Page 54 of My Duke, The Stranger
Give it time. Surely, one day soon, he will know that he can trust me and that he does not have to hate me for the rest of our lives.
The supper progressed typically after that. It was long. It was boring. But Isolde knew Cassian hated it too. The old him was still there, and all Isolde had to do was wait until he was willing to let it out.
“Oh, I do wish you could stay for a drink,” Mr. Brooks bemoaned once the supper was over and Cassian had announced their departure. “The night is still young.”
“I am afraid we must be getting back,” Cassian said. “But thank you again, Mr. Brooks. I assure you that you will be hearing from me.”
He took Isolde by the arm, linking his through her own. She stayed right by his side, and for the first time all evening, it did not feel awkward or forced. She smiled for the small group, said her goodbyes, and they left the residence together.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” she said once they were out of earshot.
He scoffed. “It was as boring as it was long.”
She laughed. “I was just trying to be positive.”
“Please, don’t,” Cassian said to her, his voice suddenly turned sad.
“Don’t what? Be positive?”
“No…” They reached the carriage, and he unlinked his arm as he turned to look at her. “Whatever you are doing, Isolde, please… just, don’t.”
“I do not?—”
“I know you think that if you pretend that nothing happened, that I might… that you and I…” He shook his head. “I married you because I had no choice, not because I wanted to. And tonight, it was the same. Do not pretend or hope that it means anything else.”
“Cassian…” She wanted to reach out, to take his hand, to make him see how sorry she was. “I cannot take back what I did, nor am I trying to pretend otherwise. I just wish… how things used to be… I only want to make things better between us.”
“They won’t be better.” He did not sound angry, and that was something to be grateful for. But the crack in his voice, how he could not look at her, spoke to how sad he was, and that was much worse. “Nor can they ever be. I appreciate that you are trying, Isolde, and I will do my best to not hold anything against you. But please…” He looked at her, the sadness clear in his eyes. “Stop acting as if a joke or a smile will make me forget what you did. I do not want to forget. Just as…” His brow furrowed. “Just as I do not want to forgive you.”
Isolde winced and looked away.
She had known that it would take time. She had known it would take work. But she had not allowed herself to believe that he might never forgive her, or that he would never want to.
But where did that leave her? Could she and Cassian be friends? Would that be enough? Isolde had not loved Cassian as he claimed that he’d loved her, but it felt now as if she had. The pain in her heart, the way it broke and bled, maybe that’s what love was? And maybe it was only just now that she was willing to admit it.
“Come…” He climbed into the carriage. “Let us go home.”
Isolde said nothing as she followed him into the carriage. And she said nothing as they rode home. She had tried so hard. She had held out hope. She had latched onto those small moments as if they meant something.
It was all for nought. Cassian would never forgive her, and Isolde would spend the rest of her life wondering at what might have been… what she had lost… and what she would never have.
Twenty-Two
Cassian walked ahead of Isolde, determined to put this evening behind him. He left her in the carriage, not once looking back, needing to be away from her and quickly.
A valet waited by the door, saw him coming, and quickly opened it. As Cassian walked by the man, he noticed the way the footman looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. He also saw how the footman trembled, and he noticed that he held his breath as Cassian passed by.
Was I really such a tyrant?
He knew the answer, of course. And if there had been any doubt, the way he was treated by his peers was proof enough. They were terrified of him, just as they were desperate for his approval. And those few times that Cassian had dared to show his new side, a joke or a smile, they had looked at him as if he were a stranger.
Cassian paused when he reached the foyer, and he did not know why.
The manor stood in darkness. Often, on quiet nights like this, he would retire to his office for a drink and some more work. That was another memory that touched his subconscious, vague images of who he used to be and how he used to spend his time.
He looked up the staircase, picturing himself alone in that office, and the image that he found was one of loneliness and sadness, and not something he wanted for himself.
But wasn’t that his entire life? One spent alone. One where he relished the fear he struck in others? One where he did not want someone to spend his days with… where he thought love was a myth and a trap… something better to be avoided at all costs?
