Chapter Twelve

With a sigh, he drank the dregs of his brandy and soon followed his cousin upstairs to change for dinner, his thoughts in turmoil after the roasting he had received. As a rational man, he knew Terrence was right—he had to do better as a husband. But somehow, his stubborn heart still fought against reason, tearing him in two. He had to make a hard choice. Could he go on punishing himself, as Terrence put it, by clinging to the cherished past as he had for so long? Or should he let it all go and try to make the best of this unwanted marriage?

I will try to do better at dinner and engage her in conversation as Terrence suggests. At least that way, he will not be able to say I have not tried.

Just before the hall clock chimed seven, he met Terrence in the dining room. Delicious savory aromas arose from the covered dishes on the splendidly laid table. They would have made Malcom's mouth water if he had not felt so tense.

"You are never late when it comes to your dinner, Cousin," he observed drily as they stood waiting for Cassandra to arrive, feeling the need to pierce Terrence's cheerful demeanor just a little, in mild revenge for being right.

"Never. As an active fellow, I must keep up my strength. And I must do my best for Cook, who has obligingly conjured up some of my favourites as always. I wish to do her efforts justice."

Malcom was just about to make a rude retort when the door opened, and Cassandra came in. Looking at her afresh, with Terrence's words still ringing in his ears, while she was greeting his cousin, Malcom took the time to look at her properly.

She looked breathtakingly lovely, moving across the room as graciously as any duchess, the skirts of her willow-green gown flowing falteringly around her legs as she walked. The color flattered the hazel-green of her eyes and brought out the pink blush on her softly rounded cheeks. Small emeralds glittered at her throat and ears, demonstrating a flair for understatement. Her long fair tresses shone in the candlelight and were piled artfully upon her head in a sophisticated style.

She is beautiful indeed .

The smile of greeting she gave Terrence when he kissed her hand was warm and welcoming, and for the first time, Malcom noticed the dimples in her cheeks. He found himself quite captivated by them. Terrence had not been lying when he had said that any other man would have been proud to have her as his wife.

Feeling a strange fluttering in his stomach, the thought of having her smile at him in such a fashion made him all the more determined to make an effort to be kind to her that evening.

"May I say, Your Grace—" Terrence began, but he was cut off.

"Oh, call me Cassandra, please. I cannot be doing with all that formality. We are family now, are we not?" she said good-naturedly in her lilting voice. Malcom's stomach fluttered again at the sound of it. "I certainly do not feel like a grand duchess at all," she continued. "I keep having to look behind me when people address me as Your Grace, quite forgetting it is my title now. I doubt I shall ever get used to it."

"Very well," his cousin replied, grinning. "In that case, may I say how ravishingly beautiful you look tonight, Cassandra? Your gown is very pretty. You look fit to grace London's finest ballrooms. And please call me Terrence."

Oh, God! They are already on first name terms.

"Thank you, Terrence, that is very kind. Alas, no ballrooms for me. But I am sure your company and an excellent dinner will more than make up for it."

So far, she had not looked at Malcom, but now she turned her smiling eyes upon him. However, the warmth she had shown his cousin had vanished.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she said, giving an elegant curtsey. "I trust you have had a productive day with you work. Your duties keep you very busy, I know."

Malcom hardly knew how to react. On the one hand, it was probably more than she had ever said to him in one go. On the other, he was sure he detected an edge of sarcasm to her voice.

"Good evening, Cassandra," he said with a bow. "Yes, thank you, I managed to get a lot done. I trust you have enjoyed your day also." He hurried to pull out her chair. Infuriatingly, Terrence got there first. He could only watch in frustration as, with a smile of thanks, she slid into her chair, allowing Terrence to push it in for her.

He glared secretly at Terrence, who gave him a sugary smile in return before they both sat down, with Malcom at the head of the table, Cassandra to his right, with Terrence opposite her.

"Cassandra, you do look charming this evening," Malcom said, knowing he should have been the one to say it first. But it could not be helped now. To his chagrin, her eyes flew wide, and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him with obvious astonishment. But it lasted only a second before she rearranged her features into a polite smile.

