Page 79 of A Highland Duke to Claim Her Heart

Just like Cassandra would want privacy when, and if, she was able to tell Ewan how she felt.

That was the other reason she was crying. Not out of envy, exactly. She was happy for her friends, overjoyed for them. But she wanted that, too. To tell the man she loved how she felt, to feel his astonishment and joy and gratitude at hearing those words from her.

She wanted a real marriage, one of love and tenderness, affection and children, all the things that Alaric had spoken of.

But she had no idea if it was possible. Christopher might still thwart it. And even after, there was no guarantee that Ewan would want to have a real marriage with her.

His words the other day had seemed to indicate that he did, but he had been feverish with an illness that had nearly claimed his life. Perhaps he had spoken out of desperation, or fear or hisimpending death, or else he had said words that in wellness he never would have dreamed of.

There was no way to know. Not until Christopher was safely removed as a threat and she was able to speak to Ewan outside of the fog of illness.

She made her way upstairs to the nursery, where she found Annabelle painting with watercolors.

“Is Papa any better?” Annabelle asked, and Cassandra felt her heart break. She had been forced to tell Annabelle these past few days that her father’s condition had not improved. They were all afraid that if Annabelle knew the truth, she would accidentally let it slip to Christopher. But it was a dagger through the heart every time Cassandra had to lie to the little girl.

“He is the same,” she said gently, crouching down next to her.

Annabelle’s eyes filled with tears. “Every time a grown-up comes to see me, I am afraid they are about to tell me that Papa is dead.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in shock. “Your father is not going to die!” she said, as fervently as possible. “Where did you get such an idea?”

“From Uncle Christopher,” she said, blinking slowly. “He said that sometimes, people do not recover from sickness. And he said that Papa’s sickness was one of those.”

Cassandra felt her hands curl into fists. If Christopher had been present, she might have given the whole plan away right there and then and hit him across the face. The cruelty of it was astounding. To tell a little girl that her father might die, especially from an illness that you yourself had manufactured… It was beyond cruel.

“Your father is going to improve,” Cassandra said, taking Annabelle’s hand and squeezing it. “The doctor and I are doing everything we can to help him. Do you understand?”

Annabelle nodded slowly. “I understand,” she whispered.

“And I am sorry that your uncle said that to you,” Cassandra continued. “He does not know of what he speaks.”

Annabelle looked down. “He seemed so certain…”

“He is wrong,” Cassandra insisted. “Now, you must come with me, my love. Lillian wants to talk with you in her sitting room.”

Annabelle got to her feet, and it was only then that Cassandra looked fully at the painting she had been working on. It was a childish portrait of a family gathered around a hearth. She recognized Lillian and Alaric at once sitting together by the window. And there was the duke, the wordPapawritten over his head, with Annabelle on his lap.

Next to them both was a drawing of a woman she knew at once was her. Over her head was writtenMama.

Cassandra’s heart swelled, and she pulled the little girl close, hugging her.

It is all going to be over soon,she told herself as she led her downstairs, to where Lillian was waiting. Alaric was gone, but the smile on Lillian’s face was so serene and so joyous that Cassandra was left in little doubt that the rest of the conversation had gone very well.

“Take good care of her,” Cassandra murmured as she stood in the doorway with Lillian, while Annabelle amused herself at Lillian’s escritoire. “And do not let anyone in, no matter what, until you hear the password.”

The two of them had agreed on it ahead of time. Cassandra could not risk anything, when it came to Christopher. Even Alaric and Dr. Ludley could be manipulated, if Christopher found threats that would persuade them.

Lillian nodded. “Do not worry. I will protect her with my life, if I have to.”

“Let us hope it does not come to that.”

***

An hour later, Lady Pembury descended the stairs in a glimmering gown of silver satin, to where Christopher waited at the bottom of the stairs. Cassandra watched from behind a column on the landing above, and she thought her mother looked absolutely radiant. The paragon of theton, of matriarchal order and sophistication.

Christopher bowed. “Lady Pembury,” he said, his voice ringing. “It is a delight to see you looking so well. And will your daughter be joining us tonight?”

“I am afraid that she is feeling unwell,” Lady Pembury said, in a tone of clear disapproval. “Let us hope she has not caught whatever ails our duke.”