Wade could never forget that feeling of abandonment, or the jealousy he’d felt seeing Simon welcomed home each holiday by a family who was overjoyed to see their children.
Even now, as a grown man, Wade longed for the comfort of being loved. For the acceptance and understanding that had been denied him. He no longer needed a mother, but desperately wanted a family of his own. People of his own.
Someone to claim him.
Someone towanthim.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He had the worst luck—or, possibly, the worst judgment—of any man she’d ever met. The Duke of Wadebridge had put his trust in yet another woman who could not give him the love he deserved.
Cassandradidlove him. She’d fallen for him the moment he’d shown up at her door with a modest bouquet of buttercups. Wadebridge had offered her something that was special to him. He’d been sharing his past, his fears, and his hopes for a happier future with her from the very beginning.
She could see it all so clearly now.
The duke believed he had been forsaken as a youth. Given up by his mother. Cast aside into the care of a committee. For most of his adult life, he’d believed himself unwanted, unlovable, ridiculed and left behind. He had acted accordingly, earning himself a black reputation. He likely pushed people away to avoid being hurt.
What was he going to do when she refused him once and for all?
Wadebridge’s intentions were honest. Generous. Admirable, even. He wanted to make her his wife, his duchess, and the one woman he could trust to spend his life with. Knowing what she knew about his past, Cassandra sensed he would be a faithful and supportive husband, for he knew what it felt like to have his heart broken. He would not wish such pain on another soul.
Now, Cassandra feared being added to the long list of people who had disappointed the Duke of Wadebridge.
She could never marry him. She could not give him the physical relationship he deserved. She could not even give him children, which—as a duke—he required. Such a marriage would be cruel and one-sided, and she could not take advantage of this honorable man.
Of course, she would refuse him, but it would crush both of their souls to do it.
They were quiet as they finished their meal. Cassandra rushed through hers, barely tasting her roast mutton and gravy, while Wadebridge ate slowly, as if savoring every morsel. This dinner had a feeling of finality that neither of them was willing to address.
They did not want their time together to come to an end.
After thanking Mr. and Mrs. Harris for their hospitality, she allowed His Grace to escort her home. He held the door for her, but she dreaded leaving the White Lion. She hesitated on the front steps.
Cassandra turned her face to the sky, watching as the last rays of the sun sank behind the rooftops. There were still a few pedestrians milling about the village. “It’s early yet,” she said. “Why don’t we take the long way?”
Wadebridge seemed relieved. He offered her his arm, and, instead of crossing the green, walked a wide circuit around it. Together, they headed toward the shops, the school, and the church beyond.
Cassandra paused at the churchyard, where slanting, time-worn gravestones rose up from the damp grass like sad, black fingers reaching for the Heavens. The tall, square bellower cast an ominous shadow on the slabs clustered beneath it.
By day, she considered the church a place of comfort and solace, but—under the cover of darkness—the sacred space beyond the lych gate felt frighteningly bleak.
Cassandra shivered. Even as a child, she’d avoided lingering too long in the churchyard. She had once lost a bet to Honoria over who could sit between the headstones the longest without a lantern. Her younger sister had called her ‘chicken-hearted.’ Perhaps that was true, even now.
“Are your parents buried here?” Wadebridge asked.
She did not like to think of her mother and father interred. In her mind, their bodies had followed their souls to the afterlife. She imagined them eternally happy in a better place.
“They are buried together in the Derby General Cemetery.” As ladies, Cassandra, Honoria, and Octavia had not been permitted to attend the funeral.
“Why Derby?” the duke asked, urging her to walk on. It was impolite to linger.
She was glad to leave the churchyard behind. The flickering lamps of Longstone’s cottages were a welcome sight. Curious neighbors, cast in dim orange light, looked out over the pavement as the couple passed. Others closed their curtains and latched their shutters for the night.
Suddenly, there was no one left on the lane. It seemed as if the entire street had retired at once. Doubtless, word of the beautiful Miss Staunton dining with the Duke of Wadebridge had spread like wildfire. Did her neighbors fancy themselves match-makers?
The moonlight, lamplight, and glittering starlightwereromantic, even if the topic of conversation remained somewhat grim.
Why had her parents gone to Derby?The truth was a secret the sisters vowed to keep to themselves, yet Cassandra wanted so desperately to confide in her companion. Wadebridge was no gossip. After everything he had shared with her, she knew he understood the value of a confidence.
