Chapter Twenty Two

Cassandra sobbed until she had no more tears inside her. Reeling from Malcom's blunt rejection in the music room, she began to feel the room closing in on her, as if she was suffocating.

I have to get out!

Heedless of the fact that her family and Diana were imminently due at Lindenhall or that she was still attired in a pretty day dress quite unsuitable for riding, she hurried from her chamber and down the staircase before making her way to the rear courtyard entrance. Once outside, oblivious as to whether anyone was watching, she picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could to the stables. All she wanted to do was get away.

She reached the stables and waited, hiding behind the door for few minutes for the only groom she could see to leave and go up to the offices above. She could hear the stablemen talking up there. Once the groom had left, she entered, and her attention was immediately met by the demanding neigh of Sheba in her shadowed stall. The high-spirited horse was pacing anxiously as if sensing the hurricane of emotion whirling inside this unexpected visitor.

"You want to get away too, do you?" Cassandra whispered, in her distracted state quite forgetting Malcom's previous stern warning that the temperamental Sheba was entirely unsuitable for riding. Gripped by an unfamiliar recklessness fuelled by her acute emotional pain, her sole desperate thought was to escape the suffocating humiliation she felt and flee deep into the remote reaches of the estate, to nurse her shattered heart in solitude after being so callously rejected by the man she loved.

"Come on, then, girl," she murmured, opening the stall door and leading the horse out by the halter. A saddle and blanket were resting on top of the wooden partition by the stall, so she grabbed them and quickly saddled Sheba. The Arabian mare obligingly stood calmly as Cassandra tightened the girth straps beneath the belly, perhaps sensing freedom from her restrictive prison was coming.

Minutes later, sitting astride Sheba, Cassandra galloped heedlessly from the stable courtyard and out into Lindenhall's vast acres, urging Sheba onward at an ever-faster pace. Yet no matter how fast and far they raced, Cassandra could not outrun the awful echoes of Malcom's rejection.

"Cassandra . . . I cannot . . . I cannot return your feelings. I am sorry, but I just cannot."

They rode and rode, with Cassandra low in the saddle, gripping the reins tightly, giving the horse its head. The wind tore at her hair and at Sheba's mane, as if the two had become one in their desperation to escape. They were several miles from the manor, in a place Cassandra had not been before, a bridle path that ran between an open field and the side of a wooded area to her right, where she glimpsed a steep incline leading down to a rocky ravine through the trees.

Without warning, a pheasant suddenly exploded from the brush in a burst of noise and feathers. Before Cassandra knew what was happening Sheba screamed shrilly in fear, skidded to a halt, and reared up on her back legs, her hooves thrashing violently at the air before coming crashing down, brutally jarring Cassandra and threatening to topple her from her seat.

"It's all right, girl, it's all right!" Cassandra shouted, pulling back on the reins sharply in an attempt to control the panicked horse. But Sheba was not to be soothed and reared up once more. Cassandra felt herself losing her grip. Powerless to do anything to save herself, she was suddenly violently pitched sideways out of the saddle and into thin air.

The earth came rushing up and impacted her body with brutal force, sending shockwaves through her, rattling her bones, and forcing the breath from her lungs. She felt herself spinning, rolling toward the edge of the precipice, blinded by white hot pain as she shot over the edge, hitting several tree trunks and boulders as she tumbled down the sharp incline to the bottom. She finally came to rest when her head connected sharply with a large rock. The last coherent sensation she recalled was Sheba's panicked squealing and pounding hooves as they faded rapidly into the distance.

Then, a merciful blackness descended as she passed into oblivion.

** *

You should have gone after her, you fool, you shouldn't have just let her go like that!

Back at Lindenhall, Malcom was sitting in the silence of his study, staring blankly at the closed door, the glass of brandy in his hand forgotten. Cassandra's anguished parting words were still echoing relentlessly through his mind like the tolling of a bell heralding his doom. He raked a hand through his hair repeatedly, cursing himself, calling himself an idiot for failing to call her back.

You should have met her brave admission with the joy, honesty, and respect it deserved and told her that you return her feelings with an overwhelming passion the like of which you have never known before—that you love her with every fibre of your being!

