Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Cassian was pacing in his study, tension rolling through him in waves. Had he made the right decision in asking for her hand in marriage? The idea had come to him so quickly in the moment that he’d barely had time to think it through.
Tristan lounged against a bookcase with an expression that suggested he was enjoying himself far too much.
“So,” Tristan said casually, “I hear congratulations are in order.” He continued to smirk after arriving only a few moments prior.
Cassian shot him a murderous glare. Why was it that Tristan always seemed to show up at the worst possible times? He was supposed to be Cassian’s best friend, but he acted more like a thorn in his side than anything else.
“You’re engaged,” Tristan continued, undeterred. “To Lady Isabella Hunton. The ton is in absolute hysterics. I am only mad that you left your own ball last night without telling me. One would think that you would want to tell share the news with your oldest friend.”
“I did what needed to be done.” Cassian scrubbed a hand over his jaw, moving his head from side to side until his neck clicked.
“Yes, I think I can surmise what you are getting at without being too indelicate,” Tristan agreed. “And now, tell me why you look as though you’re awaiting death.” He quirked an eyebrow in question.
Cassian glared at the floor. “I did not intend for it to happen this way. But I wasn’t going to let her be ruined, not because of me,” He growled.
“She could be good for you, Cassian.” Tristan studied him, all amusement fading as his face grew more serious.
“There is no ‘good’ for me.” A sharp pang stabbed at his heart as Cassian thought of the world that Isabella would be exposed to by being his wife.
She does not deserve this.
“Rubbish,” Tristan said lightly and waved the idea away. “She challenges you. She tends to your grandmother. She keeps your attention better than any other woman has managed in years.”
Cassian’s jaw tightened, memories flashing in his mind: Isabella’s flushed cheeks, her breathless voice, and the way she had whispered his name.
She had all but said that she had wanted him to do it, even if she had not said those exact words.
He had fought against the urge to take her, but his desire for her had won in the end.
He shut his eyes briefly, attempting to ebb the flow of desire.
“There is a chance for happiness here, old friend.” Tristan interrupted his thoughts, providing a much-needed distraction.
But Cassian said nothing because happiness was not something he had ever considered for himself.
Not since he could not escape the past, but Isabella made everything dangerously different.
“And what do I tell her when she asks about the scars on my back? Should I tell her the tale of the stolen duke whose father cared so little for him that he allowed his enemy to take him captive?” Cassian clenched his jaw in anger and turned his back on Tristan before stalking over to the window.
Placing one hand beside the frozen glass, he looked out over the wet streets of London just as a fine sheet of snow began to fall from the sky, blanketing everything in white. “How can any woman love a man who is known as the stolen duke?” He asked bitterly, refusing to look back.
“You will have to tell her, Cassian. What happened was not your fault. It is as you say, it was your father who allowed you to be taken…”
“And I was too weak to stop it!” Cassian spun around, glaring at his friend as his anger flared. “The feud may have been my father’s doing, but I was too weak and pathetic to stop myself from being taken in the dead of night!”
“You were fifteen, Cassian! For Heaven’s sake. How were you to fight off a band of men on your own? You hold yourself to such a high standard, but even you would not expect such an impressive feat from someone so young.” Tristan shouted back, refusing to back down.
Pain seared his vision as Cassian shut his eyes. The reason he avoided speaking of the matter was now ripped through his chest like a skilled blade.
He never came for me.
The memory of his father leaving him to the mercy of his captors galloped a painful path through his chest and mind.
He had hoped that his father would come for him, but that hope had quickly died after several months of waiting.
He had been beaten, tortured, and exposed to far more hatred than anyone in his position had ever deserved.
Fighting back had been useless, earning him more beatings for his troubles.
The scars on his back were a dark reminder of that.
“You are not your father, Cassian. You have proved that time and time again. He was a bastard that deserved the death he got.” Tristan’s voice broke through the memory, pulling him back to the present.
