Page 63 of His Tempting Duchess

Cassian bit his lip. “You weren’t to blame. You weren’t to know he would do such a thing. It wasn’t you who killed him, Margaret. It was my father.”

He spat out the word. It always left a bad taste in his mouth.Father. Like a mouthful of acrid smoke.

“Love is ruinous, Cassian,” Margaret continued doggedly, draining her glass of wine once more. “I wish it had never touched me. I hope that Frances keeps her head and makes a rational choice when it comes to marriage.”

“Matthew warned me to avoid losing my heart. To counteract him, it seems, my father’s will compels me to marry and sire a child, or risk losing everything,” Cassian scoffed, shaking his head.

“Is that why you are seeking marriage?” Margaret asked, fixing him with a shrewd look.

She might be a little intoxicated, but not as deep in her cups as she was allowing him to believe.

Cassian pursed his lips. “You are referring to Miss Belmont.”

“I am. One would think a duke such as yourself would have better things to do than chase a woman who has already made him look like a fool at the altar once. Aren’t there other women?”

“There are,” he conceded. “But I’ve rather set my mind on that one.”

Margaret narrowed her eyes, leaning forward. “I hope you don’t mean that you’ve set yourhearton her. In the game of love, hearts won and lost are lives ruined or wasted, you know.”

He snorted. “If you’re trying to warn me off love, don’t worry. I have no intention of falling in love with Miss Belmont or with anyone.”

“Then why, pray tell, are you pursuing her with such vehemence?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have much time. I think she will suit me and the cold marriage I have in mind. She has her own interests and aspirations, and once we have produced an heir and I receive my inheritance, we shall merrily part ways and avoid each other for the next few decades. See, I have thought of it all, Margaret.”

Margaret was quiet for a moment, twirling her empty wine glass between her fingers.

“You are too clever for your own good, my dear,” she said, eventually. “I think your plots and schemes are going to create a rope around your legs.”

“And I think you have drunk too much wine, my dear Margaret, to be using metaphors so freely,” Cassian retorted, rising to his feet and plucking the wine glass from her fingers. “It’s Frances’s birthdayanda celebration of her coming home from finishing school. You will not ruin it with your drunkenness.”

Margaret sighed. “Very well. This Miss Belmont will take up all your time if you marry her, you know.”

“I don’t believe so.”

Cassian had his back to Margaret, concentrating on pouring cups of tea for them both. Still, he could feel her eyes boring into him, heavy with disapproval.

She doesn’t like Emily. Doesn’t want me to marry her. I wonder why.

“You mark my words, that girl occupies more of your thoughts than she should,” Margaret added, a sour edge to her voice. “I don’t care for her. I wish you could break the will, Cassian, and avoid marriage altogether. Falling in love will not be good for you.”

“I can’t break the will, and as for falling in love, I have no intention of lettingthathappen,” Cassian responded, turning to hand her a cup of tea on a saucer. Her hand shook as she took it, making the cup rattle. Some tea spilled over the side, pooling in the saucer. “Love is the one thing I do not want from my wife.”

Margaret stared at her teacup, a furrow between her eyebrows.

“If you’re worried that I will neglect you and Frances after my marriage, I can assure you that it will not happen,” Cassian added, his voice soft.

Margaret only sighed. “The promises of men are as thin as paper in the rain, my dear Cassian. I wish I could believe you.”

“Youwillbelieve me, given time.”

“You plan to propose marriage to her again, then?”

Cassian sat down beside the woman he had always thought of as his sister-in-law, even though she and Matthew had never formally exchanged vows. He knew, though, that Margaret kept Matthew’s ring. During the Baron’s lifetime, it was hidden away in a locked drawer. Now, she wore it on a chain around her neck, the circlet of gold hanging over her heart.

“I do,” he answered.

“And what makes you think she’ll accept?”

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