But the vicious little voice in his head laughed and said, ‘ It would have been no good going after her . . . you are damaged and incapable of expressing this love you hold for her, this tumultuous affection flooding every chamber of your battered heart. You have allowed your demons to triumph by means of your irrational fears, to sabotage the first glimmer of happiness you've known since you killed your parents. It is only what you deserve!

He was jolted from his self-recriminations when a knock sounded on the study door.

"Come in," he murmured, half hoping, half afraid it might be Cassandra that returned. But it was Hannah. The housekeeper looked worried.

"What is it?" he asked irritably, disappointed.

"Your Grace, Lord and Lady Granshire and their party have arrived."

"Oh, God," Malcom muttered under his breath. In his anguish, he had forgotten all about Cassandra's family coming. How on earth were they going to get through the next four days pretending everything was well between them? He sat up and put down his brandy on a side table, once more running a distracted hand through his hair. His thoughts were so disordered, he could hardly take in the news.

Making an effort to compose himself, he asked, "Where is my wife? She will wish to greet them."

"That is the problem, Your Grace," Hannah said, her face creased with concern. "We cannot find her anywhere. She seems to have disappeared. We are all looking for her, but she does not seem to be in the house."

"All right. Put them in the drawing room and offer them refreshments. Tell them Cassandra has been unavoidably delayed and that I will be there shortly."

"Very good, Your Grace," Hannah replied, bobbing a curtsey before she left.

With an inward groan, Malcom dragged a hand roughly down his face. He got up and smoothed his coat, steeling himself to somehow pretend to be the gracious host, whilst in reality, his marriage to the daughter of the very people who were now his guests lay in ruins about him.

To be forced to engage her family in banal pleasantries would have been torture enough at the best of times. But the prospect of having to do so while knowing that his entire future happiness was likely fleeing from him through the gathering dust at that very moment, nursing her broken heart, was beyond excruciating.

"Oh, Lord, what am I going to say to them?" he groaned to himself as he finally left the room to go the drawing room and face what could be his nemesis.

"Your Grace, I hope you will not think me rude if I ask why you alone are here to greet us without my daughter?" Lord Granshire was on his feet and confronting Malcom as soon as he stepped through the door and wished them all a good day. Over the Marquess's shoulder, he noticed Cassandra's sister and Lady Diana exchanging uneasy glances. Her mother was frowning worriedly.

Malcom summoned a hearty smile and lied blatantly. "Yes, it is unfortunate that she has been slightly delayed. However, I promise you she will be joining us presently. Do take your ease and enjoy the refreshments." Tea had already been served he noticed with relief. It was something to keep them occupied and distract them from the wait.

"Very well," the Marquess agreed, not looking at all convinced. While the others were seating themselves, whispering to each other over their teacups, Malcom discreetly sidled to the door and instructed a waiting footman to return shortly and announce dinner would be delayed. Then, he joined the party, steeling himself to play the dutiful host until Cassandra arrived.

"I trust you had a pleasant journey," he said, seating himself stiffly in an armchair.

"As pleasant as can be expected, thank you," the Marquess said, clearly disgruntled. It was obvious he suspected something fishy was afoot. The man was clearly no fool. In fact, the whole party seemed on edge.

"I must say, it is a pleasure to see you all again. We have not met since the . . . wedding, I believe," Malcom said, trying his best to sound jovial.

"We have not, Your Grace," Lady Granshire chimed in, her tone rather pointed. "And as that was some time ago, you can imagine that we were very pleased to receive Cassandra's invitation."

"Ah! Splendid. I know she is very excited about showing you the house and the estate," Malcom said, maintaining his false smile, while his stomach tied in knots.

"I do hope she is all right. I cannot help wondering what is keeping her. It is not like Cassandra to be tardy," Lady Diana said suddenly, her auburn curls a vivid flash of colour beneath her bonnet.

"Indeed not," Lady Margaret echoed, her pretty little mouth turning downwards.

"I know she is as impatient to see you all as you are her. I am sure she will be here very shortly." Please, Cassandra, please come back . . .

