Chapter 16
“And Annabelle is entirely out of danger now?” Lillian asked. She and Cassandra were strolling through the gardens together the next morning, the cool morning air refreshing after spending much of the night in Annabelle’s room.
“That is what the doctor says,” Cassandra said. “He thinks it was just a brief fever, the kind children often get.”
She tried to sound unconcerned, but it was difficult.
Every time she remembered how it had felt to see the child feverish and sweaty, she felt the same knot of fear in her stomach.
Never before had worry engulfed her like that, making her completely single-minded.
Then again, she had never had someone to worry over like that before.
Lillian, of course, read through her right away.
“You must still be worried,” she said softly. “I know I am.”
Swallowing, Cassandra nodded. “She just looked so helpless and vulnerable. And I felt such a deep need to keep her safe, to watch over her. And she is not even my…”
She trailed off, unsure if she wanted to share with Lillian what Annabelle had called her the night before.
As much as she wanted to talk about it, to revel in it, to hear Annabelle call her Mama again and again, she knew that it was probably just a symptom of the fever.
It was too soon for Annabelle to consider Cassandra her mother.
“You love her, though,” Lillian said. “Even if she is not your child, you love her.”
“Yes,” Cassandra admitted. “I do. Is that odd? I have only been here a few weeks, after all.”
“It is not odd,” Lillian assured her, taking her arm and squeezing it. “Annabelle is the most lovable child in the world. And she is part of your husband, as well.”
Cassandra made a small noise of dissatisfaction. “That is not the reason I love Annabelle,” she said. “It is not as if the duke and I are in love.”
Lillian eyed her, a small, skeptical smile on her lips. “And yet, when I came in with the doctor last night, I saw the two of you holding hands across Annabelle’s bed.”
“We were worried about her,” Cassandra said indignantly, although her cheeks did flush as well. “It was nothing more.”
Lillian laughed. “Whatever you say.” She was quiet for a long moment after that, and Cassandra gazed sideways at her. Her friend’s expression had dimmed considerably, and now she was staring moodily ahead at the perfectly trimmed hedgerows.
“What is it?” Cassandra asked.
Lillian shook herself. “It is nothing,” she said quickly. “Only that…”
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it cannot be as awful as all that.”
A long moment passed, during which Lillian looked as if she were fighting whether or not to say something, then at last she set out a long sigh and turned to Cassandra.
“Last night, Alaric—Mr. Greybourne—he told me that he… he cares for me.”
Cassandra tried to look surprised, although she was not actually at all.
“That is very gratifying,” she said carefully.
“It is,” Lillian said, although her expression did not seem to be one of gratitude. It was conflicted and unhappy. “I was not expecting it.”
“Were you really not?” Cassandra was curious now. “It seems so obvious to me that his feelings for you are tender ones.”
“I suppose…” Lillian looked away. “But it cannot be. My family is poor, my father has lost everything, and I have no dowry to speak of. And Mr. Greybourne’s family, while respectable, has no fortune either.
No matter what his feelings for me might be, a match between us would be imprudent for all involved. ”
Cassandra frowned at her. “You have spoken of the imprudence of it, but you have not spoken at all about your feelings. Do you like Mr. Greybourne? If it were not for the money, would you welcome his attention? His courtship?”
Lillian hesitated, but the spark of delight that flickered through her eyes told Cassandra everything she needed to know.
“You do like him,” she said, not able to keep herself from smiling any longer. “That is wonderful, Lillian! He is a very amiable and reliable man, I know that the duke holds him in the highest esteem!”
“But it cannot be!” Lillian said, her voice growing increasingly distressed.
“He needs an heiress, and I need a husband with some kind of fortune. I cannot be a governess forever, Cassandra. Well, I suppose I could, but it would be difficult. Annabelle will grow up one day, and then I will have to find another charge, move away from Calder…”
She looked away, but not before Cassandra saw the blur of tears in her eyes.
“I grew up not far from here, you know,” she murmured. “Calder is my home. I would wish to stay here forever. But if I cannot secure a match with a gentleman of means, then I will be forced to go to Inverness, or Edinburgh, and try to find work. I will be on my own, unprotected, poor…”
Cassandra said nothing to this. She knew first hand what it was like to travel to an unknown place, far from home, in order to begin an uncertain new life. She had traveled all the way to rural Scotland to marry a man she hardly knew.
But it was also not the same. Cassandra had been leaving home to marry a wealthy gentleman who would take care of her. Lillian would be leaving Calder in order to work for a pittance. She would, as she said, be alone and unprotected, which could be dangerous for a young woman.
“The duke…” she began slowly. “He will take care of you. He would not allow you to find yourself in a bad situation. I am sure that he would provide for you.”
Lillian shook her head. “I cannot ask that of him. He is already paying me far more than most governesses make. He knows my father, you see, and although he does not approve of his bad investments, he always took pity on me and my mother.”
“He is a very good man,” Cassandra said, a lump rising in her throat as she thought of how Ewan had looked the day before, bent over his daughter’s bedside, his brow creased with worry, his eyes filled with love. “And you do not have to ask him for help. He will provide it.”
But Lillian did not look convinced. “I must find a husband who can provide for me,” she said, and she sounded more determined now. “And I must not let myself get distracted by other… sentiments.”
“Are you sure?” Cassandra said, but Lillian’s expression had already settled into something so implacable that Cassandra knew she would not get through to her.
Anyway, she wasn’t sure if she was even right to encourage Lillian to accept Mr. Greybourne’s attention. She herself had married for practical financial and political reasons. Who was she to tell another woman to behave differently?
