Amused, Cecilia said, “You’ve never touched a pistol in your life.”
“I’d find a way to injure him,” Rosie huffed. “Right where it hurts too.”
A resounding crash had all three of their heads turning to the window, and while two maids came in with their trays of refreshments, Cecilia went to the window and looked out.
Cassian was at it again, taking a sledgehammer to the outdoors room, the tails of the loose shirt he wore over the faded tan breeches flapping in the wind. By his side, one of his hounds, Cerberus, was playing amid a pile of leaves. He straightened to whisk sweat away from his forehead and slid the hammer down so he held it just under the head.
“What in heaven’s name is he doing?” Rosie gawked, her face showing complete mystification.
“He is… renovating it,” Cecilia murmured.
“Byhimself?” Rosie spluttered. “He does know that there are people who are willing, knowledgeable, and who excel in such things, yes?”
“He does,” Cecilia replied. “But he is determined to do it himself, and honestly, I don’t mind. I firmly believe he should have all the hobbies he loves to give him some purpose outside of the study and meetings.”
“That’s all well and good,” Emma said behind them as she made her tea. “What are we going to do about His Grace?”
Reluctantly, she turned from the window and joined Emma, while Rosie joined her last. “We are not going to do anything. Well, you two are not,” Cecilia amended. “I’ll handle this.”
Placing her teaspoon on her saucer, Rosie reached over and held Cecilia’s hand. “How, dear? How are you going to fight it?”
Cecilia wanted to tell them about the plan to find this woman Gabriel had a child with—but since that rumor was somewhat unfounded, she held back.
“I am going to… talk with him,” she said at last. “If he has any decency and dignity as I believed he once had, he will refrain.”
“And if not?” Emma furrowed her brows. “If he continues.”
“I’ll get the courts involved,” she said decisively. “I don’t want to, but if I must, I will.”
“It will be the legal version of what happened between your husband and Whitmore at Whites,” Rosie sighed. “Town will have enough gossip fodder for months.”
A horrendous crash outside had Cecilia darting up and hastening to the window, her heart in her throat. Cassian was standing on the roof, the hammer in hand beside a now gaping hole, and she melted against the windowsill, trying to dispel the image of his mangled body lying broken on the ground.
“Oh, thank god,” Cecilia whispered.
She watched as Cassian plucked his shirt tail up and wiped his forehead before he shouted to someone, most likely the footman helping him remove the rubble, before he climbed down the ladder at the side of the wall.
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned to find Emma standing near her. Her expression was neutral as she watched on; gently, she turned to Cecilia.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see the day of you caring for the well-being of the one man you once claimed was your worst enemy,” Emma said calmly.
Keeping her eyes fixed on Cassian, Cecilia said, “He is not the man I thought he was.”
“You are telling us he is not the rakehell he has assured all of London he is?” Rosie asked from behind them. “I find that hard to believe.”
Resting her hand on her middle, Cecilia said, “He created a façade for people to see instead of showing his real personality. He is not boisterous, not loud—he loves to work with his hands and play with his dogs.”
“Aside from the reports of his philandering, it seems that we do not know him at all,” Emma chimed in. “Is he treating you well, though?”
“Very,” Cecilia told no lies. “He is no prince, but I will take the dark knight that he is.”
“Will you tell him about what Whitmore is doing?” Emma asked as they returned to the table and tea. “I think if he is ready to plant a facer on Whitmore, I am sure he would take this battle on for you, too.”
“I know,” Cecilia nodded somberly. “But this time, I need to fight my own battles. I was the fool who thought Gabriel was my future, and now, all I wish is to put him in my past.”
“Well, if you need any help, you know we will do all we can,” Rosie assured.
“I do,” Cecilia replied, then turned to Emma. “Why did Earl Somerton come to you instead of telling Cassian? I imagine the first thing he would do is alert his client and friend.”