An uncomfortable silence descended over the room, broken only by the occasional chink of china meeting china. Malcom scrabbled helplessly for small talk but failed to come up with anything. He was starting to panic when salvation arrived in the form of the footman coming to announce dinner would be delayed until her Grace arrived.

This did nothing to reassure his guests.

"I say, Your Grace, is everything all right?" the Marquess inquired in a forthright manner, getting up from his seat. "She is not ill, is she?"

"Oh, no, she is very well," Malcom fibbed, "it is just a short delay, that is all." But fate decided not to back him, for at that very moment, Carlton appeared in the open doorway behind the departing footman and, bowing, said, "Your Grace, your presence is required immediately in the hall."

Sensing the tension in his usually sanguine manservant's voice, Malcom replied, "Very well." He quickly turned and bowed to his guests. "Do excuse me one moment." He followed Carlton out into the hall.

"What is it, Carlton? Where is she?" he inquired in harsh whisper.

The butler leaned in close and replied in hushed tones, "We do not know exactly, Your Grace, but I have just been informed by the stableman that the horse Sheba is missing from the stables.

"Oh, God, no!" Malcom exclaimed, cold panic gripping him as he realized with horror that Cassandra must have taken out the unpredictable Sheba. He tried to think what to do, but over Carlton's shoulder he spied a mud-spattered stable boy, twisting his cap in his hands, appear at the open front door. Carlton spotted him too.

"What is it, lad?" he asked, beckoning the boy forward.

"'It is Sheba, Sir, she been spotted by one of the grooms, running riderless on one of the bridleways by the north woods," the boy stuttered.

"I knew it!" A roar came from behind them that made them all turn in unison.

"What has happened to my daughter?!" Lord Granshire was storming up to them, his face red with anger. "I demand to know what you are hiding, Sir," he demanded of Malcom.

"You may leave, boy," Malcom quickly dismissed the stable lad, who ran off through the front door looking frightened out of his wits. His stomach churning with dread and barely managing to maintain his outward composure, Malcom exchanged a look with Carlton. The butler nodded and withdrew to a discreet distance, awaiting orders.

Malcom turned to Cassandra's father and said as placatingly as he could, "I'm afraid it seems that Cassandra was out riding on a problematic horse and has now gone unexpectedly missing."

A panic that mirrored his own flared in the Marquess's eyes, and the man's face blanched in sudden fear .

"Then what are you doing to find her, Your Grace? I demand you organise a search for her with no delay!" he declared.

Needing no second bidding, Malcom turned to Carlton and the small tribe of footmen who had gathered around him.

"Bring lanterns and ropes, gather as many hands as you can to search the estate for my wife. And someone go to the stables and tell them to ready Zeus, my fastest horse. I shall be there directly," he barked, realizing he could not delay joining the urgent search himself. Cassandra, the woman he loved, was out there somewhere in the gathering dusk, possible laying injured. He had to get to her!

"I am coming with you," her father suddenly declared.

"There is no—" Malcom began, but the Marquess abruptly cut him off.

"She is my daughter. I am joining the search, I tell you!" he shouted. His wife suddenly appeared in the doorway of the drawing room, her face contorted with worry.

"What on earth is all the commotion, dear?" she asked.

"Cassandra has gone missing on some unpredictable horse it seems," her husband replied.

"Oh, Lord!" the Marchioness cried, her hand flying to her mouth.

"We are forming a search party to find her," the Marquess went on. "Go back in the drawing room and keep the others calm until we return," her husband commanded her in a tone that could not be denied. The Marchioness nodded and disappeared back into the drawing room, closing the door. Malcom was grateful for the man's forthright manner.

The search party gathered on the drive by the front door. Lanterns and ropes were distributed, and the Marquess assumed command of the men, dividing them up into pairs to better aid the search. He paired up with Carlton, who knew the estate well and helped assign. They headed up towards the northern part of the estate, towards the woods where Sheba had last been spotted running riderless.

Zeus was brought round. Without hesitation, Malcom swung into the saddle and kicked up the stallion, which took off into fast gallop in the same northerly direction, quickly surging ahead of the searchers on foot .

