Chapter 10
Cassandra looked around the room, her heart hammering in her throat. The duke’s bedchamber was large and bright, lit with candles.
They burned in bronze sconces along the walls and from candelabras that had been set on the dresser, the escritoire, and the vanity. The room smelled of lavender and soap, and she realized, with a jolt, that it had been prepared for her.
Prepared for the wedding night.
Cassandra looked around the room, her pulse racing.
Behind her, she heard the key turn in the lock and spun around.
“I am not locking you in,” he said, his voice deep and soft, like velvet. “I just do not want anyone trying to drunkenly get in.”
“Do you think they would do that?” she asked, her nervousness mounting.
The duke hesitated. “Scottish men can be… uncouth. Especially when they have been drinking. And especially when they have been drinking at a wedding.”
She tried to laugh, but the sound didn’t come.
Her throat was too dry. He gazed at her for a moment, then crossed the room to a crystal decanter of some golden liquid.
Pouring two glasses, he held one out to her.
She crossed to him and took it, then took a sip.
The liquid was so strong and tasted like a bonfire, and she choked.
“What is this?” she gagged, her eyes filling with tears as her throat burned.
“Islay scotch,” he said. He sounded amused. “It is not to everyone’s liking. Especially sassenachs such as you.”
She set the glass down on the dresser and looked at him. He was so tall, he seemed to take up the whole space of the room. Close to him like this, she felt particularly small and fragile, his looming bulk masculine and earthy in a way that made her stomach tie itself into knots.
She took a deep breath. “I am prepared for this night,” she murmured. “My mother, she… she prepared me. You do not have to worry that I will be frightened.”
The duke gave her a long, penetrating look.
“You are frightened,” he said. It was not a question. He knew, and the certainty of his words made her redden.
“I am not—”
“But you do not need to be,” he interrupted. “That will not be happening tonight.”
She stared up at him in shock. A million questions filled her head, but she could not articulate a single one of them. The duke, however, filled the silence.
“While we are husband and wife now, I could not be with you in that way while we are still such emotional strangers to one another. It would be against my very nature to be with someone who was not fully willing, who was only doing her duty, who did not want…” he trailed off, a dark look passing across his face.
He does not want to be with me. She had not been expecting such a rejection, and it hit her harder than she could have imagined, like a blow to the chest.
At last, he looked back at her. The candlelight was flickering across his face, making him seem even tanner than before, but also softer, more open.
“In fact,” he said, clearing his throat, “I cannot promise that there will come a time when I am interested in having that kind of relationship with you. While ours can and will be a real marriage, while I am willing to do whatever it takes to protect and care for you, ensure your comfort and happiness, while I shall be your husband in my soul, I am not sure that I can be your husband in my body.”
It took Cassandra a long time to realize what he was saying. When she finally did, she felt dizzy, as if she had stood up too quickly. She had to put out a hand to steady herself. When she could find nothing solid, he supplied himself, and she leaned against his arm.
“Sit,” he murmured, and he brought her over to the small lounge, where a sofa and a chair had been set next to a low table. She sat down obediently, and he seated himself next to her. For a long moment, there was silence, except for the guttering of the candles in their sconces.
At last, she looked up at him.
“So… never?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“Most likely,” he murmured.
Her jaw tightened, and she felt something claw its way up her stomach. Was it… disappointment?
He huffed a laugh. “Do not fret, duchess. I am much older than you. Perhaps I will not be around for long, and then you will get the chance to marry again, someone younger and more capable of meeting your needs…”
Cassandra frowned. “Why do you jest about such things?” she asked. “You have a young daughter who loves and needs you. It is not amusing to joke about your death when she is still in your care.”
“Of course,” he said, sobering. “I only meant that you may get a second chance at marriage.”
“This already is my second chance,” she pointed out.
He looked down at his hands. “And I am sorry if it is a disappointment,” he murmured. “But I must be honest about what I am capable of giving you.”
“Perhaps…” She was thinking fast, trying to make sense of everything.
“Perhaps we ought not to predict what the entirety of our marriage will look like. After all, we only decided to wed a few days ago. Perhaps it would be better to simply get to know one another. Feel comfortable in one another’s presence. ”
The duke sat back in his chair, giving her a wry, intrigued smile. “I like the sound of that,” he said. He spread his arms wide. “So tell me about yourself. What do you like to do, duchess?”
The way he said her title was almost cheeky, and she found a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Well, I like to walk,” she said slowly.
“As you saw the other day. I spent most of my life in Cornwall walking the cliffs and moors. After we came to London for the last two seasons, I desperately missed being in nature. I used to have a garden in Cornwall where I would grow herbs and vegetables. I feel more myself when I am surrounded by trees and fields.”
The duke inclined his head. “I feel much the same. Whenever I am in the city, I find myself overwhelmed.”
“Plus, you are far too large for it,” she observed, the smile wider now. “You must take up far too much space whenever you are in the city.”
“Yes,” he said, laughing quietly. “I am not suited for indoor spaces, it is true. Even this castle…” he shrugged. “I spend little time here. Most often I am in the fields, building drainage systems and helping my farmers work their lands.”
“You mentioned this before,” she said, leaning forward with interest. “I have never heard of a duke who spends so much time farming and working land. That is why, when we met, I did not think you were the duke…” She trailed off, her cheeks heating as she remembered their first meeting.