“But what if a part of him remained in me? I am his son, after all. His blood runs through my veins…” He looked up with more vulnerability than he had cared to show.
The question had plagued him for years, even before his father had passed.
What if he, too, was capable of ruining the family as his father had done?
Crossing his arms over his chest, Tristan heaved a deep sigh that seemed to come from deep within his chest. “Your father was a drunk. I know you are well aware of the fact that he drank himself to death upon your return to London at eighteen, but he was one before that. I watched him drink for years during your absence. Your grandmother and I begged him to help us look for you, but he allowed himself to drown his sorrows instead of facing them.”
“What is your paint in reminding me of all this?” Cassian snapped, needing the conversation to be over. His father’s passing was not a memory that he relished.
“My point is, you returned and took over his title. You stepped up and helped rebuild with your grandmother. You pieced the duchy back together with your own hands. A man who took after your father would not have done any of that.”
Something in his chest stilled as Cassian looked at his friend.
Am I truly that different?
He thought of Isabella’s sister in the greenhouse and how his first inclination had been to help her. The greenhouse in question had fallen into disrepair after his father had caught him playing in there.
“How dare you defy me and break property that does not belong to you?” His father had turned him around and given him the beating of his life for breaking a window by accident.
It was only a few short years after that incident that his father’s rival had seen fit to kidnap him as revenge. He had spent three years as a captive in the Highlands of Scotland before escaping. He had not returned him immediately but had sought a different life for himself.
It was then that he found work as a carpenter, excelling at his craft.
He had been content, not happy, but content with his life, when his granddaughter had eventually tracked him down and asked him to return to London. Begrudgingly, he had accepted, but he still wished at times that he had stayed hidden in that sleepy little village.
“You are not your father, Cassian,” Tristan repeated. “Your father would not have agreed to marry a lady to save her reputation.”
“Is that a better reason than love?” Cassian snapped again, feeling the sting of his past still lingering. “Lady Isabella deserves someone who will love and adore her.”
“And you think that you do not love her?” Tristan asked bluntly.
The question threw Cassian off track as he stopped, staring blankly at Tristan for what seemed like forever.
Do I love her?
He had never been in love before, and the notion seemed utterly absurd to him.
Was love not something that foolish young women dreamed of before realizing how silly the notion had been?
His father had not loved his mother. At the end of the day, he had never known any couple who had claimed to love each other and made it work.
The silence dragged on for a little too long until Tristan spoke again.
“I have watched you over the past few weeks, Cassian. That woman has consumed every ounce of your being. Day and night. You have not been able to think of anything other than her since she founded that little club, along with your grandmother. Tell me if I am wrong?”
Cassian clenched his jaw.
Shaking his head, Tristan chuckled. “Do you know why I asked her to dance at that ball?” He quirked his head to the side in a question.
“Because your morals are looser than that of a prostitute?”
Throwing his head back, Tristan laughed from the pit of his stomach before being able to control himself again.
“I will give you that one, Your Grace. I have bedded more women than even I can count. But do you know what all of that experience has taught me? It taught me that only a certain kind of woman will allow a man like me to bed her. I could already see from a mile away that Lady Isabella was not one of those women. She humors men out of politeness to avoid making a scene, but she will not allow just any man to get close enough to her even for a kiss.”
Cassian’s brow creased into a deep frown. “Then why did you pursue her?”
“I did not pursue her. I simply asked her to dance. The point I was trying to make is that you cared. Why would you care if she danced with me, or any other lord, for that matter, if you do not care for her? You have allowed her to crawl under your skin, and possibly even deeper than that.” Tristan finished with a sigh as if he were attempting to reach Cassian, a skill that he simply was not grasping.
“Think about what I have said. I do not think that you asked Lady Isabella to marry you simply because you wished to save her reputation.” He shot Cassian a knowing look.
“Isn’t there someone that you need to be?” Cassian growled at him.
