you been reading lately?”
“Hopeful,” she corrected. “That is what I am. Alas, I arrived here to find your wife alone and you in hiding. Which leads me to wonder, to ask for a second time, what happened?”
“Nothing happened…” He fidgeted and looked away. “You are reading into what is not there.”
“And if I were to tell you how utterly bereaved your wife appears this morning? If I were to tell you that she looks like a lost puppy, wondering what she has done wrong, what might you say?”
He scoffed. “I would say that you do not know my wife.”
“She is upset, Caspian,” Penelope pushed on him. “And I know that it has everything to do with you.” Then she looked right at him, unblinking, daring him to argue with her.
Caspian might have liked to have done so. He could have very well committed to the lie that she was imagining things—or better, he might have told her that it did not matter. His marriage was for one purpose only, a purpose that was working, so what did he care about how his wife felt?
But I do care… And that is the problem.
Caspian had almost given in to his urges last evening.
It was the words Arabella had said to him, questioning his authority, that triggered the need inside him to be a protector, the type who looked after those he cared about.
That, paired with what had happened at the ball, had caused Caspian to lose complete control over himself.
And for a few moments, he had not minded at all.
Her taste had lit a fire inside of him. The way her body had reacted, her moans, had helped to build that fire. He had owned her completely, free to do whatever he wanted, to have her completely and utterly as he had secretly yearned for now for so long.
He could still feel her lips on his. He could still feel her body trembling as he slipped his fingers inside of her. And he could still sense the way that she broke apart, giving herself to him.
But then she called herself his wife, and that had snapped Caspian out of the moment.
He had started, stumbled, and was overwhelmed with self-loathing and disgust at what he had almost done.
It was not merely pleasure he wanted, but intimacy, and if he kept pleasing and submitting to his wife, there would be no way back.
That is what I fear the most.
“She has no cause to be upset,” Caspian said, unable to look at his cousin. “She knew what this marriage was. The only thing it could ever be.”
“Things change,” Penelope pressed gently. “And that is a good thing.”
“It is not,” he said as the sickness inside of him grew. “I do not want it to change. What I want… The only thing…” He clenched his jaw. “Arabella might be upset with me now, but she will come to realize that it is for the best.”
“And if she does not?”
“She will,” he said firmly. “And if you are so worried about my wife, perhaps you might tell her? Ease her worries with a healthy dose of the truth. Tell her why I am the way that I am, and why she is better off avoiding me.”
“Caspian…” Penelope sighed with sadness. “You are not your father. You never have been. And should you allow yourself to care for another, to love, you will realize that.”
“And what if you are wrong?” he hissed at her. “I cannot take that chance. How can you ask me to open myself to someone, when you know at the same time that if I do that, I will only end up hurting them?”
“I do not know that.”
“You do,” he said with a grimace of shame.
“The path you want me to walk down leads to pain and suffering. Arabella might be upset with me now, but she will hurt all the more if I ignore what I know.” He forced himself to look at his cousin.
“I am not a good person, Penelope, and pretending otherwise does Arabella no good.”
Penelope looked at him with pity. “You forget, I knew your father too. Perhaps better than you did. And do you know what you and he do not have in common? He did not care what he was, nor did he waste time thinking about the pain that he brought to others. That is who he was. It was not marriage that did it, and it never was.”
Caspian said nothing.
This was not the first time that he and Penelope had had this argument, and he doubted that it would be the last. There was nothing that she could say to change his mind, because if there was, he would have done so a long time ago.
Although even as Penelope reminded him of this, images of Arabella passed through his mind.
This might not have been the first time they had argued about this exact thing, but it was the first time there had been someone in Caspian’s life who made him stop and consider if he was being honest with himself, or merely stubborn.
Could I be a better person than my father was? Could Arabella make me want to be that person…
“That you are so worried in the first place is proof that you are not your father,” Penelope said as she stood up and pushed back her chair.
“And I just pray, Caspian, that you realize this. Not for Arabella. Not even for Timothy. But for you. Despite what you believe, you deserve to be happy, and while it might sound absurd to your ears, I truly do think that Arabella might just be the person who can make you that.”
Again, he said nothing, looking away as his cousin left the room.
Her words, however, did not leave with her. And as Caspian tried to return to his work, those words echoed around his head, sounding a little too tempting and hopeful so that for the first time ever, he wanted to believe them.
Just as he wanted to change…