“That is yet to be determined.”
She squeezed his hands, then kissed him on the cheek before leaving Cassian alone in the parlor.
They likely would have saved Nina without his insistence, so that was not a certainty.
He blew out a sigh. It was more likely that he was needed to save Nina so that she would wed her destined mate, Orion Drakos, which changed nothing for where Cassian found himself now—in a position that did not allow him to pursue Samantha.
Samantha was not one to eavesdrop on others. Besides, she really did not need to go out of her way to do so. At least, not to hear a person’s music, but their words were sometimes hidden. And, she would not have attempted to eavesdrop today but as she passed the door to the parlor where Lady St. Alban and Cassian were having a private conversation, she heard Lady St. Alban’s sadness in her music.
Why was she upset? Had something happened to someone?
“You are not simply Mr. Jourdain, you are a lord, Comte de Rohan.”
Samantha’s eyes widened as the words bled through the door.
“It is an empty title as there is no wealth and even if I do manage to retain the land, it is impoverished.”
“The title is still yours and you should use it.”
Oh, she wanted to learn more, but footsteps approached so Samantha rushed to the dining room to break her fast. Few residents were awake this early, and she was grateful that nobody had yet come in to break their fast, which offered her time with her private thoughts.
Why was Lady St. Alban sad? Was it for Cassian? If so, why?
Why did Cassian deny who he was?
And how did a comte come to live in England and be raised by a British earl and his wife?
Oh, she wished that she could ask someone, but if she did, they would want to know how she came about her information and then she would need to admit that she was eavesdropping, thus losing the trust of everyone.
The fact that he was a comte changed nothing in how she felt about Cassian. She had visited London and enjoyed enough Seasons to know that a title was not nearly as important as the person who possessed it or their character. She already liked Cassian and he could be a poor, destitute, distant relative of Lady St. Alban and Samantha would still care for him.
Oh, she did not want to care for Cassian as deeply as she did, but there was no changing her heart. She would simply have to live with that fact, even if it meant he never returned her affection and she lived as a spinster for the rest of her life, for she doubted that anyone else would come along that she could care for more than him.
Which also meant that her soul would spend yet another life looking for her mate.
Her appetite abandoned her before she could finish what she had placed on her plate, so Samantha rose from the table to make her way to the music room. Normally she would remain to converse with the others as they came in, but her mood was not as it should be and she certainly did not want Antonia noticing any change in her aura.
However, when Samantha settled behind the piano, she could not play either. Her own emotions were too much of a jumble to be mindful and she feared that what she inwardly experienced would be released in the notes, thus affecting everyone within the manor.
Instead, she sat there and stared at the music, questions unanswered, unrequited infatuation, and uncertain what to do.
“Samantha, are you in here?” Petra called right before she opened the door to the music room.
After she stepped in and looked around, she frowned. “You are alone?”
“Why would I not be?”
“It is not important.” She lifted her shoulders then let them drop as she let out a sigh.
“Are the two of you coming with us?” Cassian smiled as he strolled into the music room. His mood had certainly improved since she saw him storm across the Sacred Grove this morning. Had it anything to do with his conversation with Lady St. Alban?
Again, another question she could not ask.
“I am, but I have not yet asked Samantha,” Petra answered.
“Where are you going?” Samantha inquired as she rose from her seat and walked around the piano.
“We are off to cut the mistletoe, greenery and the yule log.” Petra grinned.
