Chapter 8
Sometimes we must do things out of duty and responsibility. In order to protect our families.
Every time she closed her eyes, she again heard the duke’s words.
He had been speaking about marrying her. And he had not used words of affection or words of love. He had not said that he respected or liked her. He had not even said that he wanted to marry her.
Instead, he had spoken of duty and responsibility.
As if she was a task that he was forced to accomplish.
As if she was nothing more than an inherited problem, being passed from one brother to the next.
Because that, it appeared, was what was happening. She didn’t yet know why or how. All she knew was that Christopher was gone. The duke had come back from Inverness without him. And she was now willing to wager a great deal that he was never coming back.
As sunlight spilled into the room, she turned over onto her side and stared at the crack in the curtain, where she could just see a glimpse of the Scottish countryside.
What would it be like to marry the duke?
It would mean she would get to stay in the Highlands.
That was a prospect that brought her joy.
But it would also mean marrying a man she did not know.
Not the one who had courted her, who had charmed her, who had given her hope that she might be happy.
But also not the one with a reputation for rakishness, who had run off just weeks before their wedding.
Instead, it would mean marrying the brother with the reputation for distance. But who did, after all, seem honorable.
She remembered the way he had pulled her from the loch, how he had insisted that she ride the horse back to Calder Castle. Those large hands that had held hers, calloused and worn from tending his own fields, from caring for his land.
Something fluttered inside of her, and she sat up very quickly.
She needed to speak with Annabelle. That was the most important thing.
If she were going to even consider marrying the duke, she first had to make sure it was something that would make the child happy.
The last thing she wanted was to try and replace Annabelle’s mother and earn the reputation of the evil stepmother.
Of course, she knew that the person she should speak with was the duke, but the thought of it scared her too much.
She rang for her maid, then dressed quickly. She already knew where she would find Annabelle: The child liked to pay in the secluded sitting room in the West Wing of the house.
And indeed, when she arrived there fifteen minutes later—having skipped breakfast altogether, her stomach too much in knots to even countenance it—it was to find Annabelle putting together a large puzzle on the floor.
She smiled widely when Cassandra came in.
“Lady Cassandra!” she cried. “Will you help me?”
“Of course I will,” Cassandra said, sitting down on the carpet next to the girl. The puzzle was large, with hundreds of pieces, and Annabelle had only just started the border. As Cassandra searched for pieces, she eyed Annabelle. What did she know? And how best to ask?
Fortunately, she didn’t have to.
“Papa came to see me last night after he returned from Inverness,” Annabelle said, as she tried unsuccessfully to fit two pieces together. “He said that you might be my new Mama.”
Cassandra felt as if her mouth had been filled with cotton. She tried to remain calm and focused on the puzzle, but as she lifted up a piece to examine it, her hands shook.
“Is that so?” she murmured. “And what would you think of that?”
“I would be delighted,” the little girl said, as she frowned at the two pieces she could not make connect. “You are very much fun to play with. As much fun as Miss Ashworth!”
“That is very kind of you to say,” Cassandra said, gazing at her in astonishment. Over the last few days, while Cassandra had waited to learn her fate, she had been spending her days playing with Annabelle.
It had been very soothing to be in the presence of a child, someone who was not at all concerned about her matrimonial state. And Annabelle was the sweetest, most precocious child she had ever met.
But she had not thought that meant the girl would want her as a mother.
It was humbling.
Humbling, and a little bit terrifying.
But most of all, it made her feel as if her heart were welling inside of her chest, as if she was going to cry, of happiness.
Was this feeling love?
“And if my father marries you,” the child continued, blissfully unaware of the emotions that were crashing through Cassandra, “that means that I shall have to love you, too!”
Cassandra couldn’t help but laugh at the child’s logic, and she pulled her into her arms.
“My dear, even if your father and I do not marry, you and I will always be close. And you will always stand out as the best playmate I could have hoped for.”
“Do you promise?” Annabelle asked, her voice suddenly small, and Cassandra kissed her forehead.
“Yes, my dear. I promise.”
After that conversation, Cassandra knew she could put off the conversation with the duke no longer. She needed answers. She needed to know what he wanted. Most of all, she needed to be given options about her life, so that she could decide her fate for herself.
She found him out in the gardens, walking slowly along the cobbled path. A nearby willow tree had cast him temporarily in darkness, and he looked every bit the brooding, hulking man she had met at the loch.
At the sounds of her approaching footsteps, the duke turned, and Cassandra felt momentarily winded.
He seemed even taller and broader than usual, his face hard and serious but no less handsome for it as he stared at her with an intensity that made her stomach tie itself into knots.
She approached slowly, but when she was finally standing right in front of him, she held her chin high, defiant. Unafraid.
“What is happening?” she demanded, and she was glad to hear that her voice did not shake. “What did you find in Inverness?”
The duke’s jaw tightened, and she saw a vein throb in his neck.
“My brother is unlikely to return,” he said. His voice was low and gravelly, and she got the impression that he had not used it in some time.
So. There was the truth of it. Christopher had abandoned her.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
“More pressingly, your marriage is supposed to be tomorrow,” the duke continued, “and your reputation is at risk. Not only because of my brother’s waywardness, but because of my own actions.”
It took her a moment to realize what he meant.
“Because of the loch?” she murmured, and he nodded.
“I have risked your reputation,” he said. “And I will not allow my brother’s betrayal to tarnish it any further.” A feeling of unreality washed over her. She knew what he was about to say, but she still felt as if she were dreaming it. “Therefore, if you consent, I will marry you in his stead.”
