Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Isolde waited all day for Cassian to come and see her.
Where the week before this, she had known he would not do such a thing, she was certain that today would be different.
Not that his visit was something she looked forward to, because the reason would bring her no joy, but it was going to happen. She was certain of it.
So, when Mr. Pembroke appeared in the back garden and waved to her, Isolde’s stomach dropped and her heart tore that little bit more; it was nearly in two pieces by that point, surely one more gut-wrenching revelation away from being utterly destroyed.
He cannot even bring himself to deliver his bad news personally. How far we have fallen…
Isolde sat underneath a large oak tree, using the shade of the canopy to guard her from the midday sun. As Mr. Pembroke approached, she closed the book she was reading and slowly stood. Then, she forced a smile, not wanting to appear so obviously distraught.
“There you are, Your Grace,” he said as he hurried toward her. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”
“Only you?” she asked with a fragment of hope. “Not…” She grimaced and could not bring herself to look at Mr. Pembroke. “What of Cassian?”
“He is busy, Your Grace.”
“He has been all week.”
“It has been a most trying week, Your Grace. I assure you, it is not to be taken personally.”
She laughed bitterly, feeling unable to help herself. “And yet it feels that way.”
Mr. Pembroke looked at her sadly. She found it funny that when she had first met Mr. Pembroke, he had been her enemy; the one person who might expose who she was and bring her world crashing down.
Now, he was her biggest supporter, and the look in his eyes told her exactly how he felt about what had passed this week.
He was still her ally, even if it made no real difference.
“What if I were to tell you that it was His Grace who sent me to find you?” he asked her with a warm smile that she did not feel. “He has been worried about you, Your Grace. Truly, know that to be the case.”
“I appreciate what you are trying to do, Mr. Pembroke.” Still with that forced smile, she stepped forward and rested her hand on his shoulder. “But please, there is no need for such things. I know now how Cassian feels about me, and all that is left to do is the obvious thing.”
His expression hardened. “That is not going to happen.”
“It is,” she said with a deep sigh.
Isolde had since come to terms with the reality of her future.
For those first few days after Mr. Harwood’s visit, she had held out hope that Cassian might see through the man’s lies and stand by her side.
Sadly, a week later and still not a word from Cassian was proof enough that she could no longer lie to herself.
Her marriage to Cassian was over, and all that was left was for him to tell her so.
As to why Mr. Pembroke had come to see her?
That was not so much a surprise as it was a confirmation.
Tonight, she and Cassian were supposed to be attending a small drum event at Lord Montague’s estate, that had been planned weeks ago.
As a final effort to stay positive, she had held out the hope that he might come to her today and tell her that he wanted her there with him…
that he would use such an event to finally realize his feelings.
Either that, or he would tell her that they were not going to attend, and that would be the final nail in the coffin.
That he was sending Mr. Pembroke to do his dirty work was the final insult, and now Isolde wondered if she would ever speak with Cassian again.
I know how he likes to avoid painful moments. So that he might just avoid me entirely, rather than facing me a final time, makes perfect sense.
“I just want you to know how much I have appreciated all your help, Mr. Pembroke,” Isolde told the steward. “I know we did not always get along, but these last few weeks, well, I like to think of you as a friend. And I hope you think the same of me.”
“Of course I do.”
“And when this is all over, I hope we will stay friends.”
“Your Grace…” He could not have looked more conflicted, more filled with worry.
On his face, behind his eyes, Isolde saw the battle that he fought with, which further confirmed that he knew the truth.
And while he likely wanted to tell her himself, it wasn’t his place.
“There is no need for such promises. You are not going anywhere.”
She laughed but it was hollow. “As you say.”
“I do say it,” he said firmly. “Which is why I have come to find you. His Grace wished to do it himself, but he is not home of the moment, nor will he be until much later. If at all.”
“What does that mean?”
“Before he left this morning, he asked that I confirm that you will be ready for tonight’s drum at Lord Montague’s estate. He expects you to attend.”
“He does?” Isolde blinked in surprise. “But why?”
“He wants you there, Your Grace. Believe me when I tell you as much.”
It was subtle, the faintest flicker of hope lighting somewhere deep within. Isolde felt it, she tried to ignore it, but it was there. Was it possible? Had she been wrong all this time?”
“I was not sure…” Her brow furrowed as she considered. “I thought he might wish to cancel our plans.”
“The exact opposite,” Mr. Pembroke told her. “Now, His Grace will try and arrive home in time for the two of you to leave together. However, he has also made it clear that such things might not be possible. If that is so, you are to arrive alone, and he will meet you.”
Isolde leaned back in surprise. “But that is… to attend separately will look strange, no? What will people say?”
“You ought to know by now that His Grace does not care about what others think,” Mr. Pembroke said with a caring smile, his expression one of warmth and even love. “All he cares about is you, Your Grace. Please, know that to be true.”
“Then why has he not seen me all week?” she asked. “Why has he avoided me?”
Mr. Pembroke clicked his tongue, and she saw again the fight passing behind his eyes. “That is not for me to say. But I promise that it is not what you think, Your Grace. Just as I promise that after tonight, all will be revealed.”
“Revealed?” She studied Mr. Pembroke, her own confusion mounting. “What are you saying? Please, speak plainly.”
“I wish that I could,” he sighed. “But promise that you will attend. Please, Your Grace.”
Isolde considered the situation the best that she could.
Common sense and self-doubt told her to temper her excitement.
Likely, Cassian wished to keep up appearances, a means to lessen the rumors that would surely happen if they cancelled their attendance.
Also, as she knew that Mr. Harwood was set to attend the drum, Cassian probably just wanted to be there to keep an eye on him.
Do not get your hopes up, Isolde. Not now…
But Mr. Pembroke’s words were impossible to ignore, as was the sincerity in which he spoke them. He truly believed that she had nothing to fear, and he looked at her as if he needed her to believe it also. Was it possible that she had been wrong? Was there a chance that Cassian did not hate her?
“As you say,” she said slowly and with caution. “Of course, if Cassian wants me there, I will attend. I owe him that much.”
Mr. Pembroke exhaled with relief. “This is not the end for you, Your Grace. And I swear that in days to come, we will look back on this past week and laugh.”
“I hope that is the case, Mr. Pembroke. You have no idea how much I do.”