Chapter 20
Twenty
“You did well tonight, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton said. He stood in front of Cassian’s desk, hands folded behind his back, and an expression on his face that almost looked proud.
Cassian scoffed. “It was not such a hard thing. All I needed to do was act like a tyrant. It seems to be what is expected.”
“Oh, it is a little more complicated than that,” Mr. Pemberton assured him. “I know you have spent the last day studying the various business contracts you were involved in, and to recall the details so effortlessly is no small task.”
“I suppose so…”
“I wonder, is it possible that some of it is coming back to you?” Mr. Pemberton raised an eyebrow at Cassian. “You did mention before that bits and pieces were returning.”
“Not in the way that you think,” Cassian said. “And not nearly quickly enough.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“Should I not be? How much easier things would be if I woke tomorrow and my memories had returned. Perhaps they will…” He curled his lip distastefully at the thought. “Let us pray on it.”
“If you say so…” Mr. Pemberton looked at Cassian as if he did not believe him.
The man knows me well. Better than I know myself, I dare say.
While it would indeed be easier if Cassian’s memories returned to him in one fell swoop, he was not so sure that he wanted such a thing. In fact, the more that he considered such a situation, the more that Cassian was forced to concede that it might be for the best if his memories never came back.
He had seen how Mr. Collins and Mr. Hart had looked at him this evening, and how they had acted around him. They were scared of him, cautious not to say or do the wrong thing, and constantly seeking ways to compliment and worship him as if such things were expected.
Worse too. As Cassian acted in the role of the person they knew him to be, he had noticed how effective it was. A harsh word spoken. A snarl here, a sneer there. They thought of him as a monster and did not blink when he proved it was true.
Is that really who I want to be? Did he really want to return to such a beast as that? No, he wasn’t sure that he did, even if it would make things that much more simple.
“A drink, Mr. Pemberton?” Cassian reached into the right drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of brandy. “I think we have earned it.”
“I am quite fine, thank you,” Mr. Pemberton said simply.
Cassian laughed. “Ah yes, ever the bastion of decorum…” Cassian looked around his office, one that felt familiar to him now.
Some of those were his recent memories, but many were vague images that niggled at the back of his mind as if trying to break into his consciousness.
“I do have minor recollections of you having never joined me for a drink before. This office…” He gestured to it.
“I see it like a shadow, me here drinking and smoking, you in the corner watching and saying nothing.”
“It is not my place to join you, Your Grace.”
“Even if I asked it of you?”
“You never did.”
Cassian winced at the simplicity of the comment. Although he could not fathom why he would have never asked his steward, a man who was a friend, to join him in a drink, he knew it was the truth. Further proof that such a man was not one he should yearn to return to being.
“I am asking now,” he said with a warm smile.
“I do appreciate it, Your Grace, but I do not drink.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t have a taste for it.”
“Lucky…” Cassian chuckled as he poured a glass. “I suppose then it’s just me alone, as is my way. I do not remember much, but I remember that.”
Mr. Pemberton watched him take a sip of his brandy, and as he did, there was a look that passed behind his eyes that suggested there was something he wished to say.
If it were the old me, I wonder if he would dare, as the topic is clearly sensitive. But as it is the new me…
“Forgive me for saying so, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton began carefully, to which Cassian chuckled. “But Her Grace also did a rather commendable job this evening.”
Cassian’s laughter died on his tongue.
“She was nervous, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton continued. “Unsure of how to behave, as she was unsure if she could play her part. But she did so with aplomb.”
“Your point?” Cassian snapped before he could stop himself.
“No point,” Mr. Pemberton said. “I just wished to make note of it.”
If Cassian had things his way he would have refused Mr. Pemberton’s suggestion that Isolde join him for supper.
Frustratingly, his steward had made an argument to which there was no good counter, and Cassian knew too well that if he wished to convince the ton that his life was his own again, that he needed to include his wife. It was expected.
How much easier things would have been if Cassian hated her. How much he wished that when he saw her, wrath and anger was what poured through his veins.
Alas, Cassian’s feelings were nowhere near that simple.
Indeed, when he had seen her arrive at the top of the staircase earlier, dressed as she was, looking so devastatingly beautiful, it was all he could do to not gape and smile and tell her just how perfect she was.