And yet…
When she tried to imagine how it would feel to be married to Christopher, to feel these tender things for Ewan while another man was her husband…
She did not even like to consider how terrible that would feel.
After they returned to the house, Cassandra went to check on Annabelle. The girl was resting, and after making sure that she was feeling better and was not in need of anything, Cassandra found that she very much wanted to be alone.
A long walk was exactly what she needed. But she was just coming down the stairs in her pelisse and walking boots when she heard her name being called, and she turned to see her father hurrying after her down the stairs.
“Are you going out?” he asked, and, before he could answer, he continued, “Good, I was also thinking of going for a walk. I shall accompany you.”
It took all of Cassandra’s training to hide her irritation. Forcing herself to smile, she nodded. “Of course, Father. You are welcome to join me.”
Once they were out of the castle gates, he cleared his throat and gave her a very serious look.
“You are doing well here, Cassandra,” he murmured, clasping his hands behind his back. “Better than I ever could have anticipated.”
Cassandra said nothing. She was used to her father’s backhanded compliments.
“When I first learned that Christopher was missing and you would be marrying the duke, I was worried,” he continued.
“Of course, I was pleased you would become the duchess, but I was worried I had not prepared you for the role you were about to step into. And I feared you would not know how to handle a man as difficult and recalcitrant as the duke.”
“Is he recalcitrant?” Cassandra asked, a little surprised. “I have found him to know his own mind, yes, but not stubborn.”
“He is stubborn,” her father said dismissively.
“It is well known in the Scottish political circles that when it comes to the rights of farmers and tenants, he will not give an inch. Sometimes I think he cares less about preserving the old houses and titles than he does about improving the conditions of the workers.” Her father shook his head.
Cassandra, meanwhile, felt her hands ball into fists. Of course he cares more about the workers, she wanted to snarl. But she did not say this.
“Anyway, as I said, you are doing well,” Lord Pembury continued. “The duke seems very taken by you, and it has softened him. Even just this morning, he was more open to Lord Whitmore’s ideas when the two of them were speaking about the future of farming in the Highlands.”
Cassandra did not respond to this right away. She was too surprised to form words. Not only had she been unaware that Ewan had spoken to Lord Whitmore this morning, but she had no idea what her father meant about him being taken with her.
Lord Pembury, however, did not seem to need her response. He almost never did.
“The way he looks at you, with so much delight and admiration, even fondness, it is extraordinary, my dear!” Her father smiled at her and patted her arm. “I was not expecting the duke to warm to you so quickly. He does not warm to many people.”
Cassandra forced herself to unstick her throat. “You think he has warmed to me?” she asked.
“Of course he has!” Her father chuckled.
“You have seen the way he looks at you, surely? As if he thinks you are the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. I remember the feeling well. When your mother and I were first married, I could not take my eyes off of her…” He shook his head.
“Of course, things became more strained when she could not give me a son.”
Cassandra’s stomach curled with anger, and she looked away. Who says it was her fault? She wanted to snap, but she held her tongue.
“That is why you must give the duke a son,” her father continued.
He was not looking at her now, and she was glad of it.
Heat crept up her neck and cheeks, and he seemed uncomfortable as well as he cleared his throat.
“The happier the duke is, the easier it will be for all of us to work together and make the political advancements we want. We are all on the same side, after all.”
They had reached the end of the drive, and her father made to turn left, down the road that would take them into the village.
Cassandra, however, stopped.
“I think I want to go back,” she said. She was suddenly feeling dizzy, and as she touched her head, the world swam in front of her. “I am not feeling well.”
“But of course,” Lord Pembury said quickly. He offered her his arm, and she took it. “Perhaps it is the heat,” he said. “Or maybe you are with child already.”
She said nothing, simply allowing him to steer her back to the house.
They had just reached the courtyard when the door to the castle was flung open and Ewan stepped outside.
One look at him told Cassandra that something had disturbed him.
He spared her only a glance before hurrying forward, toward the drawbridge, shading his eyes as if to glimpse something in the distance.
“Ewan?” She released her father’s arm and followed her husband across the courtyard. “Ewan, what is it?”
He turned to her then, and she saw that his face was stricken. Immediately, fear washed through her with all the force and suddenness of a summer rainstorm.
“There is a rider on the horizon,” Ewan said. His voice was hoarse. “I was up in the East Tower and I saw him approaching.”
“A rider?” she frowned at him. That could be anyone, could it not?
“He is riding with haste,” Ewan said. “And… He looks familiar.”
It took Cassandra several seconds to understand what he was saying. Then her lips parted, and she also stared out onto the horizon, looking for the rider.
Was it possible that it was Christopher?
But no, it couldn’t be.
Christopher was dead.
Unless…
The sound of hoofbeats filled their ears, and Cassandra’s stomach jolted.
Then, in the distance, she saw him: A slim man on a horse, riding toward the castle at full speed, as if something were chasing him.
Instinctively, she reached for Ewan’s hand, and to her surprise, he took it at once, holding it firmly and tightly.
If it was confusing and scary to imagine Christopher returning for her, then she had no idea what it must feel like for Ewan. He was his brother, and he had thought him dead.
The rider was drawing closer, but Cassandra could not make out his face yet, could not distinguish him. She and Ewan drew closer.
They did not say anything, but their bodies drew together as if magnetized, and she felt something almost calm wash over her. No matter what was about to happen, no matter who the man she was, she and Ewan were united.