Page 41 of His Tempting Duchess

Cassian paused, squeezing his eyes shut. He leaned on the washbasin, breathing in and out and willing his chest to stop aching. Water dripped from his face and into the basin.

“Only me, Your Grace,” came the voice at the door again. It was, of course, Cassian’s valet—a spry dandy called Angus. “A note arrived from Mr. St. John. He wished to know if you wanted to have an early lunch with him at White’s.”

Cassian paused, thinking it over. Really, he had a good deal of work that he ought to get done before tonight. If all went to plan—and he hoped that it would—it would be a long night.

The day stretched out before him, long and quiet.

He sighed. “I’ll join him, Angus. Write back to tell him so.”

“Very good, Your Grace.”

* * *

Richard was waiting in the lounge area of White’s, puffing on a cigar. A glass of brandy sat in front of him, filling the air with a sweetish scent.

At this time of day, of course, White’s was not very busy. Around the proper lunchtime hour, it would grow busier, and busier still as the afternoon wore on towards supper and the evening.

Richard glanced up as Cassian approached and hastily stubbed out the cigar.

“Apologies, I forgot how much you hate smoking,” he remarked.

Cassian sighed, throwing himself into the seat opposite. “Don’t worry about it. You can do as you like, here. I take it the Duchess of Thornbridge recovered nicely?”

“Miss Belmont’s sister? Yes, she did. I don’t know what possessed her to go walking on such a cool day—in the rain, no less. But then I’ve heard that she is rather fearsome.”

Cassian chuckled. “Not unlike her sister.”

Richard paused, brandy half lifted to his lips. “Are you talking about Miss Emily Belmont?Fearsome? Oh, I don’t think so. From what I’d heard, she’s as mild as milk.”

“I think anybody who thinks such is mistaken. She has a placid enough exterior, to be sure, but push beyond that and you’ll find steel.”

Richard didn’t seem convinced, but neither did he seem to want to argue the point.

“If you say so.” He shrugged, taking a gulp of brandy and replacing the glass. “How does the wooing go, by the way? Are you ready to give up yet?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Cassian responded.

He hesitated, wondering if he should tell Richard about the outing planned for that night.

He decided against it. Evenconsideringsuch an offer would destroy Miss Belmont’s reputation beyond what even her powerful family could repair, and he too would suffer for making it. Richard would certainly disapprove. He did edge towards prudishness a little at times, much to Cassian’s amusement.

He glanced up, catching Richard watching him with narrowed eyes.

“You’re up to something, aren’t you?” Richard murmured. “What is it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Cousin. I think you are seeing plots and subterfuge everywhere.”

“And I thinkyouare up to something. And it has to do with Miss Belmont, I’d wager. Really, Cass, I do not understand why you’re so fixated on her. Why can’t you just marry someone else? It’s not as if you’re in love with her.”

Cassian flinched. “Of course I am not. I am never going to fall in love, because I am not a fool, and I thank you to remember that.”

There was a brief silence after his sharp words.

Cassian could have bitten off his tongue. He often forgot how soft and easily hurt Richard could be.

Too late to change it now. That’s the thing about words—once they’re spoken, they can’t be taken back.

A footman appeared during the pause that followed and politely took Cassian’s order.

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