Page 12 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Anything is better than the Duke.
The door opens, and Selene nearly falls through it, suppressing an unladylike squeak as Cassie appears. The maid’s expression shifts to alarm as she takes in Selene’s face, her brows furrowing with worry.
“I have just heard the most outrageous rumour,” Cassie begins.
“Would it happen to be that I’ve secretly been married to Lord Nightbloom for three months?”
“You’ve heard it?”
“I was there when Lord Nightbloom uttered it to my father.”
“Why would he do such a thing?” Cassie manages, barely able to get the words out.
“Would you believe me if I said it was true?”
Cassie shakes her head. “No, because you took me with you to the Fortesque Ball, and there is no chance you managed to sneak away to the Nightbloom estate, get married, and return in that time. It’s impossible, and even if it weren’t, I would have seen you send letters. I would have heard you talk about him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mentionLord Nightbloom. For weeks, all you’ve spoken about is the Duke—”
Selene cringes at the memory, hating the girl she was and the affection she held for the person she thought he was.
She wants to scream,I didn’t know. How could I have known?
People always seem to blame the woman for a bad marriage. If he beats her, she shouldn’t have made him angry. If he’s cruel to her, she deserved it. If he lied to her, tricked her into a marriage… well, she should have known better, shouldn’t she?
But as stupid as Selene feels, she can’t help but think that deception is worse than naivety. She is not to blame for what the Duke did to her. He is.
The memories surge forward regardless, unbidden and vivid. All the days spent with Cassie, her mother, or her friends, revelling in the Duke’s attentions, giggling over his piercing blue eyes, his dark hair, his fine form. She had sung his praises with the fervour of an opera singer.
He’s so tall and handsome, so generous, so gentlemanly. What an excellent hunter he is, how fine a dancer.
No, he was nothing but a liar, and she was more than a fool.
“My lady? Are you quite all right?”
Here lies another problem with Dorian’s lie. Yes, it saved her from speaking to the Duke herself and from her parents forcing another match. But there are too many holes in his story. Cassie alone could unravel it, and if her parents offer enough money, Cassie might do so without hesitation.
Selene wants to believe Cassie is loyal. Never once has the girl ever acted outside her best interests, even at Blackthorn House and Nocturne Hall. But loyalty, Selene knows, can often be swayed by the right amount of coin. At least, she assumes so—she has never bribed anyone before. Should she offer Cassie something for her silence?
She bites her lip, uncertain how to proceed. Cassie probably suspects that Dorian is blackmailing her. The truth is out of the question, but perhaps she can offer some version of it.
Sighing, she takes Cassie’s hands and guides her towards the bed, sitting down beside her. It strikes Selene how long it has been since she last took Cassie’s hands in hers. They are rougher than she remembers, so different from her own.
“Cassie,” Selene begins, her voice low and solemn, mirroring Dorian’s tone from the garden. “I can’t tell you the full truth, but I don’t want to lie to you, either. I’ve learned something terrible about the Duke. I can’t say what it is, but I cannot marry him—for other people’s sake as well as my own. Lord Nightbloom is helping to keep me safe.”
Cassie’s brow furrows. “Is he forcing you to—”
“No, no,” Selene interrupts. “If anything, I’m forcing him. I promise, Lord Nightbloom has nothing to do with this except getting me out of it. He wasn’t the one to tell me about the Duke. That, I discovered on my own.”
“And you’re certain this information is trustworthy?”
Selene hesitates only a moment before nodding, a hundred moments racing through her. Cruel comments and crueler actions. Tight grips on her arms. Empty spaces in her room where treasured belongings used to be. Cold rooms, colder beds.
His smile when Ashvold invaded.
“I am,” she says firmly.
Cassie studies her, her expression unreadable. After a pause, she says, “All right. What do you need me to do?”
Relief floods Selene, and for a moment, she wants to embrace her. One doesn’t usually embrace their maids. Selene isn’t sure she cares so much for propriety any more.
