Her cheeks colored and she looked away. “That is… it is not so simple as that.” She prayed silently that he would not press her further.
“I know the reason,” he said with a grin. “I must have insisted. Yes, so besotted was I by you that I did not care about your birth.”
She said nothing, not wanting to encourage him. But again, she was reminded of the tight line on which she walked, that soon the truth would be revealed, and that once it was, there would be no escaping what she had done.
After their lunch, they spent the rest of the day walking the manor.
“It is so strange…” Cassian and Isolde stood before a large family portrait; it was almost as big as she was, and it featured Cassian with his mother, his father, and his younger brother. Cassian himself was just a boy of maybe ten. “I know that is me and yet…” A shake of the head. “Somehow, it looks like a stranger.”
“What of your brother?”
A shake of the head. “I will have to ask Mr. Pemberton about him. He did not mention that I had one.”
“What of your father and mother?” she asked. “Do they…”
“Nothing.” He narrowed his eyes as he looked closer. “They are strangers to me. My mother…” He indicated to the woman. She was a frail thing, almost as small as a child. “She looks sick. I wonder if she was.”
Isolde laughed softly. “I think she might have preferred to be called delicate.”
“My father, however…” His eyes narrowed further on his father. The man in the portrait looked strikingly similar to Cassian. Only, the old Cassian. His dark eyes, his darker features, and a look of menace and power that could be felt through the painting. “I sense that I might not have liked him so much.”
“Oh?”
“Well, look at him,” Cassian said to her. “He is intimidating, no?”
She shrugged. “He is your father. I am sure you loved him.”
“Maybe…” He continued to look at his father, and he gave no sense that he might be a man who Cassian had ever loved. Nor did the man in the portrait look like one who wanted such a thing.
They spent the rest of the day looking at various portraits of family members through the ages. Time and time again, Cassian would stop and stare and Isolde could see the frustration in him. He was clearly embarrassed that he could not remember, but she sensed something else.
Is he relieved? As if he knows that his memories are not ones to be cherished…
By the time that afternoon found them, Isolde had almost forgotten what she had done. Despite everything, she was just so comfortable around Cassian. How warm he was, how kind. And the way that he constantly looked at her… it made her glow, for reasons she did not want to consider.
“Your Grace!” Mr. Pemberton found them in the library, which they had visited to research family history. “There you are.”
“Ah, Mr. Pemberton,” Cassian smiled at him. “My second favorite person in this place.”
Mr. Pemberton came to a stop. His eyes fell on Isolde, and she sensed his annoyance. She looked away because she did notwant him to think that she was enjoying herself, as if this was all part of her plan.
“I am sorry to disturb you, but as I mentioned earlier, the physician wishes to check on your health. To see if there are any…” He glanced at Isolde again. “… changes to your condition.”
“I can assure you there are not.”
“Be that as it may…” He looked pointedly at Cassian.
Cassian sighed. “Might I order you to go away?”
“You can try, Your Grace.”
“Very well.” Cassian was sure to take Isolde’s hand. “I will see you later, yes?”
“Only if you wish it,” she said quietly, as if to do so might somehow dampen his feelings.
“Oh, I think we both know the answer to that.”
They left her then, for which she was glad. Alone now, Isolde reminded herself for the hundredth time what she had done. She should not be enjoying herself. She should not be enjoying the duke’s company! What she ought to do was make him hate her, so that he might ask her to leave.
