Chapter 5
Ewan swept his daughter up into his arms, pressing his face into her hair and twirling her around. She laughed delightedly, and when he set her back down, she was beaming.
“Papa, I missed you!” she said. “You were gone a full two days!”
Ewan laughed and ruffled the top of her head. “Two days is not long, surely?”
She gave him a pouty look. “Yes, it is. Especially since you missed our guests! Uncle Christopher’s bride is here!”
Her eyes slid to Cassandra then before going wide. “Oh… What happened, Papa?”
“Lady Cassandra went for a swim,” Ewan said, smiling at his daughter before turning back around to Cassandra, who had slid from the horse and was now glaring at him with a mixture of shock and irritation.
“Why did you not tell me who you are?” she hissed at him, clearly trying to speak quietly enough that Annabelle wouldn’t hear. “You let me ramble on about my upcoming marriage, and the whole time, you knew I was speaking about your brother?”
“Not the whole time,” Ewan said. “I was not sure at first of your identity. But then when you said that you were staying at Calder Castle, with the intention of being married…”
She put her hands on her hips. “Yes, that was the perfect moment to mention that you are the Duke of Calder, and that it is your brother I shall be marrying.”
Ewan flushed slightly, embarrassment creeping up through him.
In truth, he wasn’t entirely certain why he had kept his identity a secret.
He had been curious, he supposed, about the woman who would be marrying Christopher, and eager to hear her thoughts about his brother before having to come clean to her about the truth of his disappearance.
But it wasn’t only that.
Some part of him had not wanted her to know, quite yet, that he would be her future brother-in-law.
But why?
All he knew was that there had been something delightfully playful about it, even mischievous. And Ewan could not remember the last time he was mischievous.
“You are right,” he said at last, as the awkward silence stretched between them. “I should have told you. I hope you will accept my apology.”
Lady Cassandra did not say anything at first, and before she could, Annabelle had stepped forward, her smile shy but also determined.
“Did you go swimming, Lady Cassandra?” she asked. “Can I go swimming with you next time as well? Papa never lets me go…”
“The lochs are far too cold and deep,” Ewan said at once, giving his daughter a stern look. “When you are older, and a stronger swimmer, then I will consider it.”
“Your father is very wise,” Lady Cassandra said, surprising Ewan. She was smiling down at Annabelle, her eyes warm. “The lochs can be quite dangerous. I was very lucky to be rescued from one earlier by a very brave man.”
“Do you mean my father?” Annabelle asked, her eyes widening, and Lady Cassandra laughed.
“Indeed, I do!”
Annabelle’s face lit up. “He is very brave!” she declared. “He is always rescuing people, me most of all.”
“Then you are a very lucky little girl indeed,” Lady Cassandra said.
Her smile was so sincere, so moving, that Ewan felt warmth settle in his chest.
“We should get you inside, Lady Cassandra,” he said. “I do not want you to catch a chill.”
Before anyone could move, the front door closed with a bang, and Ewan looked up to see a middle-aged woman marching across the drive toward them, a hard look on her face.
“Cassandra!” she cried. “What on earth is going on? Why do you look as if you have nearly drowned? Do you have any notion of how indecent you look!”
The woman—whom he would now wager was Lady Pembury—then caught sight of him, and she froze. Her eyes went wide, and she sank into the deepest curtsy he had ever seen.
“Your Grace!” she murmured. “I was not expecting—you were thought to be away for another day or two! Please forgive my daughter, she does not usually appear in public in such a state of undress!”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Ewan said, bowing as well. “Your daughter fell into one of the lochs, and I was fortunate enough to be close by, and was thus able to rescue her.”
“Rescue…?” Lady Pembury’s eyes widened in horror. “But… were you seen?”
It did not escape Ewan that Lady Pembury’s first response was not after the well-being of her daughter, but after appearances.
When he glanced at Lady Cassandra, he saw that her face had hardened, and he wondered if this was always the case with her mother: more worried about propriety than even her daughter’s life.
“Come, Cassandra, we must get you changed and warmed,” her mother said, seizing her by the arm and practically dragging her back toward the house. “We will see you at dinner, Your Grace. In far more formal attire, I assure you.”
And indeed, when Ewan arrived at dinner that evening, it was to find Lady Cassandra and her mother dressed to formal perfection.
In fact, it wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that her mother had insisted that Lady Cassandra dress more formally and demurely than was necessary. She was in a muted dark red dress with a high collar, one simple jeweled necklace, and long white gloves that hid every inch of skin on her arms.
It was as if Lady Pembury had been so shocked by her daughter’s scandalous appearance earlier that she wanted to prove that Lady Cassandra was, in fact, the very paragon of modesty.
It did little, however, to hide her beauty.
In fact, now that she was no longer soaked through and shivering, Lady Cassandra’s beauty was even more striking.
As Ewan watched her covertly from the head of the table, he couldn’t help but notice how her auburn hair seemed to spark like fire in the candlelight, how long and elegant her neck was, how alive with intelligence and curiosity her brown eyes were, and how full and sensual her lips.
He swallowed, then reached for his wine glass, suddenly too aware of himself.
He should absolutely not be noticing the curve of his future sister-in-law’s lips, or the ways her eyes lit up as she spoke to Alaric and Lillian, who were sitting across from her, or the way that Annabelle kept glancing at her with undisguised curiosity.