With only the stars and the light of a half moon to guide him, Malcom slowed Zeus to a walk, his eyes straining as he peered into every hedgerow, every hollow, every shadowed clump of trees, trying to pick out any hint of Cassandra's presence.

He shouted her name over and over, hearing it echoing back to him from the other searchers off in the distance as they too looked for her. But after what seemed like an eternity of searching, with no answer from Cassandra to his increasingly frantic calls, Malcom, swamped with deep despair, feared the worst.

And if the worst has happened, then you alone are responsible. She ran from you, and if anything has happened to her, it will be your fault. Just like it was before.

Then, as he was riding down a remote bridleway between an open field and a copse, which he well knew housed a steep ravine, he was searching for signs of her passing when he saw the plants and undergrowth by the trees bordering the ravine had been crushed.

With hope leaping in his chest, he leapt from the saddle and threw the reigns around a low-hanging branch. He crept carefully through the trees and rocks to the edge of the ravine.

"Oh, God, no!" he exclaimed, terror gripping his heart with icy fingers as he looked down and saw at the bottom of the steep incline, illuminated by the moonlight, the fragile, senseless body of his wife.

"Over here!" he bellowed, hoping the others would hear him. "This way! By the ravine!" Vaulting recklessly down the slippery slope, he soon reached her and fell to his knees, seeing blood matting her hair. He realized it had come from a deep gash in her head from where she had collided with a large boulder nearby.

"Oh, my love, I am so sorry, it is all my fault," he murmured, in an agony of self-hate as he gathered Cassandra's limp form gently into his arms. His throat constricted in relief to hear her still shallowly breathing as he urgently gathered her close to his chest and bore her up the arduous incline towards the waiting Zeus.

He somehow got her in front of him as he swung into the saddle, clutching her tightly to him as he set off home as quickly as he dared. He emerged in into open land and saw some of the searchers topping a ridge about half a mile distant, their lanterns swinging.

"I have her!" he shouted to them. Shouts echoed through the darkness as they turned and began to follow his lead back towards the manor. The front door stood open when he arrived back at the house, with Hannah and some of the maids peering anxiously out from inside. Malcom slid from the saddle, cradling Cassandra's immobile from in his arms as he hurried into the hall. They all looked horrified, and one of the maids began to cry.

The housekeeper rushed up to him.

"Oh Your Grace—" she began, her hand at her mouth. Malcom cut her off.

"Send for the physician immediately," he barked, "and inform the family she has been found and that the physician is on the way. Keep them in the drawing room until he has seen her." Not pausing to say any more, only vaguely hearing Hannah's response, he took the stairs two at a time and headed straight for his chambers. There, he laid Cassandra tenderly down upon his bed.

Mr. Lewis, the family physician completed his examination of the still unconscious and badly bruised Cassandra and looked over at Malcom, who was standing pacing at the other side of the bed.

"Will she recover?" he asked anxiously, his heart sinking to his boots to see the grave look on Mr. Lewis's face.

"Let us go outside and speak," the physician said, picking up his bag.

"Yes, yes, of course." Malcom stuttered. When he opened the door, he saw that Casaandra's family and Lady Diana had gathered in the hallway, all looking anxious and restless. Anna was there too, her eyes red with recent tears.

"Anna, will you go in and sit with her for a moment, please, while we speak with Mr. Lewis?" Malcom asked the maid.

Anna bobbed a quick curtsey and hurried inside. Malcom closed the door.

"What is the prognosis, Mr. Lewis? Will she recover?" he asked. The family gathered around to hear what the physician had to say.

"It is difficult to say with any certainty," he said gravely. "She has taken a nasty knock to her head, which means she likely has a concussion, and she has many cuts and abrasions. I cannot say what internal injuries she may have sustained."

The Marchioness broke down at that point and began sobbing, a handkerchief to her face. Her daughter put her arm around her to comfort her, but she too had tears in her eyes. The Marquess looked on stoically, but Malcom could see fear in the man's eyes. Lady Diana was as white as sheet. Malcom's blood ran cold as the physician continued his report.

