Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The Duke was absent the day before the wedding.
Cassandra was simply told that he was otherwise occupied, and that he would be working that day. She did not mind so much, for she did not know, in all honesty, what she would say to him even if he was there. Even so, when she arrived at breakfast she caught herself searching the room for him.
“I have someone for you,” the Dowager said brightly when she saw her. “I was hoping you might come to greet them with me, given the circumstances?”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
Cassandra did not trust the woman, but she allowed herself to hope all the same that it was to be for her benefit.
She wondered if a friend had been invited, or if someone was to arrive to assist in final wedding preparations.
She would never have considered that the Dowager suddenly approved of her, for she knew it would never be the case, but there had to be kindness in the lady somewhere.
Except, when she stepped out into the front, she was proven wrong in an instant.
Lashton was unmistakable. His hair was longer than she recalled, but it was undeniably him.
She felt the hairs on her arms stand on end, and her heart began to race.
It was not, however, the wonderful way that she felt when it was the Duke causing it.
Instead, it felt as though every ounce of her being was urging her to run away.
“Lady Cassandra,” he greeted. “It is so good to see you.”
“And she is most happy to see you, too,” the Dowager replied for her. “Shall we take tea? I have had it prepared in the drawing room.”
“Actually,” Cassandra said suddenly, not thinking, “I was wondering if I may speak with you, Your Grace? I must ask you about– about the wedding tomorrow.”
“Everything is in hand.”
“Yes, but I wanted to ask your advice. You have… you have such great taste, and I would not want to disregard your wants.”
That seemed to satisfy the older woman, who glanced between her and Lord Lashton before sighing.
“Very well, but it cannot take long. I have plans.”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Was her plan not to join them for tea? Regardless, Lashton was taken to the drawing room to wait, and Cassandra took the Dowager to a smaller room, one that offered privacy.
“I know what you are doing,” Cassandra said firmly.
“I do not know what you are referring to. I thought you might appreciate some closure before you–”
“Do not treat me as though I am a fool.”
Her tone was colder than it had ever been before, but she could not help it. The lady before her had hated her from the moment they had met one another, and she had tried to hide from it but she no longer could.
“Do you think that I have not noticed?” Cassandra continued.
“You look at me as though I am a stain on your household, and when you dare to speak with me it is as though I am all but five. I may not be the brilliant and wealthy young lady you expected for your grandson, but I am hardly a disgrace. Even so, you have had objections to this match from the beginning. My only question is why, and I believe I have a right to know.”
The Dowager paced the floor for a moment, not looking in her direction, and then she sighed, followed by a small laugh. Cassandra wished that she understood the woman, but she never had.
“If you do not understand why I do not want you here,” she said at last, “then it only proves that I am right to treat you as I have. I cannot allow my only grandson to marry someone so simple. The truth, Lady Cassandra, is that you are not good enough for him. That is not entirely your fault, of course; you could have been the very best lady that you could be, and I would still have refused to comply. You are not the sort of lady that can become a duchess. It is not for girls of your sort.”
“Of my sort? I am a lady, and a member of the nobility just as much as you. No, I may not be from the most illustrious family of the ton, and I may not be a meek and mild debutante from an extraordinary background, but that does not make me unworthy of–”
“A duchess would never speak the way that you do. You do not know your place, yet another reason why this life is not yours to have. I have seen the way you quarrel with him, and if you think that I would ever allow that under my roof then you are very much mistaken. My dear grandson shall have a wife that cares about him, not one that tears him apart.”
Cassandra thought back to the time she had shared with him and wondered if that was what everyone else saw.
They had had their differences, to be certain, but she had never considered that those around them thought there was any hatred there.
She did not hate the man, and if she were honest with herself she never had.
He challenged her, and he made her question herself, but in his absence she noted that that was precisely what she had needed.
If she had the match that the Dowager was describing, one where neither partner questioned the other, then she would have been bored within a matter of days. His innate ability to make her question her actions was one of the traits that she loved most about him.
The word startled her, but she tried not to show it.
“I do not tear him apart,” she argued. “Do you know what does that, Your Grace? Having his every desire refused, only to be replaced by whatever it is that you think is better for him. You have never once stopped to wonder what was truly best for him. You simply remember an agreement that was made years ago and keep to it, without considering whether or not it is right.”
“How dare you?” she snapped. “My son was an intelligent man, and he knew what was best for this family. He would only have made a decision if it was the right one, and I refuse to believe that you could possibly know better than him.”
“And yet, he has decided to marry me. Why can you not see that this is what he wants?”
“Because you are the exception to the rule. I know my son. I know that he is not the sort of man to be misled and guided, but you are not like those other ladies that simper. You have done something to him, and I may not know what, but I know it was something, and you will never get away with it.”
“Is that what you think?” Cassandra asked, almost laughing.
“Do you truly think that I am so determined to be a duchess that I would ensnare him somehow? I shall speak very plainly to you, Your Grace. I do not need to marry your son in order to be happy, and do you know what? I think that is precisely why he took a liking to me to begin with.”
“He–”
“And you cannot stand that, can you? You cannot fathom that he might have made a decision for himself, and that no matter how improper you are in your efforts to sway him, you have failed. It is for the best that you let us both be, and stop with this nonsense. He has made his decision.”
For a moment, the Dowager said nothing. Her eyes were wide, and her hands were balled into such tight fists that her knuckles were turning white, but she did not say anything.
Cassandra held her gaze with as sharp an eye as she could fathom, for though she did not want to appear frightened, she was.
“Do you honestly want this marriage?”
Cassandra did not know what to say to that. The truth was that she did, but that was not for the reason that the Dowager thought, and she did not know how to explain it.
