“I apologize,” Tristan chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender, drinking before he paused, as though a light had passed through his consciousness. “If I recall correctly, you just said that I should see through this. What did you mean?” He paused with the glass raised halfway to his lips again.
“Lady Isabella.” The name rolled off Cassian’s tongue without restraint, easy and smooth like a droplet of honey. Just the way he imagined her lips would taste.
Like he’d been waiting for a sliver of opportunity to say her name all this while, as though the name had haunted his sleep and the only way to appease it was to say it out loud. Perhaps then he would be able to shake her from his thoughts. Banishing her from his conscience would at least help to assuage some of his troubles.
What is becoming of me?
He berated himself for allowing her to become such a big topic in such a short lapse of time. It was almost as if she had cast a spell on him with her bewitching eyes.
Tristan’s eyebrows shot up. “Lady Isabella. Lady Isabella Hunton, the Duke of Ironstone’s eldest daughter?”
“Yes. The very same.” Cassian swallowed hard, recalling the attraction that hung in the air when he closed the distance between them. Of course, Tristan would know who she was. He had not known himself, but a quick chat with the butler and some of his staff had answered all of his questions.
“Was it her, or her twin sister?” Tristan raised his eyebrows in interest.
Almost slamming his glass down on the table, Cassian grimaced. “Good Lord, do not tell me that there are two of her walking around London? I could scarcely cope with one.”
Apparently, his servants had failed to mention that tiny detail to him.
Peals of laughter escaped Tristan’s chest as he shook his head in an attempt to stop the onslaught. “I am afraid so. She has a twin sister, but do not fret. I have it on good authority that the younger is already married.”
Thank goodness.
Cassian let out a breath of relief. He did not know how he would have coped with two defiant and fiery young sisters traversing the halls of his home. One had already enraged him; two would have spelled his doom.
His friend grinned before taking another sip of his whisky to ease his mirth. “How did she get roped into such asituation as this? And more importantly, how did you get roped into allowing it?” His eyes glinted mischievously, thoroughly enjoying Cassian’s discomfort.
“How else? She’s my grandmother’s partner in crime. They schemed together to shove me into agreeing to host the meetings at Everthorne House,” Cassian complained, his jaw tight, eyes narrowing as he recalled the encounter.
“So, Lady Kendrick didn’t use her infamous guilt-tripping methods?” Tristan added knowingly.
“Oh, she did. She very much did.” Cassian almost growled bitterly. His grandmother was notorious for pulling on his heartstrings when it suited her best.
Her first stunt that had made him privy to her methods had been when she had faked a cardiac episode. He had been of two minds about moving to London, but she had quickly persuaded him to move in with her during her illness. He had not mentioned to her that she had recovered far too quickly to make her ruse plausible. He had, after all, enjoyed living with the grandmother who had raised him like a son.
Tristan leaned back, rubbing his bottom lip with a smirk. “Well, I’ll give them credit: two ladies managing to outwit the mighty Duke of Everthorne? That’s no small feat.” He seemed impressed as he lifted his glass in a silent salute to them.
Grumbling under his breath, Cassian once again threw back the final remnants of his drink. “They did not outwit me. Isimply allowed it rather than bothering to fight it. I have bigger concerns than halting the social progression of eager young ladies.”
The corner of Tristan’s mouth hooked into a teasing smile. “And would one of those matters be finding a wife?”
Cassian’s fingers instantly tightened around the glass, threatening to crack it if he applied even an ounce more pressure. “You know very well that I do not wish to take a wife.” He let go of the glass for fear of breaking it.
Tristan sighed heavily. “I know, I was just hoping that you had perhaps changed your mind. Life can be a lot more fun when you let go of the past. Take it from me, even if you do not wish to marry, indulging young ladies can be a great deal of fun.” He winked conspiratorially before smiling.
Silence filled the air as the sounds of the patrons in the bar faded into the background.
Fun?
There was nothing fun about the nightmares that plagued him in the dead of night. His past had made it almost impossible for him to move on, and he refused to drag another person into the abyss alongside him.
Tristan drew his attention back to the present with another defeated sigh. “Just consider my words, Your Grace. LadyIsabella could provide you with a much-needed distraction. And who knows, she could be the very person that sways your decision to be celibate for the rest of your life.” He swung his legs around, spinning himself on the stool before leaning back and resting his elbows on the table behind him.
Cassian didn’t respond; his attention elsewhere, the memory of Isabella and the Dowager’s ploy replaying in sharp relief.
There was no chance that any woman on earth would be able to change his mind. Yet he would have to put up with the woman until his grandmother came forward with her scheme.
He had asked his grandmother the day after the fencing competition if she had sent a young lady to his workshop. She had denied it, of course, yet the way she and Lady Isabella interacted suggested otherwise.
