The question had plagued him for years, even before his father had passed.
What if he, too, was capable of ruining the family as his father had done?
Crossing his arms over his chest, Tristan heaved a deep sigh that seemed to come from deep within his chest. “Your father was a drunk. I know you are well aware of the fact that he drank himself to death upon your return to London at eighteen, but he was one before that. I watched him drink for years during your absence. Your grandmother and I begged him to help us look for you, but he allowed himself to drown his sorrows instead of facing them.”
“What is your paint in reminding me of all this?” Cassian snapped, needing the conversation to be over. His father’s passing was not a memory that he relished.
“My point is, you returned and took over his title. You stepped up and helped rebuild with your grandmother. You pieced theduchy back together with your own hands. A man who took after your father would not have done any of that.”
Something in his chest stilled as Cassian looked at his friend.
Am I truly that different?
He thought of Isabella’s sister in the greenhouse and how his first inclination had been to help her. The greenhouse in question had fallen into disrepair after his father had caught him playing in there.
“How dare you defy me and break property that does not belong to you?” His father had turned him around and given him the beating of his life for breaking a window by accident.
It was only a few short years after that incident that his father’s rival had seen fit to kidnap him as revenge. He had spent three years as a captive in the Highlands of Scotland before escaping. He had not returned him immediately but had sought a different life for himself.
It was then that he found work as a carpenter, excelling at his craft.
He had been content, not happy, but content with his life, when his granddaughter had eventually tracked him down and asked him to return to London. Begrudgingly, he had accepted, but he still wished at times that he had stayed hidden in that sleepy little village.
“You are not your father, Cassian,” Tristan repeated. “Your father would not have agreed to marry a lady to save her reputation.”
“Is that a better reason than love?” Cassian snapped again, feeling the sting of his past still lingering. “Lady Isabella deserves someone who will love and adore her.”
“And you think that you do not love her?” Tristan asked bluntly.
The question threw Cassian off track as he stopped, staring blankly at Tristan for what seemed like forever.
Do I love her?
He had never been in love before, and the notion seemed utterly absurd to him. Was love not something that foolish young women dreamed of before realizing how silly the notion had been? His father had not loved his mother. At the end of the day, he had never known any couple who had claimed to love each other and made it work.
The silence dragged on for a little too long until Tristan spoke again.
“I have watched you over the past few weeks, Cassian. That woman has consumed every ounce of your being. Day and night. You have not been able to think of anything other than her since she founded that little club, along with your grandmother. Tell me if I am wrong?”
Cassian clenched his jaw.
Shaking his head, Tristan chuckled. “Do you know why I asked her to dance at that ball?” He quirked his head to the side in a question.
“Because your morals are looser than that of a prostitute?”
Throwing his head back, Tristan laughed from the pit of his stomach before being able to control himself again. “I will give you that one, Your Grace. I have bedded more women than even I can count. But do you know what all of that experience has taught me? It taught me that only a certain kind of woman will allow a man like me to bed her. I could already see from a mile away that Lady Isabella was not one of those women. She humors men out of politeness to avoid making a scene, but she will not allow just any man to get close enough to her even for a kiss.”
Cassian’s brow creased into a deep frown. “Then why did you pursue her?”
“I did notpursueher. I simply asked her to dance. The point I was trying to make is that you cared. Why would you care if she danced with me, or any other lord, for that matter, if you do not care for her? You have allowed her to crawl under your skin, and possibly even deeper than that.” Tristan finished with a sigh as if he were attempting to reach Cassian, a skill that he simply was not grasping. “Think about what I have said. I do not think that you asked Lady Isabella to marry you simply because you wished to save her reputation.” He shot Cassian a knowing look.
“Isn’t there someone that you need to be?” Cassian growled at him.
Tristan allowed the corner of his mouth to hook into a smile. “As a matter of fact, there is. I only wished to come and offer my congratulations. I shall take my leave now, but I do hope that you will stop being such a curmudgeon. As you so eloquently put earlier, Lady Isabella deserves better.” He chuckled to himself before leaving the room.
Annoyed by the insinuations that Tristan had been making, Cassian turned toward the window, looking forward to an afternoon of silence where he would be able to put his thoughts in order.
“I am glad that you are here.” His grandmother’s voice cut through the air.
