“The ceremony,” she said.
“Indeed. Lord Greyburn could have discharged me, but I was in… somewhat dire personal circumstances at the time. I had served in the finest houses in Britain, but my arrogant mistakes had brought me to ruin. Lord Greyburn set his own concerns aside for my sake. In essence, he saved my life.”
So, after all his implacable insistence on compelling the loyalty of his humans, his cruelty to John Dodd, Braden was capable of letting someone close to him… out of simple trust and compassion. The same trust and compassion humans had to use with one another.
Why was it so hard for Braden to risk his trust again?
“I found a place at Greyburn,” Telford said. “I was given a second chance. I believe in second chances, Miss Holt.” He looked away. “When you first came to London, I was not certain you belonged here. I made the mistake of judging you based upon the most shallow of considerations.”
“Maybe you were right,” Cassidy said.
“No, Miss Holt. I have no doubt whatsoever that I was quite wrong.” He plucked at his collar as if he could straighten its drooping edges. “Lord Greyburn is not the easiest man to comprehend. But I believe you have made a change in him, Miss Holt. I believe he… values you greatly.”
Cassidy’s heart gave a lurch. Surely, of anyone else in the world, Telford would know what Braden thought. What he wanted.
But he didn’t seem to value his brother, his sister, even his own son. And still he hadn’t come after her.
“I’ll… think about what you said, Telford,” she whispered. “I’m very tired. I’ll go to my room now—”
He bowed. “If you require anything at all, Miss Holt—”
“Thank you.” She made her way to her room, slipped inside the door, and closed it. She pressed her cheek to the wood, struggling to clear her thoughts.
How could she think clearly when she felt even less anchored than a twig carried along an endless wash in a flash flood? What was true, and what false? Whom could she trust?
Hinges creaked somewhere behind her. She turned to see Quentin walk through a door in the far wall that hadn’t been there a moment before.
“Did I startle you?” Quentin asked, dusting off his trousers. “I suppose Braden failed to tell you that all the family rooms—except Rowena’s, of course—have these convenient little private exits.” He gave the hidden door a push, and it sank back into the wall, so artfully concealed that the edges looked like part of the wallpaper decoration. “Very useful when one wants a midnight run.”
Cassidy put her back to the door. “Why are you here, Quentin?”
“To see you.” She saw that his skin was flushed under his shock of auburn hair, and his smile was strained. “There’s something I must show you.”
“Please. Not now.”
“But there is no better moment.” He came to her and traced her cheek with his ringer. “Tears, Cassidy? Then you need what I have to offer. You deserve to know the truth.”
She commanded her eyes to dry and met Quentin’s gaze. He didn’t look or act like a man eager to marry her. But that had all been Braden’s idea, from the beginning.
“What truth?”
“About my brother. The truth he’ll never let you see.”
Quentin knew. He’d guessed just how desperate she was to understand Braden Forster.
He wasn’t the only one. Telford, Isabelle, Rowena—they all knew. For the first time in her life she was ashamed that she couldn’t hide her feelings.
She made her face into a mask, like Braden’s. “What about John Dodd?”
“I understand your concern, but I think you’ll find a solution to that problem as well. If you come with me now.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you on the way. It’s some distance from here. We’ll take my phaeton.” He moved past her to open the door and looked up and down the corridor. “Come—there’s no time to lose.”
And what, after all, had she to lose?
For once, Quentin seemed to be in a hurry. Instead of leading her out the door, he closed it again and took her to the hidden passageway. With a touch at a specific point, he activated a nearly invisible latch, and the door swung open again.