"However, she appears to be stable for the moment, and youth is on her side. But she will need constant watching. The next few hours will prove critical. Due to the injury to her head and the possibility of a serious concussion, I must advise you all to prepare yourselves for things to take a turn for the worse."

"What do you mean?" the Marquess cried, his face contorted with fear.

"I mean, My Lord, that she may not awaken at all."

Upon hearing this grim assessment, Cassandra's mother released a strangled sob and collapsed against her husband's shoulder. Lady Margaret, still trying to comfort her mother, began weeping softly. Lady Diana wrapped a consoling arm about her trembling frame.

Though maintaining an outward veneer of stoic composure, Malcom inwardly blanched at the physician's ominous words. They stabbed at his very soul with chilling force like daggers. The stark truth concerning the possibly fatal outcome of his failure to overcome his demons was now staring him unmercifully in the face.

Beneath the scars of the past, he knew he loved Cassandra with a searing intensity. He loved and admired everything about the joy and creativity and understanding she had so selflessly brought into his lonely world these past weeks since their rushed matrimony had begun. And now, just as he had been on the very cusp of embracing that love rather than recoiling from it with his familiar paralysing fear, this horrific accident threatened to steal Cassandra away from him.

While the family asked the physician questions in hushed tones, Malcom stood like a statue, reflecting numbly on how utterly and completely essential Cassandra had become to him in a few short weeks. She could not suspect how deeply she was engraved upon his heart .

The charming young lady he once dismissed as merely a frivolous socialite had gradually illuminated all the hidden shadows still haunting him with her patient wisdom. She had penetrated his deepest fortified walls with her persistent tenderness and compassion until, finally, he simply could not envision living out a solitary future bereft of her beloved companionship to guide him out of the darkness.

After Mr. Lewis had left them, promising to call in and check on Cassandra on the morrow, Malcom came back to himself. He knew that as Cassandra's husband and the host, he needed to take charge of the situation, that he was not the only one lamenting the situation.

"I shall sit with her throughout the night," he told them. "I think it best that you retire to your chambers and try to get some rest now. I will inform you if anything changes. I will have a maid show you to your rooms."

"Very well," the Marquess agreed, looking stricken but also weary. "Perhaps that is for the best. Come my, dear," he said, turning to his wife and daughter. "We can do no more here for the moment."

Malcom did not have the heart to bid them good night. He went back into his chambers and instructed a tearful Anna to show them to their sleeping quarters. When she had left the room, glad to be alone with his wife at last, he went to the bed and sank down heavily onto the mattress next to her unconscious form. He gently enfolded her heavily bandaged hand between both of his own.

With his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of an unspeakable dread that threatened to overwhelm him, he began to recount in hushed, fervent tones all the treasured moments of their fledgling marriage bond.

"Do you remember that first time we walked in the rose garden together? I recall vividly the conversation we had then, arguing whether we preferred Bach to Mozart and who was capable of moving the human heart the most, simply with a few beautifully expressed chords? And when we had those lively debates in the music room over our favourite ballads? It was the first time since Mother that I had had such conversations with anyone.

"We talked and played and sang late into the night, did we not? You do not know how I treasured those times, Cassandra, because I was not able to voice how much they meant to me, how much your company means to me. To play those soothing classical duets with you, side by side at the piano, the notes of the instrument and your heavenly intertwining upon the lingering notes, I swear, it was like you were breathing new life into me."

Choking back his pent-up emotion, Malcom gazed down upon her delicate features, her eyes still closed.

"Yours is the face of the woman I love with all my heart and soul. Forgive me for what I said this morning, for turning your loving declaration away in such a barbarous manner. I did not mean it. Please, Cassandra, come back to me, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I cannot lose you now, not when we have only just begun to create this unique melody that unites our two hearts."

A sob burst from his lips as he gripped her slender fingers through the bandage, as if though sheer will alone, he could tether her there with him. He bowed his head and for the first time in six years, he prayed. His prayers were desperate pleas to the Almighty.

Let her awaken, Lord, let her come back to me, I beg of you. I cannot, I do not wish, to live without her. She is the joy of my life . . .