“Many of the lairds think I am mad,” the duke said, and something playful glittered in his eyes.
“But I enjoy being outside, working the land, and most of all I enjoy engineering. Modern science and mathematics are moving at a rapid pace, and the advances being made are allowing our farmers to work more efficiently and increase their profit margins. I want to bring as many of these advances as possible to my tenants. Not merely for the estate’s sake, although it does benefit it, but for the farmers’.
For centuries, farmers in the Highlands have worked difficult land for little profit. If we can change that…”
He noticed her staring and blinked. “What?” he asked, when she continued to stare at him.
“Oh, I have just never heard you say so many words together,” she said, laughing slightly. “You are indeed very passionate about engineering!”
“I am,” he said soberly, nodding. “And it occupied much of my time. I fear I will not be the most present husband. I am often out in the fields, or visiting tenants. I cannot even take the time away to take you on a honeymoon. There are too many projects in the works.”
“I do not mind,” Cassandra said quickly, and she meant it. “I do not want to leave the Highlands so soon after arriving here. I would rather get to know my new home.”
“By going for long walks?” he asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up.
“Yes,” she laughed. “By going for long walks.”
“Not everyone approves of women going for long walks by themselves,” he observed. “Some might say that it shows a remarkable sort of conceited independence. Or an arrogant disregard of propriety.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I hope you are not one such person, Your Grace.”
“Indeed I am not,” he said, flashing a grin. “I have never cared much for what anyone thinks.”
A ripple of understanding passed between them. Something fuzzy was happening in her stomach, something warm and pleasant, but she didn’t know what to make of that.
She cleared her throat and looked away. “Well…” she murmured. “Shall we… sleep?”
The duke’s voice, when it came, was very soft. “Yes, I suppose we shall.”
But sleep was all they did. She changed behind a screen, her fingers clumsy as they undid her gown, unused to undressing herself like this.
But the lock was still on the door, and she did not want her maid coming to help her, anyway.
She felt that it would disturb the subtle alliance that she had come to with the duke.
After she was changed, she slipped into her side of the bed and turned away, letting him change with her back to him. When he was ready, he blew out the candles and then lay down on the opposite side of the bed, as far from her as possible.
She closed her eyes, trying to take deep breaths, waiting for sleep to come. But it was impossible. Her heart was still beating so fast that she felt certain she would never sleep. Even her eyes seemed to be beating in time with her pulse.
“Friends first,” the duke muttered, his words filling the darkness.
Her eyes snapped open. “What did you say?” she whispered.
“We shall be friends first,” the duke repeated. “Partners in running the estate and in raising Annabelle.”
She turned over onto her side, so that she was facing him. He was still on his back, staring up at the canopy above them, but she could just make out the glint of his eyes. They were open.
“Yes,” she said. “We shall be friends and partners.” And maybe someday, something more. But she did not say this part out loud.
Somehow, she did manage to fall asleep.
***
When she woke the next morning, gray sunlight filtering in through a crack in the heavy velvet curtains, the duke was already gone. His side of the bed was smooth and perfectly made, almost as if no one had even been there.
Again, she felt disappointment bloom in her stomach. She rolled over, and something caught against her cheek. Sitting up, she saw a small sprig of heather lying on the white pillow. For a moment, she stared at it, wondering how it possibly could have gotten there.
And then she understood.
Her husband had left it there for her.
Very carefully, she picked it up, holding it gently in her fingers. Her heart was beating very quickly, and her palms were damp.
What did it mean? He must have gone out and picked it for her, then come back, and all without waking her.
She let out a long, slow breath. There would be plenty of time to mine the depths of her new husband’s mind. In the meantime, she had to begin preparing for her first day as duchess and mistress of Calder Castle.
Twenty minutes later, her maid was just putting the final touches onto her coiffure when the door of the bedchamber flew open and her mother barged in.
“Good morning, my dear!” her mother trilled. “You look very well this morning. Did you sleep soundly?” For some reason, Lady Pembury tittered as if she had just told a very good joke.
Cassandra frowned at her. “I slept well enough,” she said. “Although it was a touch cold in the night.”
Her mother shook her head. “If you are waking up in the night then your husband needs some direction, dear.”
Again, Cassandra was not entirely sure what her mother meant. However, she decided not to reveal this. She had a vague sense that it had to do with the act that had not taken place between them.
Her mother came over to her at the vanity and touched her shoulder, smiling kindly down at her.
“You are a woman now,” she murmured, “and therefore understand certain things that only women know. I am so proud of you, my dear, for stepping up and into this role, even when your bridegroom ran off and left you in dire straits. You have proven yourself worthy to take up this mantle, and I can only hope that you will continue to dazzle in your new role.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder.
“Most importantly, of course, is to become with child and birth him an heir. Nothing makes a husband more loyal than a child, especially a boy. If you need any tips on how to ensure that this happens quickly, or herbs from the kitchen, I can help you. We may speak of such things, now that you are a married woman…”
And as her mother continued on in this vein, something uncomfortable settled in Cassandra’s stomach.
She didn’t know how to tell her mother that she was not a woman at all.
That she and the duke were not to have that kind of relationship.
And that she had no idea whether or not he would ever change his mind.