The world seemed to tilt around her. She tried to breathe, but no air came. All she could do was stare up at him.
He continued, his eyes boring directly into hers.
“I can offer you the protection of my name, my home, and everything that comes with the dukedom. You will be wealthy, respectable, and titled. And toward you, I will be nothing but honorable and decent. But…” he hesitated just a moment, and she felt her heart clench.
“But I must be honest with you. I loved my wife, and when I lost her, I buried the part of me that is capable of feeling such tender emotions again. I never planned to remarry. So while I can offer respect, security, and partnership, I will not pretend that my heart is also on offer. I have nothing left to give.”
A long, pregnant silence filled the space between them.
Cassandra took a deep breath, and to her relief, found that her ability to breathe had returned to her. With it also came reality. This was really happening. And on the one hand, she respected that he was being honest with her about his capacity.
On the other, she could not pretend it did not hurt, to know that she would never be enough. That if she accepted, she would never know what it was to be loved.
Then again, you did not know that Christopher could love you, either.
“I will let you think upon it,” the duke said. “But you do not have long. The bishop arrives tomorrow. And I would prefer to get this matter settled quickly, before scandal touches it.”
And with a final nod, he left her standing alone in the garden, her thoughts reeling.
There was one last person she needed to speak with before making a decision. And this person’s advice would not be unbiased. It would, however, be smart.
Half an hour later, she had found her mother in the parlor and explained everything to her. Lady Pembury had listened dispassionately, her face a mask that even Cassandra could not read. When she was done, Cassandra collapsed backward against the settee and looked at her mother expectantly.
“Well?” she murmured. “What do you think?”
Lady Pembury let out a long, slow breath, then folded her hands in her lap. “I think that… you are very lucky indeed.”
Cassandra sat up. “Lucky?” she repeated, a little incredulously.
“Yes, very lucky,” her mother repeated. “I know that I encouraged the match with Lord Christopher, but I do not think either of us harbored any illusions about his character. The man is charming, to be sure, but…” She trailed off, shrugging.
“His brother, on the other hand, is of a disposition that is much more predictable. And predictable, in marriage, is an undervalued quality.”
Cassandra swallowed. She was not so certain.
But Lady Pembury continued, as if reading her mind.
“He will not run up gambling debts. He will be loyal. He will not run off to Holland just when you need him most. He will keep you respectable and your wealth intact. More importantly, perhaps, he is the duke. You will not just be the sister of a duke, but the duchess herself.”
I might have been the duchess anyway, if he had no plans to remarry, she thought. Lord Christopher was his heir, after all. But she did not say this. Instead, she spoke the real objection that lingered in her heart.
“But… He cannot love me,” Cassandra whispered. “He said so himself.”
“And you think Lord Christopher would have?” Her mother asked sharply.
Cassandra looked away. No, Lord Christopher did not love me, was the correct answer. But still, hearing it said out loud, crushed all her secret hopes. Hopes she knew she had been foolish to cherish.
“Do not be naive, Cassandra,” her mother said, her voice still edged with harshness.
“And do not mistake the reason for this marriage. It is and always was a political and financial alliance. That is what marriages of the ton are. That is what mine was to your father. But did I complain? No. I did my duty.”
Something in her mother’s voice made Cassandra look back at her. “Did you ever love Father?”
She watched as her mother stiffened, her lips turning down into a frown. For a moment, she wondered if she had made a mistake in asking so directly. But then her mother’s shoulders relaxed, and her hands unclenched.
“I have learned to love your father, yes,” she said quietly. “It was not always the case, but over the years our fondness and respect for one another grew. I know it is not the stuff of romantic novels, but that kind of love… There is a sweetness to it all its own.”
Cassandra carried these words with her as she paced through the castle for the next few hours, taking in the home of which she might be mistress. A love that grew… Her mother was right. It was not something out of a romantic novel, nor was it what she had dreamed of when she was a little girl.
But on the other hand, she would have a respectable husband. A castle in the Scottish Highlands. A title.
Perhaps best of all, she would have Annabelle to raise. And maybe, someday, children of her own.
The thought made heat rush to her cheeks, and she had to still the beating of her heart with deep, careful breaths. The flutter in her stomach when she imagined her children with the duke would not do. She would have to shut every part of that down and accept what he could offer her.
She found him in the courtyard of the Castle, pacing back and forth. He was still in the dark jacket he had been wearing earlier, his cravat perfectly starched, his expression moody and restless. But when he heard her footsteps, he turned at once, as if he already knew that it was her.
Cassandra clasped her hands behind her back and took a step forward. She looked him directly in the eyes as she spoke.
“I will accept your proposal,” she said, her voice echoing slightly as it bounced off of the stone walls of the courtyard.
It wasn’t joy with which she spoke, nor was it defeat.
She was steady and clear-eyed. “This is the best possible outcome for everyone involved,” she continued.
“For myself, for you, for my father, and most of all, for Annabelle.”
His eyes flickered as she said this, and he took a step toward her. She drew back slightly, and he stopped. For a long moment, they considered one another, the tension in the air so taut between them that Cassandra felt she could have cut it with a knife.
Then he took another step toward her. This time, she did not move, until he was standing right in front of her, his dark, impenetrable eyes boring into her, as if they could see all the way into the darkest depths of her soul and what was lurking there.
“Very well,” he murmured at last, and she felt the words go through her like a shiver. “The bishop will arrive tomorrow. And then, Lady Cassandra, we will be man and wife.”