Cassian pressed on. “Bread and Butter.”
Her face burned.
“Soixante-neuf.”
She wanted to collapse and die.
“Riding St. George,” Cassian’s brow ticked up expectingly.
Clapping her hands over her fiery face, Cecilia begged. “Please stop.Stop.”
“My point,” he pushed away and strode into his room, and she followed. Cassian plopped down on a chair to pluck his boots off. “Cecilia, for the last time, will you stop being a marionette and allow the human woman inside of you to come to the fore?”
He leaned into the chair and looked at her, and something ugly twisted in Cecilia’s stomach.
“I—”
He leaned forward, “Spit it out, Cecilia. Get it off your chest.”
“I—” Did she dare tell him some of her deepest secrets? “…I can’t.”
“You can’t do what?” Cassian asked easily.
Oddly enough, his even tone still felt as if he was needling her, pressing her to face old truths she did not want to confront—but the way Cassian was looking at her made irritation bubble under her skin.
“I cannot be as free as you are,” she said at last.
He slung an arm over the back of the chair and rolled his neck. “And why is that?”
“Because I cannot!” She blurted, her fists clenching by her side. “I cannot discard the rules of propriety and live as loosely and asunstable as you or any lord can do. A lord can drink and carouse and philander his way through a thousand women, and the ton will shrug and say,he is sowing his wild oats.
“’Tis a truth universally ignored that a gentleman may ruin a dozen reputations and still be invited to supper with the Prince, while a lady need only be seen smiling too freely to be cast into social exile,” Cecila finished.
Leaning forward, Cassian clasped his hands between his knees, “I am not asking you to ride into town and proposition the first man you see, Cecilia, I am asking you to peel away the façade you’ve made for yourself and allow your own deeply-buried emotions to emerge.”
“I still cannot do that!” Cecilia snapped.
“Why?” His sharp grey gaze was like a double-edged sword cutting right through her.
“Because I don’t know what I want for myself yet!” Cecilia blurted hotly. Immediately, she clamped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in horrified dismay.
The words echoed in the air and in her ears, carrying with them the jagged edge of the truths she had hidden inside for years. Cassian’s expression had not shifted one iota, and with her heart sinking to the depths of her feet, Cecilia, utterly mortified, turned and ran.
“Stop,” Cassian ordered.
She kept her back to him, “I would prefer to go and salvage the little dignity I have left.”
She heard the rustle of cloth and the soft padding of feet. Cassian gently turned her around, and the expression on his face was not the smug satisfaction she expected, but rather calm understanding.
“Believe me or not, I know that feeling,” Cassian told her. “The only difference is that my enlightenment came much earlier than yours. You do know you are allowed to be your own person and not merge into thehoi polloiexpected from you.”
His words were cold comfort, but she took them anyway.
“You may not know what you want, but I know you already know who you are, and that’s just as important,” Cassian added as he crossed the room to liberate a bottle of wine from a cupboard.
He lifted the bottle. “Do you care to share a drink with me?”
The shame of her admission still burned. “No. Thank you, but no. I require an evening alone.”