He remained like that, gazing down at her beautiful face, holding her hand in his, gently stroking her soft cheek, whispering his love to her as the long hours of the night ticked interminably by. Eventually, the silvery light of dawn began filtering softly through the drapes at the windows, heralding a new day.

Just as the birds began their chorus outside, Cassandra suddenly stirred upon her pillow. Malcom gasped, and his whole body tensed as hope shot through him. Had the Lord answered his prayers?

"Malcom?" she whispered hoarsely, her eyelids fluttering. Then, miraculously, she opened her eyes. Malcom clutched her hand more tightly, leaning over her.

"Yes, my love, I am here," he murmured, his voice trembling. On tenterhooks, he watched as lovely hazel eyes slowly came back into hazy focus and fixed upon his face. She smiled weakly at him, and she felt her fingers grasp him through the bandage. "Lord, thank you, thank you, for sending her back to me!" he breathed, relief crashing over him with all the force of the ocean's tide. "I am here, darling." He tenderly brushed back the stray golden tresses from her clammy brow.

"Malcom, what happened?" she asked. "Am I ill?"

"You had a fall from Sheba," he told her gently. "Do you remember?"

She looked puzzled, confusion filling her eyes. Then she said, "I-I think so but, my head is throbbing." She put her other hand up to her head, by the gash, encountering another bandage. She looked surprised to feel it there. "I think I hit my head on a rock."

"You did, my love, but I think you are going to get better now you are awake. We did not know if you would wake up."

"How did you find me?"

"When I learned the Sheba was missing from the stables and was spotted running loose, we formed a search party. I searched for you, and I found you at the bottom of a ravine."

"Oh, thank you for coming to find me, Malcom," she said, trying to push herself up by her elbows. But then she winced with pain and laid back down.

"I would have searched the four corners of the earth to find you, Cassandra. my darling. And it was all my fault, I drove you away. I am so sorry for what I said this morning. I was a stupid fool. Please forgive me," he begged her contritely.

"Of course, I forgive you," she told him without hesitation.

"May I have a drink of water? My throat is so dry, it aches," she asked.

"Of course." He let go of her hand and hurriedly poured her a glass from the

carafe on the nightstand. "Here, let me help you." He tenderly slid his arms

around her and cradled her as he helped her to sip the water.

"Oh, that is better," she told him with a grateful smile as he laid her gently back down.

"Do you feel up to having some visitors?" he asked, returning her smile,

his heart overflowing with tenderness for her.

"Visitors?" She looked surprised .

"Your family are here, and your friend, Lady Diana. They are all waiting

anxiously to hear how you are."

"Oh! They are here? I forgot! Yes, of course, I would love to see them."

"I shall send word," he told her, going to pull the bell rope to summon a

servant. It was Anna who appeared at the door just a few minutes later.

"Oh, my dearest Lady, I am so glad to see you awake. I was so worried for you," the maid gushed, coming over to the bed, in her joy, quite forgetting to curtsey to Malcom. He did not even notice, for he was so happy.

"Will you tell Her Grace's family that she is awake and would like to see them?" Malcom asked. "And also inform Carlton and Mrs. Brown."

"Oh, Your Grace, I am so sorry," Anna cried, now bobbing a curtsey. "I shall tell them at once." With a beaming smile for Cassandra, she hurried from the room.

First through the door was her mother, her face alight with joy and relief as she rushed toward the bed and gently embraced Cassandra. Malcom stood back, smiling, while they gathered around the bed with expressions of delight.

"My darling, thank goodness you are awake. I have not slept a wink worrying about you," the Marchioness declared, her eyes shining with happy tears.

"Oh, Mama, I am so glad to see you," Cassandra told her, hugging her back as much as her injuries would allow.

"How are you feeling, Cassie?" asked Lady Margaret, hot on her mother's heels. She leaned over and planted a kiss on Cassandra's cheek before letting out a little sob and embracing her sister.

"Oh, darling Maggie!" How happy I am to see your face. You are the best medicine," Cassandra told her, beaming and hugging her back warmly as though she was the one comforting her sister. Malcom was touched to see the affection between the pair, considering the envy Cassandra had confessed to over her sister's musical talents. Clearly, it did nothing to alter her deep love for her Maggie .