And when she came to him, as she played the role of dutiful wife, Cassian had to force himself not to look at her. He forced those scowls. He forced the glare in his eyes. He forced the contempt because it was the only way he could control himself.
And oh, how he hated having to do it.
She just looked so utterly broken. When their eyes met, he saw in them her sadness, just as he knew the guilt that she felt for her actions. She had wronged him. She had hurt and betrayed him. She had broken the trust, and Cassian could never forgive her. Even if he wanted to…
His hope was that, in time, he would simply forget about her, that she would become little more than a ghost that haunted this manor. Rarely heard. Never seen. Less than a memory. Only then might Cassian be able to move on.
“It is done,” he dismissed Mr. Pemberton. “And I will not praise Isolde for doing the bare minimum. If she had not lied to me in the first place, it would not be necessary.”
“I am not suggesting that you praise her, Your Grace.”
“Then what are you suggesting?” he snapped.
“These next few weeks are pivotal. As a newly married couple, the two of you will be expected to attend certain events together. And seeing as you must remind the ton of who you are, as well as reminding yourself for that matter, many of these events cannot be avoided.”
Cassian’s stomach squirmed. “I am aware of my duty.”
“As I have made sure that Her Grace is aware of hers,” Mr. Pemberton said. “She is eager to make up for what she did, just as she is eager to do whatever is required of her.”
“There is no making up for it,” Cassian snarled. “What she did…” He squirmed as his stomach did. “I would sooner forget her entirely.”
“In time, that will be an option,” Mr. Pemberton said. “But for now, as much as you will hate it, the two of you will be spending time together in social settings. I will do as I can to train her and make her ready, but you must play your role too.”
“Tell me, Mr. Pemberton, were you always this stubborn? I would have thought I might have whipped it out of you by now.”
His smile was curt. “When your memories return, perhaps that will change.”
“I hear what you are saying…” Cassian’s shoulders sank and he took another deep sip of brandy as if it might dull his senses and soften the pain that refused to leave his heart.
“Just as I know what I must do. But I will not do more than I need to,” he said with little conviction. “The bare minimum.”
“Of course.”
“When is the next event?” he asked.
“Two days hence,” Mr. Pemberton said immediately. “Mr. Brooks has invited you and a few other peers to a supper.”
“Mr. Brooks…”
“The shipping contracts, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton reminded him. “They are worth—”
“Yes, yes,” he cut Mr. Pemberton off. “I remember.”
“You must attend,” his steward continued.
“As must Her Grace. And while I will do as I can, you must also play the role in which you have found yourself. In the safety of your home, it is acceptable to act a certain way. But in the company of others, you will be watched closely, and anything untoward or strange…”
“You are telling me that I must be warm to her. Is that it?”
“More that you cannot spend the night ignoring her. I know it will be difficult for you, Your Grace, but it is imperative that questions not be raised.”
Why did it feel as if Mr. Pemberton was working against him? Although everything the man said made perfect sense, it sounded as if he was trying to manipulate Cassian into having affections for his wife.
Likely, Cassian was simply imagining things. At least he told himself that he was.
On the surface, he reasoned that he would do as he had to do, and that it would make no real difference.
He could not forgive Isolde for what she had done, nor did he want to.
He would play his role, he would get through the Season, and then he would cut her off entirely and pretend that she did not exist.
It was easier that way… it was all he could do to save himself.
But beneath that hardened surface, under the shell Cassian wore, he worried what might happen if he was forced to be kind to his wife, to treat her as if they were a happily married couple.
Would he forget how much she had hurt him?
Would he start to remember how much he had loved her? Did he want that?
It was all very confusing, and Cassian doubted that such confusion would change anytime soon.
I will do as I must and no more…
“You are dismissed, Mr. Pemberton,” he sighed and waved the man out of the room.
“Do what you can for Isolde, and I promise that I will do the same. But warn her, Mr. Pemberton…” He fixed a scowl on his steward.
“She is to know that I am only being kind to her because I must, not because I want to. If I had it my way, I would never see her again.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Mr. Pemberton bowed once and left the room.
Cassian knew that his warning, while it was said to be for Isolde, was for him too. He had to remember what she had done to him, he had to remember how it made him feel, and most of all, he had to remember that the love he thought he felt for Isolde was not real.