“Has the Duke been this way?” Cassandra asked.
“I believe His Grace is here somewhere, yes.”
She continued on toward the walkway. It occurred to her then, with a sudden, unwelcome clarity, that this was not entirely a coincidence. He was moving as deliberately as she was, and the thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.
She paused at a window, steadying herself, forcing her thoughts into order. She did not care whether he was looking for her. That was irrelevant. She needed to speak to him because she had decided to act, and that would remain unchanged.
Still, as she resumed her search, she could not quite banish the awareness that somewhere else in the house, at that very moment, the Duke of Sherton was doing the same thing.
Cassandra walked farther into the gardens than she had intended.
She followed the curve of the path until they suddenly came into view — the Duke and Sylvia, engaged in a conversation she could not hear.
Cassandra paused. Of course. She had spent the better part of the morning searching for her betrothed, only to discover that she was hardly the only woman intent on claiming his attention.
A small, unwelcome sting settled in her chest. She did not know what passed between them, nor did she care to assume — butshe disliked, intensely, being one among many orbiting the same man.
Not knowing what else to do, she left for the paddock. The horses stood calm behind their fences, shifting their weight, tails flicking, breath steaming faintly in the morning light. One lifted its head as she approached, dark eyes steady and intelligent. Another stamped, impatient but contained.
Cassandra slowed her steps. She had never been afraid of horses. She had ridden enough to understand them, enough to respect the strength they possessed. They were not wild creatures here — they were trained, restrained — and that knowledge stirred something restless within her.
She rested her hands on the fence rail and exhaled slowly.
A sudden thought took hold before she could examine it too closely. She could ride. Just for a moment. Just to feel movement that was not dictated by anyone else.
Her gaze followed the line of the gate. The bolt was simple, easily lifted. She hesitated only briefly before sliding it back.
The nearest horse startled at the unexpected freedom. Instead of waiting for her, it surged forward, hooves striking the earth, and bolted past her into the open stretch beyond.
Cassandra froze. Then she watched it run.
The sight of it — uncontained, powerful, choosing its own direction — struck her harder than she anticipated. Something tightened in her chest.
Before reason could return, she moved again. One latch, then another. If one could run, why not the rest?
She told herself she would gather them. She told herself it could still be contained. But as the paddock dissolved into motion and thunder, another thought slipped in — quiet, dangerous.
If she could not free herself, she could at least free something.
Chapter Eleven
“Releasing the horses was a very bad idea,” Athena said as soon as she heard.
Cassandra, seated at the small writing desk by the window, did not look up.
“I know.”
“You could have been discovered.”
“I know that as well.”
“That does not make it any less reckless.”
Cassandra’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk before she finally turned.
“I did not mean for it to become… that,” she said quietly. “I only wanted to ride. For a moment. I wanted to feel as though I were choosing something for myself.”
Athena studied her. “And did you?”
