“She was nervous, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton continued. “Unsure of how to behave, as she was unsure if she could play her part. But she did so with aplomb.”
“Your point?” Cassian snapped before he could stop himself.
“No point,” Mr. Pemberton said. “I just wished to make note of it.”
If Cassian had things his way he would have refused Mr. Pemberton’s suggestion that Isolde join him for supper. Frustratingly, his steward had made an argument to which there was no good counter, and Cassian knew too well that if he wished to convince the ton that his life was his own again, that he needed to include his wife. It was expected.
How much easier things would have been if Cassian hated her. How much he wished that when he saw her, wrath and anger was what poured through his veins.
Alas, Cassian’s feelings were nowhere near that simple.
Indeed, when he had seen her arrive at the top of the staircase earlier, dressed as she was, looking so devastatingly beautiful, it was all he could do to not gape and smile and tell her just how perfect she was.
And when she came to him, as she played the role of dutiful wife, Cassian had to force himself not to look at her. He forced those scowls. He forced the glare in his eyes. He forced the contempt because it was the only way he could control himself.
And oh, how he hated having to do it.
She just looked so utterly broken. When their eyes met, he saw in them her sadness, just as he knew the guilt that she felt for her actions. She had wronged him. She had hurt and betrayed him. She had broken the trust, and Cassian could never forgive her. Even if he wanted to…
His hope was that, in time, he would simply forget about her, that she would become little more than a ghost that haunted this manor. Rarely heard. Never seen. Less than a memory. Only then might Cassian be able to move on.
“It is done,” he dismissed Mr. Pemberton. “And I will not praise Isolde for doing the bare minimum. If she had not lied to me in the first place, it would not be necessary.”
“I am not suggesting that you praise her, Your Grace.”
“Then what are you suggesting?” he snapped.
“These next few weeks are pivotal. As a newly married couple, the two of you will be expected to attend certain events together. And seeing as you must remind the ton of who you are, as well as reminding yourself for that matter, many of these events cannot be avoided.”
Cassian’s stomach squirmed. “I am aware of my duty.”
“As I have made sure that Her Grace is aware of hers,” Mr. Pemberton said. “She is eager to make up for what she did, just as she is eager to do whatever is required of her.”
“There is no making up for it,” Cassian snarled. “What she did…” He squirmed as his stomach did. “I would sooner forget her entirely.”
“In time, that will be an option,” Mr. Pemberton said. “But for now, as much as you will hate it, the two of you will be spending time together in social settings. I will do as I can to train her and make her ready, but you must play your role too.”
“Tell me, Mr. Pemberton, were you always this stubborn? I would have thought I might have whipped it out of you by now.”
His smile was curt. “When your memories return, perhaps that will change.”
“I hear what you are saying…” Cassian’s shoulders sank and he took another deep sip of brandy as if it might dull his senses and soften the pain that refused to leave his heart. “Just as I know what I must do. But I will not do more than I need to,” he said with little conviction. “The bare minimum.”
“Of course.”
“When is the next event?” he asked.
“Two days hence,” Mr. Pemberton said immediately. “Mr. Brooks has invited you and a few other peers to a supper.”
“Mr. Brooks…”
“The shipping contracts, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton reminded him. “They are worth?—”
“Yes, yes,” he cut Mr. Pemberton off. “I remember.”
“You must attend,” his steward continued. “As must Her Grace. And while I will do as I can, you must also play the role in which you have found yourself. In the safety of your home, it is acceptable to act a certain way. But in the company of others, you will be watched closely, and anything untoward or strange…”
“You are telling me that I must be warm to her. Is that it?”
