“Perhaps,” Brandon suggested, ‘you should consider what you want, rather than what your grandmother wants.”
“And what if they are not the same?” George said quietly.
Brandon smiled, almost kindly.
“Then for once, you might be living your own life.”
George looked into his glass, knowing that his friend was right. For the first time, the possibility did not feel out of reach.
If anything, it felt necessary.
Chapter Thirteen
“You must ignore them.”
Cassandra knew it was the case, of course, but that did not make it any easier to ignore the fact that Sylvia and the Dowager clearly hated her. She did not quite know what it was that she had seemingly done, but they did not want her around, and there would be no changing it.
Fortunately, Philippa was proving to be good to her about it. If she was to be the only Sherton that was pleased to have her around, then she could almost accept it.
Even so, that did not mean she wanted to be the Duke’s bride.
“It is rather difficult to ignore them,” she sighed as she sat with Philippa in the garden that morning. “Each time we have an activity, your grandmother seems set on Lady Sylvia being the one that His Grace is paired with. You cannot tell me that it is not deliberate.”
“I know, and I will not. The truth is that– well, I imagine that my brother has already told you.”
“Yes, that your grandmother has expectations for the future Duchess of Sherton, and I do not meet them?”
“Did he say that?” she asked in surprise.
“Not in so many words, but I knew what he meant.”
“Well, it is not quite like that. You see, my father had a friendship with Sylvia’s father, and though it remained both unspoken and unwritten, there was always the expectation that George would choose her when finding his bride. We have always thought that that was what would happen.”
“And then I came along.”
“And then you came along,” Philippa echoed, laughing softly. “But if it helps you at all, you should know that I am pleased that you are here. I have never liked Sylvia very much.”
“Then at least you are pleased enough with the arrangement, I suppose.”
“Are you not?”
“It is not that I am displeased, rather that I never saw myself as a wife. I was perfectly content to be a spinster, and then I agreed tomarry without falling in love, the one thing I swore to never do, and now… Now I shall have to live as a perfect lady at all times, under constant scrutiny as I attempt in vain to reach a standard that is impossible.”
They were both quiet for a moment.
Suddenly, it was broken by Lady Sylvia’s bright laugh echoing across the grounds. Both ladies looked over to see her on the Duke’s arm, as they stood in a small group. They were close enough that Cassandra could hear them, and though she did not want to hear any of it, there was a part of her that was relieved to, for once, know precisely what was being discussed.
“His Grace has always had exceptional aim,” Sylvia said warmly. “Even as a boy. There was never a skill he did not master.”
Cassandra felt it immediately; the tightening in her chest, the familiar irritation she had hoped she was done indulging. Of course she would praise him, of course it would be the sort of thing gentlemen wanted to hear about themselves. She kept her expression neutral, though her fingers tightened on her skirts.
Philippa noticed.
“You do not like her either, then,” Philippa said quietly.
Cassandra glanced at her, surprised.
“Is it so obvious?”
