Chapter 117

"There are things you may have heard about my mother that aren’t entirely accurate," he continued.

The statement had precisely the effect he intended. Cassandra’s interest was piqued.

"I can’t say I know much about your family. For all you claim to be my friend, you’ve managed to keep that part of your life very private."

Draven reclined against the seat opposite her. The carriage seemed to grow smaller with him inside it. His presence had a way of filling whatever space he occupied, making the already confined interior feel even more cramped. Cassandra was acutely aware of it as she sat across from him.

"Have you ever heard the term ’The Lion of Norham’?"

Cassandra considered the question for a moment.

"Once, when I was little," she answered. "It isn’t very commonly mentioned these days."

"The Lion of Norham is the Montague crest, and it is the name people have long associated with my family. My grandfather carried that reputation particularly well, so most people assumed his son would do the same. But they were wrong." Draven smiled. "My mother embodied that title far more than he ever did. She is, beyond any reasonable doubt, the lion of Norham. She does not go looking for people to hurt, nor is she needlessly cruel. But if someone threatens her family, she becomes a very different woman. She is fiercely protective, and very little frightens her."

Draven’s gaze dropped to her engagement band. "The ring you’re wearing should tell you something. It belonged to my mother. She would never have given it to me if she did not approve of this union."

Cassandra touched the ring lightly, her mind churning with conflicting emotions. On one hand, she knew Draven was trying to reassure her. On the other, she felt a pang of guilt knowing the ring had once belonged to Octavia, particularly because they were deceiving her and everyone else about the true nature of their relationship.

Octavia entrusted Draven with something personal and precious. That was hardly the gesture of a woman who intended to greet her son’s intended bride with hostility.

How was Cassandra supposed to look the woman in the eye now?

Draven, however, did not seem to be suffering from the same moral dilemma.

She released a heavy sigh. "So what do you recommend?"

"You should simply be honest with her," Draven said. "My mother values honesty above almost everything else. If she asks you something, answer plainly. She has little patience for people who twist themselves into knots trying to tell her what they think she wants to hear."

Cassandra finally managed a small smile. "I think I can manage that."

"I know you can."

His confidence in her made her stomach flutter. Cassandra refused to examine the reaction any more closely. For the sake of her sanity, it was probably best forgotten.

"And your sister?" she prompted. "What should I expect from Eugenia?"

Draven’s lips curved. "Genie likes to feel good about herself, like anyone else. Flattery will take you a long way with her."

"That is your advice?"

"It is the advice of an older brother who has known her all her life."

Cassandra shook her head, amused despite herself.

The rest of the journey passed with surprising ease. Their conversation drifted from one small subject to another until the carriage finally turned toward Draven’s residence in Caldor.

Cassandra looked through the window as the large house came into view. She had never seen it before.

Draven’s home stood on extensive grounds, rising beyond carefully maintained gardens and broad stretches of manicured lawn. There was an elegance to the estate, the sort that spoke of generations of wealth.

When the carriage came to a stop, Draven stepped down first and immediately turned to offer her his hand.

Cassandra placed hers in his, allowing him to help her to the ground. Even after that, he still remained at her side as they made their way toward the entrance.

"Welcome to my home," he told her. "Soon it will be yours as well."

If Draven had his way, they would grow old here together.

A footman pushed open the large double doors, revealing more of the grand interior.

They had barely taken more than a few steps inside when they were ambushed by Draven’s sister.

There was no mistaking her identity. The resemblance between the siblings was unmistakable: the same complexion, the same black hair, enviable heights. Only their eyes differed. Draven’s were a deep, dark blue, while Eugenia’s were a warm light brown.

Eugenia’s smile was impossibly bright as she dipped into a curtsey.

Indeed, smiling hardly seemed sufficient to describe the expression on her face. Her entire countenance seemed illuminated by delight, and the instant her eyes settled on Cassandra.

Cassandra instinctively braced herself.

"You must be Miss Ashford. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My brother has told me so much about you."

The pointed look she directed at Draven suggested he had done nothing of the sort.

Cassandra returned her smile, curtseying. "Thank you. The pleasure is all mine."

Genie closed the distance between them and pulled her into a friendly hug like they had known each other forever.

Cassandra barely had time to react before she was enveloped into the warm embrace.

When Genie finally pulled away, she took Cassandra by both arms and looked her over with open admiration.

"Good heavens, you are beautiful." Genie turned toward her brother, looking astonished by her findings. "She is very beautiful. What could she possibly see in someone like you?"

Cassandra’s cheeks heated from both the unexpected compliment and the attention on her.

Draven gave his sister a long, unimpressed look before leaning slightly toward Cassandra. "This is my sister, Genie. She keeps me humble."

"I do my best," Genie said cheerfully.

Cassandra watched another figure drift closer.

Her attention shifted, and she found herself looking at an older woman who had been watching them from nearby.

Cassandra had already gotten over the resemblance between Draven and Genie, but now she saw it was nothing compared to the likeness between Draven and his mother. They shared the same hair and eyes, and even the subtle dips and contours of their faces seemed to have been drawn from the same mould.

Cassandra understood immediately where Draven had inherited much of his appearance.

She was the first to notice the woman and, not wishing to appear rude, curtsied at once. "Your Grace."

That was enough to draw the siblings’ attention to their mother’s presence.

"Lady Cassandra, is it?" Octavia asked, her voice smooth and mellow, like aged whiskey.

"Yes, Your Grace."

She smiled faintly. "Welcome. We are pleased to finally meet you. Afternoon tea will be served shortly. Do join us."

"I would love to."

Octavia gave a small nod before turning on her heel and walking away.

Cassandra felt Draven’s hand slip into hers, his fingers closing gently around her own. He drew her along beside him as they followed Octavia toward the drawing room.

Genie’s gaze dropped to their joined hands. She lingered on them for a moment, her lips pursing thoughtfully before she looked away.

Once they entered the drawing room, Octavia gestured for them to take their seats. Draven settled beside Cassandra, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, while Genie took the seat beside her mother. The two women exchanged a knowing glance that Cassandra couldn’t quite interpret.

A few minutes later, a maid entered carrying the tea service. She poured each of them a cup before leaving quietly, and for the first few minutes, the conversation remained pleasantly comfortable.

Octavia asked about Cassandra’s trip there and how she had been spending her time at the palace, having already heard from Draven that Cassandra was temporarily residing there.

Cassandra answered each question as best she could, and, just as Draven had predicted, Octavia seemed pleased by her straightforward manner.

Eventually, as was inevitable, the conversation turned toward the topic of their incoming wedding.

"I hope I am not being presumptuous," Octavia said, "but I imagine there are arrangements your family will wish to discuss with us. Has Draven spoken with your father about the marriage?"

Draven immediately straightened, and his shoulder brushed against Cassandra’s in the process.

Cassandra’s hand settled lightly over his arm, stopping him before he could respond. The touch was gentle, almost casual, but its meaning was obvious.

She wanted to answer the question herself. The matter concerned her family, and she didn’t want Draven to speak on her behalf.