Alaric had returned that evening from the neighboring estates without any news: Christopher had not been to any of them in the past few weeks. It seemed that he had, indeed, set sail for Amsterdam.
“It is unusual for a child of five to dine with the adults, is it not?” Lady Pembury, who was sitting to Ewan’s right, asked in a carrying voice, the disapproval in her tone evident to all.
“It is,” Ewan said, inclining his head slightly. “But Annabelle is only staying until the end of the first course. And only because we have guests tonight.”
“I think it is very progressive,” Lady Cassandra said, smiling warmly at him and then at his daughter. “After all, Mistress Annabelle is quite grown up, is she not? Already the proper young lady.”
Annabelle beamed. “Do you really think so, Lady Cassandra?” she asked in her small, high voice.
“I do,” Lady Cassandra said, leaning closer and winking at her. “If I were half as ladylike as you are when I was your age, my mother would have been saved a great deal of worry!”
Everyone laughed at this, and Ewan felt admiration swell inside of him. Lady Cassandra was making his daughter feel welcome and included, even when she herself was the newcomer and swimming in uncharted waters.
Lady Pembury, however, seemed less than pleased as she frowned at her daughter.
“A lady should only speak of her accomplishments in public,” she said. “Never her failings.”
“I hardly think it is a failing if a girl of five is not yet ladylike,” Lillian chimed in. “And from what I can see so far, Lady Cassandra grew into the perfect young lady.”
She and Lady Cassandra shared a meaningful smile, and Ewan chanced a glance at Lady Pembury. Her lips were pursed, and he got the distinct impression that she was unhappy about the easy way that her daughter was making friends and allies in this new house against her.
However, she changed the conversation with aplomb.
“And when can we expect your brother, Lord Christopher, to return to Calder Castle, Your Grace?” she asked. “I must admit, we were expecting him to be here already when we arrived.”
An uneasy silence fell over the table, and Ewan had to work hard not to look at Alaric. He was afraid that if he did, he would give everything away.
Instead, he took another sip of wine, buying himself some time to calm the racing of his heart.
“I know, and I do apologize for the change of plans,” Ewan said. He was acutely aware of the fact that everyone in the room was looking at him, that silence had settled over the dining hall. “My brother will be arriving back at Calder Castle shortly.”
There was a long pause as Lady Pembury continued to stare at him expectantly.
At last, when he did not speak again, she prompted, “Shortly, Your Grace? The wedding is supposed to be in a week. My husband will be traveling north in just a few days to join us, as will our friends and family.”
Ewan swallowed. He could not hide the truth any longer, he knew. Slowly, he pulled the napkin from his lap and set it on the table, then rose.
“Perhaps you and Lady Cassandra would join me in my study after dinner?”
Lady Pembury and her daughter exchanged a glance, then Lady Pembury nodded, deciding for them both.
After dinner, neither lady spoke as they followed him down the long, high-ceilinged corridor to his study. Candles flickered in their sconces, casting long shadows on the Persian carpet that lined the hallway, cushioning their footsteps from the flagstones underneath.
As he led the way, Ewan was very aware of the portraits on the walls looking down at him, his ancestors’ disapproval potent.
At last, they reached his study, and he escorted them inside.
The study was warm, a fire lit in the grate that filled the room with heat and the acrid smell of peat.
Here, there was only a portrait of his father on the wall, and this gave him some comfort as he sat down in the leather wingback chair behind his mahogany desk and gestured for the ladies to sit as well.
Lady Pembury did not wait for him to speak.
“What is this about, Your Grace?” she demanded. “Where is Lord Christopher?”
“He is in Amsterdam,” Ewan said without preamble. It was better, he had always found, to be direct. He could have made up an excuse. He could have lied about his brother’s absence, even invented an illness. But looking into Lady Cassandra’s eyes, he knew he could not.
She deserved the truth.
Deserved to know who she was marrying before the vows had been said and the rings exchanged.
If Christopher was even back in time.
“Amsterdam!” Lady Pembury cried, her hand coming to her mouth. “Heaven forbid! But why?”
“At least, I hope he is in Amsterdam,” Ewan continued gravely. “As far as I know, he set sail for the Continent about three weeks ago with the intention of spending some time abroad before his nuptials.”
“Upon my honor!” Lady Pembury gasped. “This is the most extraordinary development I have ever heard! Do you mean to tell me that Lord Christopher has abandoned his bride before his wedding?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Ewan said. “In the letter he sent to me, he said that he had every intention of returning to Scotland for the wedding, only that he wanted to see more of the world before…”
Ewan trailed off, not entirely certain how to phrase this without insulting Lady Cassandra.
The insult, however, was impossible to hide.
“Well, I am glad that Lord Christopher is finding the run-up to his marriage to be a delightful time to amuse himself abroad,” Lady Pembury snarled, sitting up straighter and glaring at him.
“But this insult will not be borne! We are a respectable family, Your Grace! And we will not suffer a jilt of this nature!”
Lady Pembury pulled her fan from her reticule and began to fan herself vigorously. Her face was very red and beginning to turn blotchy.
Lady Cassandra, however, was very still. She had not moved a muscle since he had spoken, and her expression was entirely blank. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that she had not even heard him.
As her mother continued to bluster in fury, Lady Cassandra looked up at him at last. When she spoke, her voice was oddly emotionless.
“What will happen now?” she murmured.
Ewan swallowed. He did not know. For now, all they could do was wait.