"Thank you," she said before turning to Terrence and asking him gaily for news of the Season. His cousin immediately launched into what was clearly an amusing anecdote about Lord Stimson being so fat that two footmen had had to lift him sideways out of his carriage before he could enter a ball.

Cassandra laughed as she followed the story. Malcom, feeling a little left out, could think of nothing else to do but carve the fowl he had been presented with and give the signal for dinner to commence. While he dissected the roast chicken, a footman poured the wine for the first course, while the other servants hurried to remove the lids from the dishes on the table. Through it all, Cassandra and Terrence kept up a lively conversation, full of frequent laughter. Her laughter had a musical quality that reminded him of her lovely singing voice.

"If you would like to pass your plates, I shall serve this chicken," Malcom said, interrupting them.

"Oh, yes, sorry," Cassandra said as if she had just noticed him. She passed him her plate, and he laid a few slices upon it before passing it back to her. When it came to serving, Terrence, he placed only a very small piece of chicken on it."

"I say, old man, do you intend to starve me?" Terrence complained, passing the plate back to Malcom when he saw his small portion.

"My apologies, Cousin," Malcom told him, reluctantly adding more of the meat and handing the plate back with a hard look.

"That's more like it," Terrence said, ignoring the look and reaching for the potatoes. Malcom served himself last and sat down to help himself to the other dishes. The servants returned to their waiting positions, and the meal began in earnest .

Malcom opened his mouth to say something when Terrence managed to start first.

"I had the pleasure of hearing your sister perform at Lady Frinton's musicale on Thursday evening, Cassandra. She played superbly. Bach, I'm told," Terrence said between mouthfuls.

"Did you? How splendid. I am sorry to have missed it. She is very good indeed. We are all proud of her talent," Cassandra replied, smiling at the news. However, Malcom detected a little wistfulness in her eyes at the same time and wondered if perhaps his wife was a little bit jealous of her sister's superior abilities on the keyboard.

As if reading his mind, she added, "I wish I could play like her, but even though we are sisters, it seems she has all the ability in that respect. I confess, as much as I love her, over the years, I have often felt a little jealous at her abilities and all the attention she gets because of them. It seems unfair, seeing as I am the eldest. I am joking, of course." She laughed again after this charmingly self-deprecating admission. Malcom could not help admiring her for being so candid about her shortcomings.

"Well, we all have our different talents, I find," Terrence said, spearing a piece of gravy-soaked chicken and popping it in his mouth.

"What are your talents, Terrence? Are you fond of music?" she asked with enthusiasm.

"I am in as much as I like a good tune and enjoy dancing. Other than that, I cannot claim to be an expert."

"So, you do not play a musical instrument?"

"Afraid not. I'm more of an outdoor fellow myself. Like to ride, like a bit of fishing and shooting, that sort of thing," Terrence said blithely, shooting Malcom a glance that said he should chime in. But before he could say anything, Cassandra went on.

"Oh, that is a shame," she said, sounding genuinely disappointed. "But as you say, we all have our talents." She applied herself to her food for a few moments. In the meantime, Terrence shot Malcom another encouraging look, clearly urging him to join in the conversation.

However, Cassandra forestalled him once again by saying. "And have you been to very many parties this Season, Terrence? Having grown up in London, it is very strange to me to be living out in the country and not attending any events this year. As you may know, it is Maggie's come out year, and I would have liked to be there for her throughout. She is very keen to find a suitor."

For some unknown reason, Malcom felt the stab of guilt. It occurred to him that they could have stayed in for the Season so that she could have attended her sister. But he immediately caught himself and ruthlessly crushed the feeling.

What am I thinking! I hate London and the Ton and the Season! I would not have stayed there for all the tea in the world!

"Indeed," Terrence was saying. "Her come out ball was splendid, a great success, was it not? I do not follow gossip myself, but as far as I have herd, she continues to impress with each appearance. She is very pretty and very accomplished. I am sure she must have a positive herd of eligible gentlemen interested in her by now."

To Malcom's surprise, his wife snorted with laughter in a most unladylike, but nevertheless very amusing, way.

"A herd! That is a very good way of describing them. I do not wish to be rude, but the gentlemen falling over themselves to fill in her dance card at her come out ball did so remind me of simpletons," she said.

