She looked at him flatly. “As much as I admire mice, they are the epitome of indifference. I cannot touch them. I sneeze hard enough that my diaphragm feels as if a battering ram is smashed into it.”
“Feral ferrets then,” he suggested.
“Are you a candidate for Bedlam?” Cecilia asked.
“My professors did say I had the making of a mastermind. I am not sure if they meant that in a good way.”
She sighed, “Are we to ignore each other aside from the cordial greetings here and there? If you are going to be occupied with this outbuilding of yours, I feel like I will be left unoccupied.”
“There are numerous projects in Fitzroy Manor, in Hertfordshire, too,” Cassian reassured. “I hear there is a Coven of Witches somewhere. They might be looking for new initiates.”
Exasperated, she said, “You do not have a good opinion of me, do you?”
“On the contrary, Cecilia. I have the highest regard for you.”
“If so, then I have a few demands.”
“I’d begun to wonder when you would get to that,” he said, infuriatingly turning another page. “Which of the twelve labors of Hercules shall I be bound to today?”
“No affairs,” she ordered. “Whatever mistress or mistresses you have, they will be released.”
“I have no mistresses,” he said calmly. “Like any other obligation, a mistress is one, and I am averse to obligations.”
“I would like to point out a marriage is also an obligation,” she said pointedly. “Does your philosophy also pertain to your new wife?”
“I misspoke,” he smiled disarmingly. “A mistress is a debt, and I cannot be beholden to anyone.”
“Anymore.”
“Not at all,” he answered, setting his sights on the paper again. “Like I said, I do not keep mistresses.”
“Then what do you do for—” she paused, “—Oh, I forgot, jump out of widow’s windows at witching hour.”
“What is your next rule?” Cassian rolled his eyes.
“We sleep separately.”
“Done. And your third?”
“I think I’ll keep that one in reserve for when I know what sort of marriage I am faced with,” Cecilia said as she reached for her pearl-studded reticule and pulled out a book.
“You do not have an abundance of choice,” he reminded. “You will have five demands, and that is it. And that is fair since I have mine.”
Her fingers drummed three times on the book. “And what are those?”
“First and foremost, I do not like being addressed as ‘Your Grace’, or ‘My Lord’, or ‘Devilish Duke’, or whatever humorous moniker that your intrepid mind can come up with. Call me Cassian.”
Cecilia nodded, indicating to him that she understood, but it was not enough for him. “I need to hear you agree.”
“I will call you Cassian,” she repeated.
“Good. Now, the rest of the rules are just as simple: You may not meddle in my business or any of my past relationships by playing detective and asking my friends about them, either. My third rule is, you may not enter the outbuilding that I am refitting. That place is my hallowed sanctuary.”
She shrugged. “You will not have any disagreements from me.”
“Also, how well do you get along with dogs?” he asked.
“Dogs?” Cecilia almost jumped. “What kind of dogs?”
