“That is a great gift indeed,” Isabelle said, her throat aching with pride and sorrow.
“You told me once not to change myself for anyone. Not even for Braden. You were right, Isabelle.” Her expression softened. “If he loves me, he won’t shut me out.”
If he loves me. Cassidy couldn’t hide the yearning in that phrase. She believed the earl loved her, but Isabelle knew he hadn’t given Cassidy the gift of those words.
In the end, words meant nothing. Isabelle had once been assured of love, only to have it end in betrayal.
And the earl had loved his first wife. She was dead.
“Now that the Convocation is over, Braden will have time for me again,” Cassidy said. “I’ll make him see through my eyes.” She gave Isabelle a quick hug. “Thank you, Isabelle.”
She left the room filled with new hope and faith that her confidence alone would sweep all difficulties from her path.
Isabelle resumed her seat by the fireplace and sank deep into the upholstery. I did tell you not to change for anyone, Cassidy. But you have changed—for yourself. You have become a strong person in your own right. And may be that is something the Lord of Greyburn can never accept.
She drew the crumpled letter from her pocket and read it again. If any of those neatly written words held truth, Cassidy’s happiness could not last.
Quentin returned with Uncle Matthew Just after the final delegates had left Greyburn, as unrepentant as ever for his tardiness.
Braden saved the admonishments. Quentin’s presence at the Convocation would have been useful, but hardly essential. His future, now that Cassidy was otherwise occupied, had yet to be determined, but several prospective mates were under serious consideration. He hadn’t dodged his fate, only postponed it.
Quentin claimed he’d searched high and low for Uncle Matthew, who hadn’t been so good as to wait at Leebrook House to be fetched home. But Lord Leebrook wasn’t harmed, and Matthew, it seemed, had also returned unscathed from his peculiar adventure. He’d since fled back to the fells—one less complication to be dealt with.
That left Rowena—and Cassidy.
“I am sorry I missed the happy event,” Quentin said, feigning relaxation as he sat opposite Braden in the library. “Though I hear it was a very private ceremony. Anxious to get past the preliminaries, were you?”
He was deliberately goading Braden, as if he wished to be punished for his impudence. But the anger Braden had felt earlier was gone. He had none to spare for his foolish younger brother and no desire to rise to Quentin’s bait.
“I do thank you for one thing, Quentin,” he said. “Your irresponsibility demonstrated how little you were suited to Cassidy.” He showed his teeth. “If she’d been hurt—”
“But she wasn’t. She’s a remarkably resilient little thing, as strong as any of us.” He clucked. “Come now, Braden—even you can’t believe I’d have left without making sure of that. I just didn’t care to be present when you arrived on the scene.”
“In that you were wise. I’ll be certain to provide you with a mate who is up to all your tricks.”
Quentin yawned. “What a dull subject. I understand you’ve put poor Ro through the mill—”
“She tried to escape.”
“Our sister would be so much more clever if she weren’t concerned with such minor matters as reputation.”
“You don’t deceive me, Quentin. I suggest that you do not even consider helping her.”
“It would take far too much effort.” The leather of his boots creaked as he recrossed his legs. “And how is married life, Braden? With Cassidy, I mean?”
“She has much to learn,” he said stiffly, “but I have every confidence that with proper guidance, she’ll be of great help to me in the Cause.”
“Wonderful. All you could ask for.”
Quentin’s voice was heavy with sarcasm, but Braden didn’t let it touch him. “Yes. All I require in my wife—honesty, loyalty, and obedience.”
“And what do you suppose she requires, Braden? A magnificent home? Fine dresses? A wealthy family?”
“I shall do my best to make her happy.”
“Another duty on your shoulders, brother. I don’t envy you.” He sighed. “Has she… mentioned children?”