“And yet, he has decided to marry me. Why can you not see that this is what he wants?”
“Because you are the exception to the rule. I know my son. I know that he is not the sort of man to be misled and guided, but you are not like those other ladies that simper. You have done something to him, and I may not know what, but I know it was something, and you will never get away with it.”
“Is that what you think?” Cassandra asked, almost laughing. “Do you truly think that I am so determined to be a duchess that I would ensnare him somehow? I shall speak very plainly to you, Your Grace. I do not need to marry your son in order to be happy, and do you know what? I think that is precisely why he took a liking to me to begin with.”
“He–”
“And you cannot stand that, can you? You cannot fathom that he might have made a decision for himself, and that no matter how improper you are in your efforts to sway him, you have failed. It is for the best that you let us both be, and stop with this nonsense. He has made his decision.”
For a moment, the Dowager said nothing. Her eyes were wide, and her hands were balled into such tight fists that her knuckles were turning white, but she did not say anything. Cassandra held her gaze with as sharp an eye as she could fathom, for though she did not want to appear frightened, she was.
“Do you honestly want this marriage?”
Cassandra did not know what to say to that. The truth was that she did, but that was not for the reason that the Dowager thought, and she did not know how to explain it.
“It is none of your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. You wish to marry my grandson, to sire the heir to my family name, and I have a right to expect you to want to be part of the marriage. Not only that, but you act as though I am awful for being wary of you, but if you truly were happy then my opinion would not change anything, and if you did not want the match then you would have left the arrangement by now. So tell me, why are you here?”
“I– I shall have you know that I do not care at all what you think. If I did, I would have said as much by now. I may not understand why you hate me, but–”
“I would be more than happy to tell you, if you wish. The truth, Lady Cassandra, is that you are useless. You are not to the standard of a duchess, and you enjoy it. You have made every effort in society to be precisely what a gentleman does not want, and in that case you have succeeded, but what you have forgotten is that gentlemen have mothers, and you have ruined yourself in their eyes too.”
“That is hardly fair.”
But the Dowager had raised a hand up to her, silencing her at once.
“Not only will I make every effort for you to not marry my grandson, but you will soon also find that you cannot marry anyone at all. If you wish to believe that I have a vendetta against you, then I will not convince you otherwise. Frankly speaking, I have little interest in doing so. I have made my thoughts known,and you will not change my mind. You are not good enough, not for my son, and not for any man.”
And, in spite of that being precisely what Cassandra had always wanted for herself, it made her heart ache. She had been convinced for years that she wanted nothing more than to be undesirable in order to keep the gentlemen away, but she had found one that she would have rather liked to spend her life with, if she had to.
And she had ruined it for herself.
“Very well,” she replied quietly. “I will not try to convince you, for you seem to be set in your ways. You can want another wife for your grandson all you like, but you seem to forget your place every bit as much as I do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” the Dowager asked, laughing at the very thought of it.
“You are not a duke. You are a dowager, and therefore you have no control. You can try to influence the Duke, but he has made his choice, and that choice was made without any care for your feelings. You matter as much as I do, Your Grace.”
She turned before another word could be said. She felt cruel saying it, for she knew that the Dowager had suffered, but there was only so much that she could take before she had to say something in return. It was not in her nature to be unkind, and she did not relish what she had done, but she hoped that somewhere along the way, it made a difference.
She doubted it, however.
The hallway was cold, and the air was harsh against her flushed cheeks, which she noticed were damp as she pressed the back of her hand to them. She had never felt so low in her life, even after so many years of trying to ruin herself. It was strange, for it was precisely how she had wanted to be perceived, but she no longer wanted it. She wished that she was like the Dowager’s precious Lady Sylvia; the beautiful daughter of a duke, elegant and graceful and talented in ways that Cassandra could only have dreamed of being.
“Cassandra?”
She turned sharply to see Lashton standing there, and at once her hairs stood on end.
“Do not call me that,” she whispered.
“My apologies, but you look so terribly unhappy.”
He came toward her, reaching out and holding her arms, and though her instinct was to struggle and pull away she could not. She was frozen, exhausted from her conversation and wishing that she was anywhere else but there.
“I am perfectly fine, my lord.”
“But you are not. Come now, Lady Cassandra. We all know that you are unhappy, and that you do not want this marriage. Youcan pretend to be pleased with it all that you like, but I know you.”
