Page 32 of My Duke, The Stranger
“What?” Mr. Pemberton urged him.
“That drawer…” Slowly, his hand went for it. “I have no idea what is inside of it, but I know that if I try and open it, it will catch.” He took the drawer’s handle and lightly pulled it open. Indeed, it caught, and he had to force it all the way. “Huh.”
Mr. Pemberton could not have looked more pleased. “Your memories are returning. Just as Doctor Monroe said.”
“It is hardly cause for celebration,” Cassian muttered.
“It is a start,” Mr. Pemberton dismissed. “Piece by piece, you are returning to your old self.”
“And is that such a good thing?” Cassian said before he could stop himself.
“What do you mean?”
Cassian’s brow furrowed as he met Mr. Pemberton’s eyes across the desk. “I am not a fool, Mr. Pemberton. So please, do not treat me as one.”
“Your Grace, I would never.”
“Then why do you insist on pretending that the way I act, who I am, is the man who you claim to know. I have seen it with my own eyes, Mr. Pemberton. How the staff treat me… how theylookat me. Even you, whenever I make a joke, you react as if it is the first one I have ever made.”
“Your Grace…” The steward shifted uncomfortably.
“What type of man was I, Mr. Pemberton? Truly. Was I a good master? Was I the type to inspire loyalty? Or was I a tyrant, one who the staff are right to fear?”
Mr. Pemberton did not answer immediately. And as he considered the question, he looked down at the desk, his mind turning behind his eyes. That alone was answer enough for Cassian, the very same answer that he feared knowing, while wanting to know at the same time.
“Your life was not easy, Your Grace,” he began, his voice soft and distant. “I know you see the wealth, how you live, and you might assume otherwise. But few had as difficult an upbringing as you did.”
“My father?”
“Remember, I have known you since you were a boy,” Mr. Pemberton said as he looked up. His eyes were sad but also determined. “I have seen you grow before my eyes, and I would not be here still if I did not think you were deserving of my loyalty.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Soon, you will come to realize the difficulties one faces when in your position. Choices that must be made. Decisions that must be forced on others, but always for the greater good.”
“Mr. Pemberton?—”
“I cannot say what type of man you were,” he spoke over Cassian. “In my eyes, you have always been that same scared child whom I first met over twenty-five years ago…”
A smile touched his lips, but it was as sad as the look in his eyes. “What I can say is that you have always done what you thought was right, and always what you must. Sometimes, those decisions were hard; often, they were not agreed upon by everyone, but I never doubted that your heart was in the right place. You are a good man, Your Grace. Know that to be true.”
Once again, Cassian was struck by the sense that Mr. Pemberton was not telling him everything. Although he did not doubt thatMr. Pemberton meant every word he said, he knew that much was being obfuscated and ignored.
Was I really such a tyrant that even my own steward is afraid to tell me the truth?
It was a startling revelation to have. It left Cassian feeling worse off than ever. And as he took another sip of brandy, as the lingering smell of cigar smoke drifted through his mind and his memories, he wondered once again if remembering his past and who he had been was a goal to strive for.
Or, maybe, if it would be better for everyone if his memories never came back.
Thirteen
Slowly, the memories started to return.
As with the cigar smoke, they came in fragments that Cassian could hardly make sense of. Were they pieces of his dreams—not real—not worth thinking about? Or were they real and as frightening as they were confronting?
He woke up covered in his own sweat. His head throbbed. His body shook. He shut his eyes as he tried to remember the cause. And when he did, it turned his flushed body ice cold so that he wished that he would forget.
It was only a dream… it wasn’t real.