Tristan allowed the corner of his mouth to hook into a smile.
“As a matter of fact, there is. I only wished to come and offer my congratulations. I shall take my leave now, but I do hope that you will stop being such a curmudgeon. As you so eloquently put earlier, Lady Isabella deserves better.” He chuckled to himself before leaving the room.
Annoyed by the insinuations that Tristan had been making, Cassian turned toward the window, looking forward to an afternoon of silence where he would be able to put his thoughts in order.
“I am glad that you are here.” His grandmother’s voice cut through the air.
“What is it now?” Cassian whirled around.
Stopping in her tracks, his grandmother placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I am not the one who got you into this mess, Cassian, but I am here to help you out of it. You may want to rethink the way that you speak to me.”
Holding his tongue, Cassian seethed with anger. His grandmother had not forced him onto the balcony with Lady Isabella, but she had been the one who had brought the woman into his life with her blasted little club.
“Was there something that you needed?” he asked stiffly.
Lowering her hand from her hips, she pursed her lips.
“As a matter of fact, there is. I have just come from one of my friends, and I regret to inform you that you cannot wait for the banns to be read. We must go to the Queen at once and request a special license for the two of you to be married. All of London seems to think that you compromised Lady Isabella last night.”
“And what business is it of theirs?” He growled angrily.
Raising her hands in surrender, his grandmother scowled at him.
“Peace, Cassian, I will not remind you again that this was not my doing. Nor was it my intention. I cannot lie and say that I am not thrilled with the marriage, because I am. Lady Isabella is one in a million, and I cannot think of anyone else in London whom I would rather have you marry. But you hurried things along and made it the business of the ton. You should not have been alone with her.”
“So, you admit that you purposefully thrust her at me?” He demanded angrily.
His grandmother scoffed. “I will not warn you again, Cassian. Do not blame me for your folly. I may have brought her into her life, but I harbored no such ill intentions. This matter is entirely your doing. Now, before you continue with your ridiculous accusations, we must go and fetch Lady Isabella and her stepmother at once. It just so happens that a close friend of mine has the ear of the queen. If we play our cards correctly, we may be able to acquire a special license and permission.”
“Right now?” He froze, dreading the prospect of seeing her so soon again.
“Is that a problem?” She raised an eyebrow and spoke in a stern voice that let Cassian know she would not be entertaining any kind of argument.
“What would it not be better to allow Lady Isabella some time to come to terms with the engagement?” He placed his hands behind his back and lifted his chin.
She held back for a moment, hovering as if the conversation were keeping her back from doing what needed to be done.
“Had you courted her like a proper gentleman, I would be inclined to agree, but since everyone’s hands have been forced, I see no need to wait.
Unless there is a reason that you do not wish to see her again on such short notice? ”
Taking a deep breath, he composed himself. There was no use in arguing with his grandmother. Years of living with her had taught him that.
“No, there is no need to wait. We shall go at once.” His heart began to thrum furiously at the thought of seeing Isabella again.
His grandmother smiled at him. “Very well, I shall be waiting for you in the carriage.” She turned to leave, but paused on her way out. “And Cassian…”
“Yes,” he snapped, his patience beginning to wear thin.
“You must remember that to obtain a special license, you and Isabella must appear utterly in love. There cannot be even a hint of disparity between the two of you. The queen has an eye for these things; she dotes on young love but can spot a ruse a mile away. If you have not yet convinced yourself that you are in love with Lady Isabella, then I suggest you do so as soon as possible.” She turned and left, leaving Cassian to soak in her words.
Love.
There was that word again. Why was every person in his life so obsessed with it? The question did not even matter anymore as he gritted his teeth.
Whether he believed in it or not, he needed to convince the queen that he did. He needed to act like a fool, convince the world of his feelings, and take one for the family. It seemed like a great deal of effort for someone who had annoyed him from the start.
But was that not how most romances start?