Cassian hoped that she would not mind too terribly if she did not have a purpose.
“But I thought that?—”
“You are not allowed,” he said simply. “I am forbidden to let you even try.”
“Is that to say that you have someone to answer to? I had never thought that a duke had to do that.”
“Then you thought wrong,” he said sharply. “And it is not that I have anyone to answer to. It is simply that—you will see soon enough.”
It was difficult for him to understand her. There were moments where he was convinced that she was afraid of him, and others where she seemed more than happy to tell him how she felt.
He had to admit that he liked those moments, those glimpses of personhood that she let slip through. But he did not know what she thought of her new home.
He watched as she studied the dreaded west wing, the charred skeleton with ivy crawling up it. He could barely stand to look at it, but she could not seem to look away.
“You will never go there,” he ordered. “Nobody does.”
“Will you ever rebuild it?”
He shook his head firmly. “It is enough that it remains there. Come, I made sure to arrive while the servants are sleeping. It makes it easier.”
“Easier?”
“We need not endure the introductions. It has been a long day; I did not want you to feel compelled to play the part.”
“I can assure you that I am not playing any part in anything. I am perfectly content to be a duchess and to carry out my new duties.”
“It won’t be necessary,” he insisted.
He did not want it to become a discussion. He simply wanted her to accept his decision and follow him inside. They would sleep, and then they would talk further once he had rested.
“Very well,” she whispered.
They made for the front steps.
It had rained recently, Cassian could tell. The stairs were slick. They should have been scrubbed, for green moss had begun to spread across them, but his servants knew not to touch them unless he gave express permission.
Now that he had a wife, it was time to take slightly more pride in his estate. But what remained of the other part would not be touched. He could not allow that.
A cold gust of wind blew, and when Adelaide turned to face away from it, she stumbled, slipping on the wet stone beneath her. Instinctively, Cassian reached out, catching her waist and pulling her up.
He had underestimated how slight she was, however, for he used too much strength, causing her to collide with him. He froze for a moment, her body pressed against his as she looked up at him in surprise.
But the worst part was the fear in her eyes. He knew that he was an imposing man, one with a large build and a stern voice, but he had hoped that she knew he would never use it against her.
“Do not fear me,” he said in as soft a voice as he could muster. “I will never hurt you, Adelaide. Nor will I raise my voice to you. That is not who I am.”
Adelaide seemed to steady herself, her breath clouding in the cold air. With a slow nod, she followed him inside.
He watched as she studied the interior, a stark contrast to the ashes outside. It was too polished, too perfect, as though one would make a mess by simply walking through it. He caught her looking over her shoulder to check if she had left footprints.
“This is your home now,” he said. “I will show you to your room.”
“Thank you. Has it always looked so… pristine?”
“Indeed. As I do not touch the exterior, the servants have more time to spend inside. They like to keep it to this standard. They seem to think that I would scold them otherwise. Though if you ask me—” He stopped himself.
The truth was, the servants would be scolded, but not by him. He was aware that Adelaide would have to meether, and soon, but he wanted to delay it for a while longer. It was a lot to place on a young lady’s shoulders, and he wanted her to at least be rested.
