Chapter 14
Fourteen
The preparations for the wedding began immediately.
Isolde had not known what to expect, seeing as she had never been married before. And even though she knew people who had been, she had never been involved in a wedding of such status and expectation.
She worried at first that she would be expected to take a greater part in its organization. After all, she was the bride, and she assumed that was her role. But then she remembered who she was marrying, and she might have laughed to herself, were it not so utterly tragic.
“All you need do is show up,” Cassian told her the following morning as they broke their fast. “Surely, you can manage that?”
“Do you not need my help?” she asked him.
“If there is anything you require, any requests, you will have them,” he told her with a loving smile. “But I want this day to be perfect, just as I want you not to become all stressed. Please, Isolde, relax. Let me take care of it.”
“As you say…”
The estate became a hive of activity over the following week.
At all hours, Cassian was shut away in his office, working on the wedding.
But he was never alone. Whenever Isolde walked past his closed door, she would hear voices spoken quickly and sternly.
And often she would walk through the manor, spying various bodies whom she did not know as they hustled about.
Some were decorators. Some were cooks. Some were florists, musicians, and any number of organizers for things that she did not know a wedding day required. It was a lot.
By far, the worst part was when Isolde was forced to meet with various lords and ladies who claimed to be friends of Cassian.
She would be in the library or sitting somewhere in the back garden when she was approached by a footman who told her that she was needed in Cassian’s office.
Names were given to her, but she did not recognize them. Nor did she recognize faces.
Luckily, Cassian was in the same position as she was. Every single time she was ushered into his office, he would rise quickly and hurry toward her, an arm outstretched and a smile on his face.
“Here she is,” he would say as his hand touched on the small of her back. It always sent a pulse through her body, which she told herself was guilt, but suspected it was something else. “Miss Isolde Whitmore, my future wife.”
The various lords and ladies whom she met were always the same. Their dress was regal. Their cadence was arrogant. And every single one looked at her with such suspicion that she braced herself for one of them to denounce her to her face and name her a liar.
“Miss Whitmore?” they would ask. “Of the Whitemuirs from the Scottish Isles?”
“That is right, my lord…”
“How very strange…”
“A vicar’s daughter, you say? I would like to know that story.”
“His Grace has nothing but good things to say of you. It truly is lucky that you found one another.”
If Cassian was put out by their comments, he did not show it.
As was his way, he was nothing but cheerful and friendly.
In fact, more than once, Isolde noticed how strangely these lords and ladies looked at him.
No doubt they were surprised by the way he acted, just as they no doubt struggled to recognize him.
As the days dragged on, Isolde’s guilt grew.
It is happening… there is nothing you can do… it is too late to stop it.
Cassian was just so eager. And every night as they met for supper, he would tell her of what he had planned. And always, he looked at her for a reaction, only ever satisfied when she smiled and told him how grateful she was.
“I had tried to arrange a flight of doves,” he explained on the third night. “To be released when we were named man and wife.”
“Doves…” She tried not to look perplexed.
“Is it too much?” he asked with a grimace.
“What? No,” she assured him. “It is just…” She bit into her lip, the guilt attacking her. “You do not have to go through all this trouble, Cassian. A small ceremony, that is all I require.”
“A small ceremony?” he laughed and waved her away.
“That is not…” He sighed and reached over the table to take her hand.
She gasped at his touch, as if it burned her.
“These last few days, Isolde, I have met dozens of so-called friends whom I do not know or recognize. Truly, many of them I wish I did not know.” He curled his lip.
“One can often judge a man by those he calls friends, and if that is the case, I was not much of a man at all.”
She looked away, thinking that she might burst into tears.
“The point is, I see this wedding as a fresh start. An announcement, in some ways, of who I have become. Many of these lords and ladies look at me as if they are the ones who do not recognize me.” He laughed. “So, if that is the case, why not make it official?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is the beginning of our new life,” he said as he held her hand and looked into her eyes. He was so honest, so sure of himself. “And I want it to be perfect, just as I want the world to know how I feel about you.”
Her chest tightened, the guilt crashed on her, and she had to hold back her tears.
“And when we kiss as man and wife…” His eyes flashed and he held her hand tighter. “Truly, that is what I most look forward to. When the world knows you are mine, and I can show the world that you are.” His eyes flicked to her lips.
Was it only guilt that she felt? Or was it something else? Not just a wretched feeling brought about because she was lying to a man who did not deserve it, but sorrow that attacked her because she was lying to a man whom she had started to… whom she knew in her heart…
What am I saying? How can I feel this way?
His eyes left her lips and she gasped. Despite it all, she wondered how those lips might feel on her own. And when she did, she knew more than ever how awful a person she was.
It was the morning of the fourth day when Mr. Pemberton came to see her. She sat in the morning room, pretending to read, but was unable to concentrate.
“My lady,” Mr. Pemberton spoke softly from right in front of her.
“Oh!” she started in surprise to find him leering over her. “Mr. Pemberton, I did not hear you.”
“I have been meaning to talk to you.” He did not look as if he meant to sit. Hands folded behind his back, his eyes were probing and accusatory. “The wedding is four days hence, and His Grace is…” A shake of the head. “I have never seen him so excited.”
She forced a smile. “Nor have I.”
“You care for him, don’t you?” he asked. Then, “Do not answer,” he said quickly. “Even before the accident, he was always far more fragile than he let on. He wore a shell made of iron, but underneath beat a gentle heart that few ever knew existed.”
“I do not… what are you…”
“Whatever game it is that you are playing, whatever your aim is, the time has come to ask yourself if it is worth the cost. One day, his memories will return, at which point the truth will come out.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “And when that happens, needless to say, it will not go well for you.”
“I… I only want to help…” She said it weakly, pathetically, so that even she did not believe it anymore.
“I do not care about you,” he said. “His Grace is my only concern and if you do care for him, and you do want to help, you might want to consider what such a revelation will do to him.”
She said nothing, because what could she say? Mr. Pemberton was right and while Isolde had tried not to think about it, wanting to live in a world of ignorance, the time for such things was drawing toward a close.
One day, the truth would come out, and no amount of excuses would change the result. Cassian would be devastated, broken, and Isolde would be the cause.
Once, she might not have cared… but that time had long since passed. She knew how she felt about Cassian now, just as she knew that she could not hurt him.
I never wanted to hurt him. I never meant for it to go this far…
Isolde spent the day thinking about what she had to do. She reasoned long and hard. She went over every possible outcome. In the end, she knew the truth of it, just as she knew what had to happen if she was to save not just her own soul, but that of Cassian’s.
He deserved so much more than what she had given him, just as he deserved the truth. Thus, coming to a decision, the hardest that she had ever had to reach, Isolde realized that she had no choice in the matter. It was time to do the right thing and suffer the consequences of what she had caused.
It was time to tell Cassian the truth.