Quentin reappeared the day after the marriage and was sent off again immediately on some errand for his elder brother. The Convocation officially began the next day. Delegates had arrived not only from Spain, Germany, and Prussia, but from France, Portugal, Greece, Italy, the Slavic countries, Canada, the Scandinavian nations, and even exotic India and Japan. In appearance the guests were human, but Isabelle had learned the dangers that came with this strange gathering, and was glad enough to remain in seclusion for the two weeks of the meeting.
Cassidy, too, was kept in virtual isolation. She told Isabelle calmly that Braden felt she wasn’t ready to face such a large assembly of loups-garous; she seemed to accept his judgment.
But her resignation was strained, as if she were making a supreme effort not to rebel. Isabelle understood; Cassidy wanted to keep what she had, this illusion of belonging to someone, at all costs. For once in her life she was truly deceiving herself, and Isabelle could not help her.
For his part, Braden was wholly absorbed in managing the business of the Convocation. He had little attention to spare for his new wife. Isabelle had learned enough of these loups-garous that she knew he had to guard his position of dominance, which had been so recently tested. The others looked to his leadership; he oversaw the decisions made with regard to marriage and alliance, all designed to preserve their kind from extinction.
Often, during the next two weeks, while the were-wolves met in the Great Hall and servants crept about like ghosts, Cassidy came to spend her time in Isabelle’s room. They would talk or read; Cassidy even tried her hand at embroidery, though she’d never learned the fine art of it. Such domestic pursuits were not Cassidy’s forte, nor should they be.
But at night, when the day’s meetings were ended, Cassidy would fly back to the suite she shared with her husband, bursting with anticipation and pride and love.
Isabelle had no doubt that their physical relations were excellent. She was an expert in all matters pertaining to the act of love; she recognized a satisfied person, male or female. She seldom saw the earl, but Cassidy was no shrinking bride raised to dread a husband’s attentions. She retained that aura of wonder that came with sexual knowledge before it was tempered by time and disappointment. Or betrayal.
God forbid that was all she and the earl shared.
Days passed, and then the two weeks of the Convocation were nearly up. The guests would be returning to their homes, new marriage contracts signed and ties between families cemented for another five years. Isabelle sensed Cassidy’s excitement; at last she’d have her husband to herself.
On the morning the remaining delegates were preparing to leave Greyburn, Isabelle watched from her window, which, like Cassidy’s old room, overlooked the drive and park stretching out in front of the great house. Two carriages were drawn up before the door; Greyburn footmen loaded baggage and assisted men and women into the vehicles. The departing guests might have been the French delegates, or perhaps the Italians. All of their personal servants had entered the rearmost and more humble of the two carriages, and the coachmen were just whipping up the horses, when there was a sudden commotion.
The earl of Greyburn burst onto the scene from within the house, plainly furious. Footmen scattered out of his way as he strode up to the delegate’s carriage. There was a brief and hurried conversation, and then the earl moved to the rear vehicle.
The carriage door opened. Braden summoned a footman and waited while the man helped one of the delegate’s maids to descend. She was not the subject of Braden’s wrath. A second maid emerged, and then a third, each one ignored in turn.
It was the fourth, her face shielded by a hooded cloak, who earned the earl’s full attention. He caught her arm with one hand and pushed back her hood with the other.
Lady Rowena stared at him, stiff with defiance. From behind her window, Isabelle could hear the muffled hum of raised voices. The earl shook his sister none too gently.