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A thought occurred to him, one Margot would likely ask.

“And your mother? What did she have to say about such a match?”

He chastised himself immediately for asking. The answer was plain on her face.

“You lost her. At an early age?”

“I was eight,” she said. “When she died.”

He wanted to say something but no words came to him.

Ashton had been eight once. And he hadn’t had anyone to say the right thing then, either.

CHAPTER 12

Cassia

She should be tired. After leaving Cuthbert's, she and Ashton made their way back out into the street.

There was more activity than when they'd gone inside, though Cassia had known that already, from her vantage point inside with Ashton.

A man who had kidnapped her.

She chanced a glance at him as they walked. He remembered to slow his strides as Cassia lifted her gown higher.

She feared who they would be meeting and what would happen to her.

Was being a hostage truly worse than what awaited her in the north with her husband?

Cassia pushed the thought aside, noticing as she turned to look forward once again that Ashton was watching her.

She pretended not to notice. Cassia had never met someone with such an intensity behind their regard before.

Many turned to stare at her as they walked by, but many more stared at him. Some in awe. Some appreciatively, especially the few women they passed.

“'Tis a bit of a walk to where we're going. I suppose you're accustomed to transport by carriage?”

A fair assumption, but one that irritated her for some reason.

“I am a competent walker,” Cassia told him. “My father insisted on it as part of my studies.”

They passed a fishmonger's stall. The morning's catch was laid out on boards crusted white with salt. Behind it was a rope-maker's yard, where two boys twisted hemp into line. Tar and woodsmoke hung over all of it.

“What else did your studies include?”

She got the sense a discussion such as this was not typical for him. It was as if he was forcing himself to speak to her.

Emboldened from not having been chastised by him yet, she ventured to continue in a tone her father would label insolent.

“If you do not wish to speak with me, I would not hold you to account for it.”

He startled, his steady pace slowing.

“What would make you say such a thing?”

She shrugged, a quite unladylike thing to do.

“Lady Cassia?” he prompted.