"Darling, you cannot imagine how relieved I am to see you awake," Lady Melville said, the next to come forward and kiss and embrace Cassandra. "Do not ever do anything like that again. You frightened us all so badly, I could not stand it!" Diana declared with naked affection for her friend.

"I promise, my dear. Oh, it does me good to see you and know you are here. I am so sorry this is how your visit has turned out. I apologise. It was very thoughtless of me, I admit," Cassandra told her, her face wreathed in smiles.

The last to come to the bedside was the Marquess. Malcom could see that he was not altogether successful at concealing the depth of his emotions at seeing his daughter awake.

"My darling girl," he said gruffly, sounding close to tears himself. "I thank the Lord for sending you back to us."

"Oh, Papa!" Cassandra reached up to him, tears suddenly falling from her eyes as he bent down and gave her a fatherly cuddle. "I have missed you so much," she whispered.

"I too, my dearest girl," the older man murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Father and daughter remained like that for several moments, their love for each other almost palpable. Malcom had to wipe a tear from his eye to see the tender exchange.

They were still gathered around Cassandra when the arrival of Mr. Lewis was announced. Malcom welcomed him before escorting the family and Diana out into the hall while the physician examined the patient. In sharp contrast to the previous night, the conversation was far more relaxed, for they were all so relieved, and conversation flowed freely as they exchanged their thoughts on Cassandra. Malcom could not help noticing what a close, warm family they were, and Lady Diana impressed him with her calm, good sense.

They all hushed when the chamber door opened at last and Mr. Lewis appeared, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"How is she, Mr. Lewis?" Malcom asked, still anxious for Cassandra to make a full recovery. His anxiety melted away when the grey-haired, bewhiskered physician smiled.

"Well, she is awake, which is, of course, a very good sign. I think I may say with some confidence that she is out of danger from a concussion. That too is a great blessing. However, understandably, her constitution will be weakened after enduring such a violent shock and the subsequent prolonged unconsciousness. But the worst of the danger has passed, I feel fairly certain."

Malcom felt almost weak with relief, and a collective sigh came from the others, mingled with thankful mutterings to the Almighty for His help in delivering Cassandra from further danger.

"Her body only requires ample rest and care over the coming weeks to fully mend," the physician continued. "But I anticipate that she will make a steady if gradual recovery back to full health and strength."

"Thank you, Sir," the Marquess said, grasping and pumping Mr. Lewis's hand enthusiastically.

"Yes, Mr. Lewis, we are very grateful to you," Malcom seconded, suddenly unable to stop smiling.

Once the physician had gone, they all filed back into the chamber and surrounded Cassandra once again. But this time, Malcom noticed the atmosphere was lighter and even quite cheerful as Lady Diana and her family lingered, holding her hands and soothing her brow, smiles of radiant relief lifting their drawn expressions.

However, when her mother noticed her elder daughter was looking tired, she said, "I think it is time to let Cassandra rest, my dears. And I expect the Duke would appreciate having his wife to himself for a little while." She bestowed a beaming smile on Malcom, who could not help but return the gesture. So, albeit a little reluctantly, they all slowly wished Cassandra a good rest and hoped that she should feel better soon before filing out of the room to go and have some breakfast, leaving Malcom alone with her at last.

The instant her family had gone, and the door was firmly shut behind them, Cassandra reached out her arms to Malcom. Eagerly, he hurried over to her and sat by her on the bed. She took his face tenderly between her palms.

"Malcom, I want to apologise to you for giving you such a fright. I was very foolish to take Sheba out like that. It was utterly reckless of me, and the resulting accident and my injuries are due solely to the decisions of my disturbed state at the time, following our . . . misunderstanding in the music room earlier. "

"Hush, my love—" he began, urgently wanting to refute her claim.

"No, I must insist that you take not a whit of blame upon yourself for what has happened. The fault was mine alone, and I beg you to forgive me for my foolishness," she broke in, gently releasing him.

Malcom thought his heart would burst with love for her, yet at the same time, he could not help the small smile that crept to his lips at her humility.

