“You do not know me! You do not know me at all, no matter how much you might like to pretend that you do. Leave me alone.”
“So that you can prepare for the sham wedding tomorrow?” he asked, his grip on her tightening as he leaned down.
His lips brushed her ear, and her skin began to crawl. She did not want to be there. She did not want to listen to his sly words and suffer his disgusting demeanor. She wanted to leave, to board a carriage and forget that all of her troubles existed.
“You know,” he whispered, “I could save you from this arrangement. All that is needed is one person to walk through that door, and you are compromised.”
“I would rather be ruined.”
“Very well, that may also be arranged if you wish. Frankly speaking, I do not care how you feel. I am the only man to have ever wanted you, Lady Cassandra. Do not forget that.”
But the Duke wanted her, Cassandra knew it. If he did not, he would not have gone to such lengths to have her. He would have abandoned her just as he had Lady Sylvia, would he not?
Her eyes fell on the door, and she tried in vain to steady her breathing. Lashton was vile, but he was correct; if they wereseen, she would have no choice. When the door opened, she hoped that she had imagined it, and that her eyes were playing tricks on her from her panic.
But she had not.
The Duke stormed toward them, his face like thunder. At last, Lashton released her with a grin on his face, as though there could not have been a better person to see them.
“Your Grace,” he said in mock surprise, “I–”
But the Duke had already shoved him to the floor, taking Cassandra by the shoulders in a deceptively tender way. She waited for it, the barrage of insults that he had waiting for her. He would accuse her of being everything grandmother thought of her. What else, she considered, could he possibly have thought?
“Are you all right?” he asked firmly.
“Your Grace, I am so sorry. It is not what you think, I–”
“I did not ask what happened. I asked if you are all right.”
“I am,” she replied simply.
“Good. Has this rotten excuse for a man hurt you in any way?”
“He may have left some marks on my arms, but other than that I am well, especially now that you are here.”
“Good,” he repeated, calling out to a maid. “Take Lady Cassandra to her room for a moment, if you will. I am going to see my grandmother, and I expect her to be watched over in my absence.”
He did not leave any room for Cassandra to argue. She left in an instant and was taken to her room, the maid waiting by the door outside. She, meanwhile, paced the floor and wondered what he was speaking to his grandmother about. She had not known where he was that day, and for all she knew he could well have been trying to find a way to cancel the wedding at such short notice.
There had been a time when she liked the person that she was, and she did not doubt herself, but that had changed. She had begun to question everything, and that did not end with herself.
Chapter Eighteen
George no longer had any patience for his grandmother.
He had turned a blind eye to it all for years. She was cruel at times, but he and Philippa had agreed to never say a word about it. She had suffered, they said, and so they would let it pass without any upset.
But she had hurt Lady Cassandra, and that changed everything. He stormed into the drawing room only to see her looking shocked, but that did not change his feelings. He was furious, and it would take enough effort to control his temper, leaving very little for consoling her after whatever had happened.
“I am not going to fall for that,” he said coldly. “What did you do?”
“I do not know what you are referring to.”
“Lashton. He is here, and I did not invite him, and I know that Philippa did not, so why is he here?”
“Is it a crime to invite someone to an event?”
“Enough,” he snapped.
