Page 64 of His Tempting Duchess

He paused, the teacup halfway to his lips.

With a faint smile, Cassian remembered the way Emily’s face had flushed when she climaxed, the way her fingers had tightened in his hair. He recalled the dazed, awestruck expression on her face when he had sat up and looked at her.

It was easier than I thought.

He pointedly did not think about his feelings at that moment. It was not abouthimafter all, but winning himself a wife in good time.

He caught Margaret watching him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She probably suspected at least half of what had really gone on.

“Cassian?” she prompted.

He cleared his throat, taking a delicate sip of his tea.

“Oh, I have a feeling she won’t wish to refuse me this time,” he said, as lightly as he could. “Just a small hunch, you know.”

CHAPTER20

One Night To Her Decision

Asmall party had been planned for Frances the following day. Nothing elaborate, only a few close friends. If anyone thought that it was odd for Cassian to be there, they wisely kept their opinions to themselves.

There had been talk about Cassian and Margaret years ago, when she was newly widowed and Frances was a child. Cassian had clenched his teeth and ignored it, and Margaret had simply weathered the gossip. When no engagement was announced, people naturally lost interest.

Of course, some people had long enough memories to recall the late Duke of Clapton’s oldest son’s scandalous association with an opera singer, but those people were generally sensible enough to keep their mouths shut and their opinions to themselves.

That’s the beauty of Society, really,Cassian mused, rattling home in his carriage.People forget so quickly. After all, how many people partaking in this Season know that I ever hada brother?

That thought, as usual, brought pain. And since he was alone in his carriage, trundling through the dark streets, there was no way of distracting himself.

Closing his eyes and resting his head back against the carriage seat, Cassian allowed himself to remember, for once. The sound of rain drumming against the carriage roof drowned out anything beyond his echoing thoughts.

He thought of Matthew. Not of that fateful last meeting, where Matthew had been so dazed and mad with grief that it seemed he was drunk, but of all the times before. The times when Matthew taught him to fire a shotgun when he was entirely too young to learn, sneaked him sips of wine, taught him to ride a horse, and took him on spontaneous trips across London to sweet shops and ice parlors.

Oh, Matthew. I miss you more than you can ever know. What would life have been like if you were here?

Well, he would not be the Duke of Clapton, that was for sure. The former duke would never have countenanced Margaret’s marriage to Matthew, even if she had not gone ahead and gotten engaged to the Baron. Frances would likely still exist. She would have had the opportunity to meet her real father.

I have neglected her.

Cassian felt a pang of regret.

She has no father left, so it is up to me to act in my brother’s place. That requires more than paying for finishing school and new dresses. I ought to be there for her.

He found himself thinking of Emily, too. Not much of a surprise, as his thoughts tended to rush back to her at the most inopportune moments, bringing a wave of emotions and desires that he did not enjoy wrangling.

I could introduce Emily to Frances. And once we are married, once I have assured myself she is trustworthy, I can tell her the truth—that Frances is our niece.

The carriage jerked to a halt in front of the house, effectively interrupting Cassian’s uncontrolled train of thought. Sighing, he climbed down. His head ached, and he was tired—more tired than a young girl’s birthday party ought to have left him.

“Any news?” he asked the butler, handing over his coat, gloves, and hat. “Any messages?”

“No, Your Grace.”

“Very well. Goodnight, then. I’ll read in the library for a little while, then take myself to bed. Nobody needs to wait up.”

The butler bowed. “Very good, Your Grace.”

It was not late, barely nine o’clock, but already the house was settling down for the night. The kitchen would be dark and quiet, with most of the servants having taken themselves to bed.

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