Her laughter mingled with Terrence's and rang throughout the room. They continued chattering, getting on like old friends. They seemed so in accord, Malcom experienced a flash of something he could only identify as jealousy. It was an emotion he was largely unfamiliar with outside the schoolroom. It was deeply unsettling.

What have you got to be jealous about, you fool? You care nothing for her!

Confused by his own reaction, Malcom remained silent, watching them as he ate. He finished his first glass of wine quickly and indicated to the footman his desire for a refill. The footman immediately obliged.

He listened, feeling increasingly excluded, while Terrence and she continued to discuss balls and parties and people, all things he knew nothing about and was not interested in.

"I never thought I would say it, for I often complained of it, but I do miss the liveliness of London," Cassandra was saying, reflecting over her wine glass. "There was always something happening somewhere, somewhere nice to go or something interesting to see. I miss the theatres, the operas, and hearing the great orchestras play. I liked to visit the galleries and exhibitions too.

"Oh, indeed. One can never be tired of London," Terrence agreed.

"But what I do not miss is the Ton and all their silly rules," Cassandra went on, making Malcom's ears perk up further. "Even before my own unfortunate experience at its hands," she paused and shot him an indecipherable sideways glance before continuing, "I find it quite vexing how individuals, particularly young females such as myself, are compelled to undergo onerous tasks for what I perceive as frivolous justifications.

"If one has the misfortune to be born a girl into our society, one's prospects are severely limited. One relies on the whims of one's family for an education, which is usually sadly lacking. One is schooled to believe that the crowning achievement in life is finding a husband. I have always found such attitudes irksome.

"If one dares to read a book, one is labelled a bluestocking and regarded as an oddity. It is as if having an inquiring mind which prefers reading something educational, such as history or travel for instance, to chattering about the latest Paris fashions, one is somehow lacking. You gentlemen have all the advantages, a good education and liberty to live as you wish. While we are held back by a barrage of maddening rules."

By the time she had finished her speech, both Terrence and Malcom were staring at her in rapt attention, open mouthed, but Malcom guessed it was for quite different reasons.

He was well aware that such radical ideas were quite foreign to his cousin, who had a very traditional outlook on women's place in society's hierarchy. Whereas Cassandra's opinion on the subject of the Ton's immense, unreasoning stupidity and unfairness seemed to echo his own uncannily.

"Well, well, well, it seems we have a rebel on our hands, Malcom," Terrence cried, grinning widely, inevitably turning it into a joke.

"Of course, I do not expect you to take me seriously," Cassandra said with a good-natured smile. "I am quite used to being ridiculed for my opinions. My own family laugh at me for them," she admitted.

Secretly impressed by her intelligence and humility, Malcom could not stop himself from saying, "I do not find them laughable opinions at all. On the contrary, I find them to be very sensible. The Ton is a gigantic pain, no doubt about it. That is why I prefer to avoid it altogether."

Cassandra turned her head and looked at him with her big hazel eyes as if he had spoken in ancient Greek. He felt his cheeks flushing with heat under her searching gaze. Terrence was also staring at him, his fork poised in mid-air.

***

Cassandra was absolutely astonished. After having hardly spoken two words throughout the whole meal, Malcom had suddenly burst out and appeared, at first sight, to agree with what she had just been saying. In fact, part of what she had been saying—namely, the part about some women not seeing marriage as something to be desired above all else—had been directed at him.

She had wanted to communicate indirectly that she herself was among that number. Having no other avenue open to her, she had made use of the situation to try to make it clear that being married to him, duke or not, was not something that, in normal circumstances, she would have chosen for herself. In short, he should be made to understand that he did not have the monopoly on misery!

But on the other hand, she could not help wondering what he meant by calling the Ton ‘a giant pain.' Was that his way of showing his resentment at the way he had been forced to marry her through social pressure from their class after their unfortunate mishap? It could certainly be interpreted that way. If that was his meaning, then he would appear to be insulting her in front of their guest.

Since she did not want to be seen to lower herself to that same level, she decided to ignore him.

It is not as if he contributes anything to the conversation.