Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
“Heavens,” Cassian breathed.
He stood alone in his quiet workshop after his grandmother’s departure. The shaving curls from his attempt at woodworking lay scattered about him like discarded fragments of thought.
In his hand, he held the small carving he had not meant to make. The slender, curved, and unmistakable laurel leaf. He stared at it for a long, frozen moment, then his gaze drifted to the chisel set resting on the bench beside him.
The one Isabella had gifted him when he had saved her sister.
He had not touched it since he received it from Michael. He had not known what the gift meant at the time or why she’d sent it, so he left them untouched.
He brushed his fingers over the wooden handles.
She’d gifted him even before they defined their relationship because that was the kind of person his wife was.
She was thoughtful and selfless. She had no problem expressing her feelings, and if he was being genuine, she’d been expressing her feelings for him since the day the chisel gift came.
A slow breath escaped him, ragged and uneven. He felt as though the past two weeks had been spent drowning, and he had only just broken the surface.
What am I doing?
She had told him she was not afraid. She had looked up at him with trembling hands and honest eyes and said she was not afraid, and he had refused to believe her. He had chosen the darker path, the one he was familiar with. The one he thought he deserved.
He had hurt her, and for what? For the false comfort of solitude? For the old wounds that screamed he was better off alone?
Cassian exhaled sharply and set the laurel leaf aside. Enough.
Even if he was undeserving of forgiveness, even if she never wanted to look at him again, he owed her at least an apology. The kind he should have given that very night. He owed her the truth, not the retreat of a coward.
With newfound determination, he rose from his workbench so quickly his chair scraped the ground, and he called for Michael as he marched into the main house.
“Your Grace?” Michael appeared in the doorway of his chambers, startled to see Cassian fully upright and seemingly determined.
“I need to dress. Quickly. And fetch the carriage.”
Michael blinked, then nodded and hurried off.
Cassian did not allow himself time to think because if he did, if he hesitated for even a breath, his old fears might drag him back down. And he was finished letting fear rule him.
Tonight, he would go to her, he would face what he had broken, and he would try, God help him, to make it right.
Isabella’s entire body stilled a moment, and in the next, she turned her attention back on the latch of the door, pushing and pulling against the doorknob, as though the action would magically make the door that was locked from outside the room open.
It was foolish of her to think that the last she would see of Lord Falchester was at Lady Darby’s winter ball. She’d thought he’d learned his lesson and retreated in shame, but how wrong she was.
“Open the door,” she ordered, fighting to keep her voice calm.
“My, how commanding. But no.” His smile curved sharply. “Your husband interrupted our conversation the last time and battered me mercilessly while you stood there and watched.”
She fisted her hands.
“I stood there and watched? You seemed to have lost your entire sense. Perhaps, did my husband beat out what was left of it? Or did you lose it a while ago?”
Lord Falchester chuckled darkly.
“I’ve always admired your bravery, but in this moment, it shall bring you no merit. You are entirely under my mercy if you have not realized.”
Yes, indeed, she was, but Isabella knew she would rather jump over a cliff than cater to the likes of Lord Falchester, though she did note that the man bordered on insanity, and she would do well to tread lightly.
“You are far suited at an infirmary to check on your mind, Lord Falchester.”
“To check on my mind,” he echoed softly, taking another step.
“You speak as though it is not you who has put me in this position. Had you done as you should’ve, smiled brightly and taken my hand when I offered it, remained my wife with your dowry in my possession, things would’ve been greatly different.
But worry not, I fully intend to return everything to its rightful place. ”
Her heart pounded. This man truly sought her hand because she had a hefty dowry attached to her name. She had known quite a number of gentlemen coveted her dowry, but none as bold as Lord Falchester. Her hands trembled, but she held her ground. “Your words do not frighten me.”
“They are not intended to, my dear. Your being here is all that is needed. If you are caught twice in a compromising situation with the same person, what do you think will happen?” He leaned down, so close she could smell the wine on his breath.
“I shall tell you. Your marriage to the Duke of Everthorne will become null and void, and you shall fall from that high position you sit as Duchess, but I shall care for you greatly.”
