He scoffed and scowled like a petulant child.
“You can forget it.”
“Matthew!”
“No!” he spat. “How many times do I need to say this before you understand? You are not a commodity to be sold and bought. I won’t be taking anyoffersfor you, and I am not giving my blessing toanyman unless I am sure to my soul that he will make you happy, keep you comfortable, keep you safe, andloveyou. That’s the bare minimum, Cassandra! Have some self-respect and hold higher standards.”
Cassandra reeled back as if he had struck her.
“Self-respect?! Love! Neither of those will settle our accounts! This isn’t only about me, you need to think of Caroline!”
“Ionlythink of you and Caroline! Every second of every day! Why do you think I’m doinganyof this? Do you think I’ve been working my hands down to bone because I enjoy it? No! I’m doing this for you!”
“I can take care of myself! Even if you win this contest—”
“WhenI win, Cassandra!” Matthew shouted. He yanked his sleeve away, nearly knocking her off the bench. Moonlight glinted dangerously off his eyes as they met hers. “WhenI win, Caroline will be taken care of!Youwill be taken care of! Our accounts will be taken care of! Your dowries be so outrageous that you’ll be able to marry whoever you choose! Neither of you will have to settle forwhoever will have you. That is myjob! To take care of you! I promised!” He took a shuddering breath, leaned his elbows onto his knees, and cradled his head in his hands.
“I promised our parents that I would take care of you, sister.” His voice cracked. “How can I expect to face them one day if I can’t honor that promise? How do you expect me to look you in the eye if I marry you off to be undervalued, or mistreated? For money. How can you ask that of me?”
“Brother…” Cassandra’s voice trailed away from her.
“Please.” His voice shook, small and desperate. “Please let metryto fix things my way. I’msoclose. I’m not going to fail, Ipromise. I know it’s been hard, and I’ve asked so much of you. But just this once, can’t you try to believe in me?”
Cassandra’s heart sank. They were sitting in the garden that their mother had planted herself every year, on the wrought-iron bench that their father had built. They were here in this place of love and peace, and they were fighting. She wondered how her parents would feel if they could see them now.
Tentatively, she placed her hand on Matthew’s back. His skin was tight over his bones, and his shirt was loose. He had been skippingmeals again. What type of sister was she that she hadn’t noticed how thin he was becoming?
“I do believe in you.” She leaned her head against him.
“We have something that no one else has.” Matthew was barely audible with his head still sheltered in his arms. “We’ll win. I’ll keep my promises. All of them. And it’ll be worth whatever price I have to pay to do it.”
Cassandra wrapped the blanket around the two of them. They sat in silence as his breathing evened. She had never seen Matthew cry before. It hadn’t occurred to her how much he had been carrying. Matthew had set a grueling pace, exuding confidence with every step. Nothing seemed to bother him, and he never said otherwise.
What else was he keeping to himself?
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She thread her hand underneath his and gave it a squeeze. “I’m frightened, a bit.”
“It’s all right to be afraid, Cassandra. I am too. But it’ll turn out.” Matthew turned his head to look at her, meeting her eyes earnestly. “You aren’t cattle to me, sister. You’re precious to me, you and Caroline. You might not have high hopes about the future, but I do. Why are you afraid?”
I’m afraid that you’ll fail, that we both will. That by the end of the year we’ll have lost the entire estate to creditors. That Caroline will enter adulthood penniless, unable to marry well—if at all—because of our family’s status and shame. What will we do then, Matthew?
But Cassandra already knew the answer.
There was no back-up plan.
“To be back in society,” she lied instead, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She looked down at her brother’s bare feet on the ground and struggled for words. “I’ve likely forgotten how to dance. I’m not talented with musical instruments, or foreign languages. I’ve been away from society for so long that I doubt I’ll remember how tohave a civil conversation.”
The last time she had been out in society, she was a young debutante with a sparkle in her eyes, walking on clouds. She knew how to dress, even with their modest means, and how to flirt. She had no issue filling her dance card, and at one point a gentleman had asked for her parent’s permission to court her. If not for their deaths, she might be married to him now.
Colonel Adam Bishop.
How would it feel to be near him again? Would that same spark be there? Would he still be interested once he realized what she was now? Changed. Damaged. The clouds that she walked on had burst, revealing her sunshine world for what it was—a callous and cold place where people she loved could die in an instant. With that knowledge, how was she supposed to open her heart to that pain?
I’m broken.
“You’re worrying over nothing, again,” Matthew drawled. “Believe it or not, gentlemen don’t concern themselves with fashion and musical aptitude. You are a skilled dancer, you haven’t forgotten. You don’t need to know any foreign languages. I can’t imagine that you’ll be having many conversations in French or German at the hunting party. And as far as speaking to others goes, you’ll be fine. You have conversations with us all the time.”
“I said acivilconversation. Ours are feral,” she said pointedly. “I’ve spoken to only a handful of people in years. I’m going to trip over my tongue. How can I expect to find a husband if I can’t talk to him?”