“It is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. You wish to marry my grandson, to sire the heir to my family name, and I have a right to expect you to want to be part of the marriage. Not only that, but you act as though I am awful for being wary of you, but if you truly were happy then my opinion would not change anything, and if you did not want the match then you would have left the arrangement by now. So tell me, why are you here?”
“I– I shall have you know that I do not care at all what you think. If I did, I would have said as much by now. I may not understand why you hate me, but–”
“I would be more than happy to tell you, if you wish. The truth, Lady Cassandra, is that you are useless. You are not to the standard of a duchess, and you enjoy it. You have made every effort in society to be precisely what a gentleman does not want, and in that case you have succeeded, but what you have forgotten is that gentlemen have mothers, and you have ruined yourself in their eyes too.”
“That is hardly fair.”
But the Dowager had raised a hand up to her, silencing her at once.
“Not only will I make every effort for you to not marry my grandson, but you will soon also find that you cannot marry anyone at all. If you wish to believe that I have a vendetta against you, then I will not convince you otherwise. Frankly speaking, I have little interest in doing so. I have made my thoughts known, and you will not change my mind. You are not good enough, not for my son, and not for any man.”
And, in spite of that being precisely what Cassandra had always wanted for herself, it made her heart ache.
She had been convinced for years that she wanted nothing more than to be undesirable in order to keep the gentlemen away, but she had found one that she would have rather liked to spend her life with, if she had to.
And she had ruined it for herself.
“Very well,” she replied quietly. “I will not try to convince you, for you seem to be set in your ways. You can want another wife for your grandson all you like, but you seem to forget your place every bit as much as I do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” the Dowager asked, laughing at the very thought of it.
“You are not a duke. You are a dowager, and therefore you have no control. You can try to influence the Duke, but he has made his choice, and that choice was made without any care for your feelings. You matter as much as I do, Your Grace.”
She turned before another word could be said.
She felt cruel saying it, for she knew that the Dowager had suffered, but there was only so much that she could take before she had to say something in return.
It was not in her nature to be unkind, and she did not relish what she had done, but she hoped that somewhere along the way, it made a difference.
She doubted it, however.
The hallway was cold, and the air was harsh against her flushed cheeks, which she noticed were damp as she pressed the back of her hand to them.
She had never felt so low in her life, even after so many years of trying to ruin herself.
It was strange, for it was precisely how she had wanted to be perceived, but she no longer wanted it.
She wished that she was like the Dowager’s precious Lady Sylvia; the beautiful daughter of a duke, elegant and graceful and talented in ways that Cassandra could only have dreamed of being.
“Cassandra?”
She turned sharply to see Lashton standing there, and at once her hairs stood on end.
“Do not call me that,” she whispered.
“My apologies, but you look so terribly unhappy.”
He came toward her, reaching out and holding her arms, and though her instinct was to struggle and pull away she could not. She was frozen, exhausted from her conversation and wishing that she was anywhere else but there.
“I am perfectly fine, my lord.”
“But you are not. Come now, Lady Cassandra. We all know that you are unhappy, and that you do not want this marriage. You can pretend to be pleased with it all that you like, but I know you.”
“You do not know me! You do not know me at all, no matter how much you might like to pretend that you do. Leave me alone.”
“So that you can prepare for the sham wedding tomorrow?” he asked, his grip on her tightening as he leaned down.
His lips brushed her ear, and her skin began to crawl. She did not want to be there. She did not want to listen to his sly words and suffer his disgusting demeanor. She wanted to leave, to board a carriage and forget that all of her troubles existed.
“You know,” he whispered, “I could save you from this arrangement. All that is needed is one person to walk through that door, and you are compromised.”
“I would rather be ruined.”
“Very well, that may also be arranged if you wish. Frankly speaking, I do not care how you feel. I am the only man to have ever wanted you, Lady Cassandra. Do not forget that.”
But the Duke wanted her, Cassandra knew it. If he did not, he would not have gone to such lengths to have her. He would have abandoned her just as he had Lady Sylvia, would he not?
Her eyes fell on the door, and she tried in vain to steady her breathing. Lashton was vile, but he was correct; if they were seen, she would have no choice. When the door opened, she hoped that she had imagined it, and that her eyes were playing tricks on her from her panic.
But she had not.
The Duke stormed toward them, his face like thunder. At last, Lashton released her with a grin on his face, as though there could not have been a better person to see them.
“Your Grace,” he said in mock surprise, “I–”
But the Duke had already shoved him to the floor, taking Cassandra by the shoulders in a deceptively tender way.
She waited for it, the barrage of insults that he had waiting for her.
He would accuse her of being everything grandmother thought of her.
What else, she considered, could he possibly have thought?
“Are you all right?” he asked firmly.
“Your Grace, I am so sorry. It is not what you think, I–”
“I did not ask what happened. I asked if you are all right.”
“I am,” she replied simply.
“Good. Has this rotten excuse for a man hurt you in any way?”
“He may have left some marks on my arms, but other than that I am well, especially now that you are here.”
“Good,” he repeated, calling out to a maid. “Take Lady Cassandra to her room for a moment, if you will. I am going to see my grandmother, and I expect her to be watched over in my absence.”
He did not leave any room for Cassandra to argue.
She left in an instant and was taken to her room, the maid waiting by the door outside.
She, meanwhile, paced the floor and wondered what he was speaking to his grandmother about.
She had not known where he was that day, and for all she knew he could well have been trying to find a way to cancel the wedding at such short notice.
There had been a time when she liked the person that she was, and she did not doubt herself, but that had changed. She had begun to question everything, and that did not end with herself.