Page 43 of My Duke, The Stranger
It was the same gown that she’d had fitted personally, the same that Cassian had been so eager and excited to see her wear. She wondered now what he would say when he saw her for the first time. Would he even notice? Would he even care?
In truth, the gown made her feel like a fraud. All of this… it was a lie. Yes, she was the cause, but that did little to make her feel better. If anything, it only made her feel worse.
“I do not care about the gown, Eleanor,” Isolde said and turned away. “I would rather wear nothing.”
“How very scandalous.”
“This is not funny!” Isolde cried and threw up her hands. “I have ruined everything. And now I must live with the guilt of this, knowing that had I just done the right thing in the first place, none of this would have happened…” Her chin began to wobble. “What have I done, Eleanor? How did I… I did not…”
“Do not cry.” Eleanor swept toward her and pulled her into a hug. “I know this might not be the wedding you imagined, but try to see the positive.”
“There is none.”
“Oh, that is not true.” Eleanor pulled away but held Isolde’s arms so that she could look at her. “When you first lied to His Grace, was this not what you expected to happen?”
“I…” She looked away. “I do not know what I expected.”
“You wanted his help,” she said softly. “And not for you. Your intent was not wicked. You did it for the right reasons, and that is what matters. Your family will be taken care of for the rest of their lives. Your brother and sister will never want for anything again. How is that not a reason to celebrate?”
“But Cassian… His Grace…”
“Does not deserve your sorrow,” Eleanor said rightly. “He brought this on himself, and everything I know of him tells me that he is the last person who we should feel sorry for.” She touched under Isolde’s right eye where a tear dripped. “Do not waste tears on that man, for he would not waste them on you.”
If only she knew the truth…
What Eleanor said might have been true a month ago. The old duke, the wicked tyrant who was feared across the estate, was indeed a man who did not deserve pity. That was the man who Eleanor pictured, and that was why she did not care.
Only Isolde knew the truth of it.
These past few days might have seen Cassian return to his old self. He avoided Isolde entirely. His only communication with her was given through Mr. Pemberton. The manor had descended into a most frightening and morbid place, likely how it had been before his accident. On the surface, things were back to their old way… but was that the truth?
Cassian’s memories had not returned, which meant that he was not the same man who he had once been. He was still that same kind and gentle soul. The one filled with laughter. The one who made jokes, who hated being waited upon, who scorned his wealth and only ever seemed to care about how others were feeling. He acted cold, he acted detached, but that’s all it was. An act.
No doubt he was still hurting, and no doubt he was broken. Isolde had done that to him, and try as she might, she would never forgive herself.
“Come now…” Eleanor took her hand and forced her to face the mirror. “Look at yourself, Isolde. You are about to become a duchess! Please, smile. This is meant to be the happiest day of your life.”
If only it was that simple.
The wedding might have been going ahead as planned, but it was not the dream wedding that Cassian had spent a week killing himself over.
He had stripped it down to its bare bones so that nothing of the once lavish ceremony remained. Most of the guests had been disinvited; the reasons for which varied, but mostly he told people that Isolde had grown sick, so he wished not to exert her. The decorations that had been ordered were destroyed so that the chapel was left plain and empty, nothing to suggest romance or that love was to be found anywhere. And the post-ceremony breakfast had been cancelled.
Isolde’s family was not even allowed to come. As Mr. Pemberton told her, Cassian worried that if they were there, they might be asked about her and risk exposing the lie.
“Best that we are safe,” Mr. Pemberton had said. “Lest we find ourselves sorry.”
This was not the day that Isolde had expected, but it was the day that she deserved. It was businesslike in nature, a contract to be signed and agreed upon. As to what would happen next? She had no idea, and that scared her more than anything.
A knock at the door brought Isolde back into the room.
Mr. Pemberton stuck his head in and when he saw Isolde in that gown, a smile touched his lips, which he quickly smothered. “It is time, Miss Isolde. His Grace awaits.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pemberton,” she said with a warm smile. “I will be out in one moment.”
Eleanor took Isolde’s hand as if for protection. She smiled at her, still believing that this was somehow a good thing. But as Isolde slowly slunk from the room, she braced herself for a future that she did not want and could not possibly look forward to.
This is my punishment, and it is what I deserve…
