She knew she should have been annoyed at being left alone; however, she wasn’t. Many in society would consider it the height of rudeness. She actually welcomed the opportunity to relax and prepare for the evening’s social niceties. She hadn’t been out in society often since her husband died almost eighteen months ago. Her brother’s bringing her with him to this dinner was his way of encouraging her to be more relaxed in company once again now that her strict mourning period had ended.
She didn’t know if anything would get her to relax anymore. Not truly. Too many memories. Too many nightmares.—And too much disbelief from others.
Cassandra picked up a book sitting on the table next to the sofa. A paper knife lay next to it, alluding to the book’s new condition; however, Cassandra surmised someone must have already read it for all the page leaves had been cut.
The book‘The Mysterious Game’by Anonymous listed ‘Merriman’ as the publisher at the base of the cover. The binding was a beautiful dark blue leather with a smooth, almost buttery feel, she thought as she ran her fingertips over the book. Gold-stamped lettering and gold-stamped leaves forming a frame on the front and spine of the book silently spoke of a high-priced book.
She had read little since Richard had died. Idly, she wondered why. She used to love reading.
As she flipped through a few of the pages, she noted dark and mysterious descriptions. The frontispiece engraving of a decrepit castle on a cliff reminded her of Baydon Castle, the Darkford ancestral home in the Mendip Hills.
A Gothic novel, she thought with a wry smile.
The door to the Lady Margaret parlor opened and Lady Guinevere returned.
“Sorry to be so long. I got into a conversation with my brother. Sometimes he can be so maddening!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. She crossed the room and casually flopped down into the chair across from Cassandra, although dressed elegantly for dinner.
Lady Guinevere did not display the formal behavior of a duke’s daughter. She eschewed it, Cassandra decided, from the few times she’d been in company with her. The tall, flame-haired woman was built with Junoesque proportions. She was not fat. She was just… large statured. Cassandra had never met a woman of Lady Guinevere’s formidable size. Perhaps that was why she adopted a hoydenish manner, to ease the effect of her size on others. It was most likely also why, though a wealthy duke’s daughter, at eight-and-twenty, she remained unwed.
Cassandra laughed. “I know what you mean about maddening brothers, as I have one of those, too. But I didn’t mind being alone,” she assured her. “I was looking at this book.”
Lady Guinevere straightened. “Yes, it is the latestAnonymousbook from the Merriman publisher.”
“A Gothic novel?” Cassandra asked. “I’ve heard Gothics are all the rage.”
Lady Guinevere nodded. “Quite exciting, full of evil and danger for the poor heroine,” she said dramatically, then grinned and laughed. “I’ll own I was up late last night to finish it. I could not put it down, and I know who the author is!”
Cassandra looked at her in surprise. She’d never known an author before. “Who is it?” she asked. “Someone in society?”
“I cannot tell you. I am sworn to secrecy. You should read it. You may borrow my copy,” Lady Guinevere said, pointing to the book in Cassandra’s hand.
“Perhaps,” Cassandra said slowly. She paged idly through the book, reading a paragraph here and there. “The tone is definitely scary,” she noted. And she did not like scary. She’d lived scary. She needed nothing to add to the nightmares she had experienced since the night her husband died. As it was, her husband’s uncle and aunt said they feared for her sanity and the safety of her son.
She’d even heard their whispered talk of sending her to an asylum. That frightened her more than the nightmares. If she were locked away, they would be Alex’s sole guardians and they could pillage the marquessate. The only reason they hadn’t yet, was the support she received from her late husband’s cousin, Raymond Stillworth, and their fear of her brother Miles, the Duke of Ellinbourne.
Maybe… Maybe… reading a book such as this could be cathartic. A way to release the demon nightmares that endlessly gripped her.
She flipped to another page that opened easily to a chapter fronted with another engraving, this one of a woman tied to a table or altar. She bit her lip at the picture. It represented too many nightmares. She started reading.
“What?” she breathed in surprise at the words on the page.
Lady Guinevere looked over at her.
Cassandra’s brow furrowed as she read. She quickly turned the page.
“No!” she cried, horrified. Her stomach churned and pushed acid into her throat, burning.
The door to the parlor opened.
“No!” she said louder, surging to her feet, quivering uncontrollably. She threw the book across the room. Her slender chest rose and fell rapidly. She raised a trembling hand to her lips.
“No!” she cried again, softer. She looked wide-eyed at Lady Guinevere and then toward the door where Lord Lakehurst stood. Her breathing ragged, she sank down on the sofa, covering her face with her hands, tears trailing down her cheeks.
Lady Guinevere rushed to her side and put an arm around her.
“I’m sorry the book upset you,” Lady Guinevere said. She and her brother exchanged confused looks.
Cassandra shook her head, though she continued to cover her face with her hands as she squeezed her eyes tight against her tears.