"I cannot agree that any of this is your fault, but if you wish it, then you have my forgiveness. I would forgive you anything, my sweet angel." He drew closer to her, stroking her cheek and looking tenderly into her eyes. "You see, my darling, there are many things I have not told you that I know now I should have at the beginning."

"What is it , my love?" she asked softly, her beautiful eyes brimming with affection. Haltingly at first but then with building confidence spurred by her frank and gentle gaze, he finally told her all about his past.

"You know I lost my parents six years ago and that life stopped for me after that." He paused, to see she was regarding him intently.

"Yes, I know."

"Well, I must tell you what happened and the reason why I have been so cold to you and shamefully rejected your sweet declaration of affection yesterday. You see, six years ago, on the night of a terrible storm, my parents were on their way to Town, to visit me on my invitation.

"I had bought a new house, and I was so excited about it, I could not wait for them to see it. I sent them a note, telling them to come at once. Of course, they could not deny me. So, despite their better judgement, they took their carriage and set out on the journey from Lindenhall to my new address. But when they were only halfway there, a bolt of lightning hit a nearby tree just as they were passing . . . and it fell upon the carriage, crushing them both and killing them both instantly." The words felt wrenched from his soul, and he bowed his head to choke back tears.

"Oh, Malcom, how terrible!" Cassandra cried, grasping his hand tightly .

"The thing is, Cassandra, it was all my fault. Do you see? If I had not insisted that they come at once because I was so eager to show off the house, then they would likely be alive today. I not only lost them both in a horrific way, but I also have to live with the fact that I was responsible for their deaths." For some reason he could hardly fathom, it felt as if a weight was falling from his shoulders as he confessed his feelings of guilt to the woman he loved so much.

"Oh, my poor darling, come here," she said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him to her breast, and cradling him in her arms as she stroked his hair.

"That moment, when I heard the terrible news, forever altered my existence," Malcom confessed wretchedly even as he found comfort in Cassandra's arms. "After that, I withdrew from the world, unable to forgive myself for what I had done. I closed myself off, rejecting all my friends. I shut myself away here. I shut up the music room, and I stopped playing music altogether. It was my mother's favourite place, and it did not seem right to use it or enjoy music anymore when it was my fault that she was dead. I built walls around my heart to keep people out, telling myself I was not worthy of happiness. I deserved nothing but loneliness and a lonely death, to atone for my crime.

He gently pulled away from her to look deeply into her eyes. "But then you entered my world so unexpectedly. I tried my hardest to keep you out, but day by day, your generous patience and compassion gently wore down my defences. Until finally . . . miraculously . . . you managed to illuminate all the lingering shadows, all the demons that held me so firmly in their grasp. You, with your radiant light, have at last released my trapped spirit."

"My poor darling, how you have suffered," Cassandra told him, her eyes brimming with unabashed love.

His voice catching with profound emotion, Malcom continued speaking, wanting to get everything he had been holding back for so long out in the open.

"And now, my darling Cassandra, I want to tell you how grateful I am for all you have done for me, for loving me despite everything. I desperately want to build a new life with you at my side forever. I want us to be true soulmates. That is, if you can manage to find it somewhere within your heart to forgive me. For you must know by now that I have fallen completely and irreversibly in love with you."

***

Cassandra's heart fluttered rapidly as she absorbed Malcom's raw confession of enduring love for her.

"My darling," she told him softly, through tears of joy, cradling his face in her hands. "We have already come so far together, though the way has been hard and full of obstacles. Yet here we are, sharing our deepest, most tender thoughts, as only true soulmates can do.

"There is nothing that can hold us back from finding lasting happiness with each other now. I have perfect faith that our bond will endure, and that this wonderful love we have found in each other shall continue lighting the way ahead, carrying us forward into a happy future where we can weather any storm together. I love you with all my heart and soul, my darling Malcom."

"Oh, my sweet Cassandra, how lucky I am to have found you, the light of my life. I shall do everything in my power from this day forward to make you happy. I love you so much!"

They embraced tightly, and finally, his lips found hers, and they shared a tender, loving kiss.