Page 47 of My Duke, The Stranger
“I know,” she said as she ran over in her head all the instructions that Mr. Pemberton had given her. She did not like the suggestion, and ordinarily she would never do such a thing. But this wasn’t about her, and Isolde reasoned that she needed to play her role because this was all her fault. “I will do my best.”
“That is all that can be asked of you.” He looked her over once. “Now, His Grace’s guests will be arriving at any minute, and it is expected that the two of you will greet them in the foyer.”
Isolde’s heart started to patter, and her breathing turned heavy so that she felt her cheeks flush. She did her best to calm herself, knowing at the same time such a thing was impossible.
A part of the way that she reacted was due to nervousness. She knew how important this evening was, and she did not want to mess everything up. Cassian needed her to play her role and if she could do it well enough…what? What might happen? Likely, he will just hate me a little less than he already does.
She had not seen or spoken to Cassian since yesterday, and while she was nervous about how she might do tonight, she was just as nervous about spending time with him. She knew that he would not speak down to her. She knew he would not chastise or show anger. Likely, he would act as if she did not exist at all, which in her mind was even worse.
It might be nice if he yells at me. At least that way he will acknowledge my existence.
Oh, how much easier this would be if Isolde felt nothing for Cassian. Better even if she hated him. Sadly, the week they’d spent together was enough for her to see a side of him that she had rather liked, a side that showed a kind and caring soul who did not deserve what had happened.
She wanted him to forgive her… just as she knew he never would.
“Let us be about this,” she said with a saddened sigh as she turned. “Best to get it over with.”
“Walk with a straight back, Your Grace,” Mr. Pemberton instructed. “And do not frown or appear sullen. But do not smile either.”
Isolde walked from her room, made her way down the hallway, and appeared at the top of the main staircase, which led into the foyer. There already, waiting for her and his guests, was Cassian.
He looked up when she appeared at the top of the staircase. His eyes found hers, but his expression was cold; it looked as if he hardly noticed her at all.
Then he turned and faced the front door.
She sighed again, her shoulders almost slumped, but Isolde corrected them quickly and made her way into the foyer. She approached Cassian from behind, her heart racing so fast that she wondered if he might hear it. There was a coldness to him that was undeniable, and he appeared so distant from her that she wondered if she reached out to touch him, would her hand pass right through his body…
This was not the man who she had known. It was, however, the man who she had expected when he first woke in her cottage. His memories might not have returned but his old ways had, and that she was responsible… that hurt more than anything else.
Isolde stood beside Cassian, but back slightly, and not too close. They stayed that way in silence, and while she glanced at him often, not once did he look her way.
She literally felt the antipathy pouring from his body. He hated her, she now knew, and while she wanted to apologize so desperately, she knew it would make no difference.
“Your Grace…” Mr. Pemberton walked to the front door. “Mr. Collins and Mr. Hart have arrived.”
“Show them in,” Cassian said.
Mr. Collins and Mr. Hart were welcomed into the manor accordingly. They were both elderly, both dressed in fine suits, and while they were not lords, they acted as if they were. Isolde had little experience with men like these, but she recognized their type. Vastly wealthy, filled with self-importance, and always looking down on those they assumed to be less.
“Your Grace…” Mr. Collins was the first to greet Cassian. He bowed deeply. “It is a pleasure to see you again. I had feared after not hearing back from you for so long…”
“Merely testing your commitment,” Cassian said without humor.
“Yes,” Mr. Collins chuckled. “I thought as much.”
“Your Grace…” Mr. Hart was next, also offering a deep bow. “I am so pleased we got to do this. Truly, it is an honor to be invited into your home.”
“I know it is,” Cassian said in a way that sounded a little too natural. “And thank you both for coming. Might I introduce you to my wife…” He turned slightly towards Isolde.
“It is a pleasure to meet you both.” Isolde offered a small curtsey.
“The pleasure is all ours, I assure you,” Mr. Collins said.
“We had heard of your beauty, Your Grace,” Mr. Hart added. “And I am beyond pleased to see that such rumors are accurate.”
“You are too kind,” she said simply.
As instructed, Isolde did her best to remain unnoticed. Only speaking when spoken to. Never indulging or adding her own opinion. She was to be there, a part of the room, but not its center.
