Grace fought back angry tears. “I don’t know. But I’m done having my choices decided by someone else. I’m not a—a chess piece to be shoved about at their whim.”
She froze, her mother’s voice whispering in her memory, sending strength and resolve through her veins.A man may believe they control the chess board. But never forget…the queen is the most powerful piece of all.
Her jaw hardened with resolve, her heart raced.
The next move—whatever it was—would be hers alone.
CHAPTER 12
Lucien knew where he would find his sister. She had disappeared the moment the carriage reached Everdene Hall and hadn’t been seen since. But then, they’d all had the sense to scatter, Penelope and Simon to the nursery. Arkwright to the stables. Lucien to his room to bathe and change from his borrowed shirt and bloodstained clothes. Now, clad in his perfectly tailored trousers and coat, his black silk neckcloth pinned with a gold stick pin, and not a hair out of place, he climbed the stairs to the studio.
The cut on his chest burned.
The door was partially open, light from dozens of candles spilling out across the floor.
He'd always heard artists needed natural light to paint, but that hadn’t stopped Cassandra. A paint-splashed smock covered her dress, as she filled a section of canvas with vivid red. She didn’t notice him, so focused was she, painting as feverishly as she’d wielded the sword.
“Leave the tray on the table, Paola,” she said without turning, her body so tense it seemed as if the tendons must snap.
“I’m not Paola,” Lucien said softly.
Cassandra wheeled without first lifting her brush, leaving a streak of red upon the canvas like a wound. He saw her hand tremble, but she swiftly stilled it. She dumped her brush into turpentine, and grabbed a rag to dab at her hand.
“I startled you.” He gestured to the red smear.
“Fortunately with oils I can paint over my mistakes. Life is not that simple.”
“No,” Lucien agreed, crossing to the easel. “After what happened at The Willows, there are things you and I need to discuss.”
“Are there? I thought I made my feelings clear. Your sudden show of concern makes me sick. You threw Jane and I away, flinging us the occasional bank draft to sooth your guilty conscience. Now you can look us in the eye.” Cassandra’s mouth curled in bitterness.
“Twenty years…Did you ever think about us?”
“No.” Truth was he’d tried not to think at all. The weeks following that hideous night, he’d had all he could do to keep Simon sane. Lucien had been horrified, as if he’d set a stable afire and could still hear the horses screaming…
That dark light shone in Cassandra’s eyes. “I thought aboutyou,” she said. “What I’d say to you. What I’d do to make you suffer a small portion of what Jane and I suffered. You swept us out of Everdene Hall like yesterday’s rubbish. Last time, I didn’t know how to fight back. But I taught myself. Every moment I could steal away, until I mastered the skills…”
A raw, wary admiration rose in Lucien. As a girl, Cassandra had been all ribbons and dancing slippers and delight. The kind of girl adults smiled indulgently at, and eyes followed. Spirited, pretty, with quick intelligence. Loyal and protective toward their mother.
God, how different things might have been if he’d listened to her long ago.
“No man will ever find me helpless again.”
She looked so fierce, and yet, society itself set forces against a woman that no sword could match.
“I wish to discuss arrangements to insure that,” he said evenly.
Her upper lip curled in a sneer. “It is not your part toarrangeanything for me anymore.”
“Society’s strictures say otherwise.”
“I hate you for what you did to mother and me. But mostly, I hate you for what you did to Jane. Do you know she didn’t speak for two years? I was afraid they’d lock her away in an asylum. I worked day and night to coax her to speak.Youdid that to her.”
“I know.” Lucien stood, impassive, schooling his face into a stoic expression that didn’t show the knife to the heart. “What I did was wrong.”
“If you’re looking for absolution, you’ll never get it from me. Why don’t you go away and leave all of us alone? You’re not one of us. You never were.”
For a moment, he could picture how it was years before…Jane, Simon and Cass with their mother…that awkwardness he’d felt mixed in with the sense of pride in being set above them as the firstborn son and heir. He’d remained silent when the earl shared his scorn for the rest of the family.
