Chapter 118

Draven glanced down at the hand she still had resting on his arm. Before Cassandra could pull it away, he covered her fingers with his own.

Their eyes met and held. For that brief moment, neither of them needed to say anything. A conversation happened between them without needing words.

Then Draven gave her a subtle nod before releasing her hand. Cassandra withdrew hers a moment later, their brief contact ending almost as quickly as it had begun.

They still had an audience.

Cassandra turned her attention back to Octavia, who had been watching them with keen interest. Beside her, Eugenia looked utterly delighted.

"My family and I are not particularly on good terms at present," she said carefully, conscious of how easily her words could be misconstrued. It was like walking a tightrope. Short of blatantly speaking ill of her family, which was considered improper for a lady, how was she supposed to explain that they were horrible people with questionable morals who had thought nothing of selling their own daughter off, without ruining the pleasant atmosphere of the meeting?

"There have been several misunderstandings between us, and I have been living at the palace since things became difficult at home. Her Majesty was kind enough to allow me to remain there." Was what Cassandra eventually settled on.

She could feel Draven’s gaze on her, but she pretended not to notice.

"I see," Octavia said.

Of all the things Draven could have told Cassandra about his family, he had never mentioned how difficult Octavia could be to read. Perhaps it had never occurred to him because she was his mother and he had spent his entire life knowing her. Cassandra, however, had no such advantage.

Fortunately, Octavia did not press her for details or ask what had caused the disagreement with her family.

She seemed to understand that whatever could drive an only daughter away from her family was unlikely to have been a trivial dispute. Rather than pry, she simply accepted Cassandra’s explanation and allowed the matter to rest.

"But you have no reason to worry," Cassandra reassured her. "His Grace has spoken with the Queen, however. Her Majesty wholeheartedly supports our marriage, and I value her blessing greatly. She has been like a mother to me."

Octavia nodded, visibly pleased by the answer.

"Then I am glad," she said, lifting her cup for another sip. "Have you considered a venue yet? These things need to be settled early, or there are bound to be problems further down the road."

"There is one place I have in mind," Cassandra said when the subject of the ceremony arose.

"Well, then, I’m curious to hear it." Genie leaned forward with interest.

"St. Augustine’s Cathedral. I can’t imagine a better place to get married."

It was the only choice that had ever made sense to Cassandra, and she had never found a decision easier to make.

St. Augustine’s was one of the oldest cathedrals in Arden. Cassandra first read about it in one of her favourite books when she was younger, and the description had left her fascinated. She visited it several times since, but the cathedral had always remained more than just a beautiful building to her. She had always imagined that, if she ever married, she would be married there.

It was another piece of herself she had once eagerly shared with John, back when she had still been under the delusion that they loved each other.

While they planned their wedding in her previous life, Cassandra told him everything about her fascination with the cathedral. She had described its grandeur and the way she had always imagined walking through its doors on her wedding day. John did not share her enthusiasm.

In the end, his preference had won over hers. His choices were always deemed more practical, more rational, and therefore took precedence over hers.

It had not helped that his mother had supported him, while Cassandra’s own family accepted his decision as though her wishes had never been worth considering in the first place.

Since then, they had taken every opportunity to dismiss her opinions, and she had been foolish enough to let them. They had done it again and again until she stopped expecting anyone to ask what she wanted in the first place.

So after finally voicing her choice, some small, instinctive part of her waited for the same dismissal. Only this time would be different. This time, she was going to fight for what she wanted.

Fake marriage or not, they were going to be married in that blasted cathedral, damn it.

Her past experiences had her bracing herself for an argument, but Draven only smiled.

"St. Augustine’s is beautiful. I have always liked it. We can have the wedding there. I think it would be a wonderful choice."

Cassandra hadn’t expected that reaction. Judging by the way she was staring at him, one might have thought he had suddenly sprouted a second head.

She had been so prepared for him to argue that she hardly knew what to make of his easy agreement. He didn’t even try to replace her preference with his own, as John had been so fond of doing. He had not treated her wish as an inconvenience that needed to be negotiated away.

It was such a small thing, and Draven would never know how much it meant to her.

What Cassandra did not know was that Draven would not have cared if she had said she wanted to be married at a roadside inn or a cheap tavern. He would have agreed to anything she asked, so long as the end result was the same: she became his wife.

He could not simply run away with her and make her his wife just yet, so for now, he had to make do with the smile she gave him.

And it was a truly beautiful smile.

Bright and breathtaking, it stirred something greedy inside him. He wanted to see more of them. He wanted all of them, every smile she had to give, and some part of him suspected even that would never be enough to satisfy him.

He also found himself resenting the fact that he had to share it with his mother and sister. For one absurd moment, he had half a mind to shoo both of them away.

The happiness on her face was impossible to conceal, and Draven presumed the cathedral must have held considerable significance for her if she was so pleased to have it as the venue for their wedding.

Across from them, Octavia watched them fondly.

Draven could be quite taciturn, but anyone who knew him as a child would know he wasn’t always that way. There were many things that could change a person, and for Draven, it was when he dragged his older brother’s lifeless body from the river where he drowned.

It was fascinating to see how differently he behaved around his bride-to-be. He had hardly taken his eyes off Cassandra for more than a few seconds at a time, seemingly oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Octavia had admittedly harboured a few reservations at first, but they had all vanished now that she could see the two of them together for herself.

It was exactly as Draven had told her. Cassandra Ashford was the only woman he wanted. No one else would do.

Octavia had never been particularly concerned with the title or family of the woman her son eventually married, nor had she ever expected him to choose a wife according to anyone else’s standards. All she had wanted was for him to be happy. Watching him with Cassandra now, seeing how naturally he responded to her, made Octavia’s approval come easily.

Genie had reached the same conclusion even sooner.

She had always wanted her brother to find someone who could make him happy, and Cassandra appeared to be doing precisely that.

The conversation continued from there.

They discussed Cassandra’s wedding dress, and Octavia asked whether she already had a modiste in mind. Cassandra mentioned Mrs Fletcher, a modiste whose shop was on Clarendon Street and who made several of her dresses. She spoke with such confidence about Mrs Fletcher’s work that Octavia appeared entirely satisfied.

"I am certain she will do beautifully," Octavia said.

Then the matter of the wedding date came up next.

Draven answered before Cassandra had the opportunity.

"Three weeks." His attention remained fixed entirely upon Cassandra. "Four at the latest," he amended, although there was little doubt that he would have preferred the former. "I see no reason to delay it."

Genie coughed into her hand to conceal a snicker. Draven pointedly ignored her, just as he always did whenever she tried to goad him.