Sincerely,
Adelaide Blackmoor.
It felt strange to write her new surname for the first time. She had almost written her maiden name, and had to stop herself.
It felt odd to be someone else, and in truth, she simply did not feel like a Blackmoor. The only Blackmoors she had met were strange and unreadable, and she was not like that. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, or at least that was how she saw herself.
She sanded the letter, folded it, then sealed it, intending to send it after.
Later that day, she found Cassian in the drawing room. She opened her mouth to ask him about visitors, but her throat closed up, as if it were a terrible idea.
“Are you all right?” he asked, faint concern etched into his features. “You seem unwell. Did my mother do something?”
“Not at all,” she said quickly. “I was actually hoping to ask you for something.”
“Very well. What is it?”
“Well, we did not discuss receiving visitors. I know that the circumstances are not ideal, but I would very much like to see my friends. I thought we might host them for a while?”
She waited for his expression to harden, mirroring his mother’s. She waited for him to sternly tell her that it would never be possible, and to never expect it. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully, before rising to his feet.
He approached her, towering over her in a way that made her heart skip a beat.
“Send the invitations,” he said in a low voice, “and I shall see what can be done.”
CHAPTER 13
Cassian wished he knew why he so easily gave in to his wife’s demand.
He was supposed to be cold to her, as unfeeling as he could muster. Plus, he knew that it was not a good idea to have other people over. And yet she had asked him, and he had promised to do what he could.
Perhaps, he reasoned as he arrived at his mother’s door, he wanted to appear as a good husband. He had done enough unfair things, and it was preferable for his mother to take the fall for hurting Adelaide. It did not matter, after all, whether or not he was happy for her friends to visit. All that mattered was what his mother thought of it.
“Come in,” she called.
He pushed the door open to be greeted by her scowling face. He took a breath and approached her, trying as always to ignore the way her upper lip curled at the sight of him.
“Hello, Mother.”
“I did not ask for you to visit me today.”
“No, I know. I was hoping that I might ask you something.”
“And I was hoping you would not,” she grumbled, before waving her hand dismissively. “Go on, say what you must.”
“I thought you might like some time away. You have not been anywhere in years.”
She eyed him carefully. He knew that she saw through him; she always did. She knew that he had other reasons for asking.
“Your wife wants to get rid of me, yes?”
“Not at all. This was my idea, and she does not even know that I am asking you.”
“You must take me for a fool. She has already asked me why I’m staying here.”
“Well, you have to admit that it is strange. You hate it here.”
“And who will watch over you? You have always been so ungrateful, Cassian. You need me here.”