“You will not speak to me this way. Now open the door.”
Lord Falchester’s hand shot out in an attempt to catch her wrist like last time, but Isabella jerked back, folding her arms.
“If you scream,” he hissed, “you will destroy your own reputation. I have been ousted, and I have nothing to lose.”
Her stomach tightened. “Open this door.”
But he only shook his head, smirking dangerously at her.
“I saw you first,” he murmured. “Before your duke snatched you up. I saw your fire, your spirit. You belong with a man who sees you. Not one whose legitimacy to the duchy is being questioned.”
His words felt like a knife twisting deep inside her, but she would not bother to exchange words with him.
“Call for this door to be opened and let me go. Do you think you shall be safe from the consequences of your actions if you’re caught?”
“Oh no,” Falchester whispered. “But the only consequence should be your marriage to me and your dowry in my coffers.”
Lord Falchester laughed at his own expense, wiggling his brows at her, and Isabella’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something that would create an opportunity for a way out.
“I will never marry you. Over my dead body!” she declared, and as though on cue, the door broke open.
No, the door did not simply break open; it exploded inward. Lord Falchester staggered back as the wood slammed into the wall behind him, and Isabella’s breath caught as Cassian stepped inside.
Her husband seemed like he was carved from unrestrained fury. Not wild or reckless but cold and contained. Every muscle drawn tight. Every breath trembling with control.
“Step,” Cassian said, his voice low and shaking with suppressed violence, “away from my wife.”
Falchester paled. “Y–Your Grace, this is…”
Cassian advanced, each step steady, lethal. “You put your hands on her again after my warning?”
Lord Falchester’s throat bobbed. “I–I only meant…”
Cassian seized him by the collar, lifting him off his feet. Falchester’s shoes scraped uselessly against the floor.
“This will be the last time you touch her,” Cassian said in a voice of pure ice, “or even are in the same space as her.”
Isabella had never heard him speak with such devastating calm. The danger was sharper for its restraint. Terrifyingly different from the violence he displayed the last time. If anything, he seemed more dangerous than then.
“Cassian,” she whispered, stepping closer.
His jaw clenched. The muscle ticked violently, once, twice, then he let Falchester drop, though not gently. The man collapsed in a heap, gasping like a landed fish.
Cassian didn’t punch him. Didn’t strike him. He only pressed a heavy boot to Falchester’s shoulder, pinning him effortlessly to the ground, where he lay groaning.
“You will follow these footmen,” he ordered as servants spilled into the room, summoned by the crash. “You will be escorted off the property and reported. And you will not speak to or about my wife again. Not even her name, you understand?”
Falchester could only nod before being dragged away.
Cassian finally turned to Isabella, and her world stopped.
“You came,” she whispered.
His chest rose on a harsh breath. “I should have come sooner.”
“How are you here, though?” Isabella asked, raising a brow.
“I arrived, and you were nowhere to be found. Your sister said you went to attend to grandma, who called for you, saying she was ill. I knew then that something was entirely wrong and came in search for you,”
The tears that had pooled at the base of Isabella’s eyes dropped freely in that moment, and she didn’t know which of them moved first. Only that suddenly, they were close, so close she could feel his breath tremble against her forehead.
“Can we leave here?” she asked amidst their embrace, and Cassian nodded, leading her out of the room and back to the ballroom where everyone watched with equal parts confusion and curiosity.
Tristan found Lady Kendrick locked in a nearby room minutes later, and not long after that, the couple loaded into their carriage, neither having the energy to remain at the function.
Isabella’s joy, however, was that the guests truly didn’t know what transpired, and the charity ball had neared its end when the commotion began. Isabella had requested to ride back with Lady Kendrick, who still seemed shaken.
When they arrived back at Everthorne townhouse, she retired at once, exhausted due to being manhandled at such a delicate age, but Isabella knew it was also because Cassian had just arrived and was marching into the house.
Isabella had wanted to retire to her chambers as well, but she felt she should at least relay her gratitude to Cassian.