Chapter 146

The words were delivered so lightly that the meaning of her statement took a moment to register. Once it did, Cassandra gave Eliza a sidelong glance.

There was no obvious hint of malice on the woman’s face. No knowing smile, nothing that could reasonably indicate that she meant it as an insult. It could have been nothing more than an innocent statement.

It could also have been a carefully polished little barb, the sort that was impossible to challenge without making Cassandra appear too sensitive.

The cruelest remarks were often disguised as accidents and harmless observations.

Cassandra decided she would not give the comment more importance than it deserved.

"It certainly feels different," she said instead. "My first betrothed and His Grace could not be more different. For that reason, among many others, I find myself looking forward to becoming his wife."

Eliza smiled again, only this time Cassandra could no longer tell if it was truly genuine as she once thought.

Neither woman noticed the figure approaching from the opposite end of the hall until he drew close enough for Cassandra to recognize him.

Draven was walking toward them with the measured stride she had come to recognize, his dark coat immaculate, every detail of his appearance as neat as ever. His attention was trained on them as he approached.

– – –

Fresh from the day’s council meeting, Draven was tired. Irritated would have been the more apt description.

The meeting was an exercise in patience from beginning to end. A proposed bill concerning trade regulations consumed most of the morning, and not because the matter itself was especially complicated. Every man in the room seemed determined to prove that his interpretation was superior to everyone else’s, turning what should have been a straightforward discussion into an endless exchange of objections and counterarguments.

Draven could tolerate disagreement. He could not tolerate men who pretended to be wise while continuing their petty squabbles and wasting everyone’s time by being indecisive.

Three times the discussion nearly reached a conclusion, and three times someone dragged it backward. The traditionalists opposed changes they had barely bothered to understand. Others supported the bill in principle while objecting to nearly every provision contained within it.

Fairmont, meanwhile, spent most of the debate listening with the same smug expression that Draven had come to despise.

The Lord Chancellor’s insistence upon neutrality irritated him more than the arguments themselves.

As Lord Chancellor, Thomas Fairmont was not required to be politically neutral. His position did not demand the detachment of a judge. He was a statesman with influence, power, and responsibility, yet he seemed determined to remain just outside every disagreement, refusing to choose a side until he could determine which position would serve him best.

A man as self-serving as Fairmont had proven himself to be was often lacking in principle and morally deficient.

As Draven left the meeting, the man in question was not far behind.

"You cannot be too displeased by today’s outcome," Fairmont said to him. "Some things are just not meant to be."

"There were three occasions today when you could have spoken up," Draven shot back. "Three occasions when your position could have settled the matter, and each time you chose to sit there and feign ignorance. You call yourself neutral, but people like you are what is wrong with this country."

Fairmont regarded him calmly. "I am not like you."

"No. You are not."

Eyes narrowing, Fairmont said, "You see a dispute and rush toward it as though every disagreement were a battle that demanded your sword."

"And you see a battle and wait to discover which side is winning," Draven retorted. "Spineless, but what can one expect from someone like you?"

The remark touched a sore spot, and Fairmont bristled at the insult to his pride. "I prefer to consider my position before I announce it."

Draven scoffed. "The coward’s way."

Fairmont’s mouth curved up slightly. "Perhaps. But I always win, don’t I?"

That answer followed Draven all the way into the corridor, irritating him long after the argument was over. He was still thinking about it when he glimpsed Cassandra in the distance.

Now that he had her in his line of sight, the irritation disappeared so quickly that he almost wondered whether it had ever existed. His attention settled on her, and everything else became considerably less important.

He altered his course without thinking and headed straight toward her like a fish caught on a hook.

"Lady Cassandra."

It was the second time in an hour that someone had called out to her, yet this time her reaction was entirely different. When Eliza called her name earlier, Cassandra felt none of this sudden awareness, none of the strange way her nerves seemed to light up at the sound of his voice.

Something warm and languid spread through her when she saw him, an unwelcome response that conflicted entirely with her determination to resist the attraction she was beginning to feel towards him.

Eliza offered him a polite curtsy.

"Your Grace," she greeted him.

Draven inclined his head. "Lady Marwood."

His attention returned to Cassandra almost immediately.

"How are you?" he asked, barely making any effort to hide how pleased he was to see her.

"Very well, thank you," Cassandra said. "How was your morning?"

"Long," he answered truthfully. It felt even longer for him because she chose to absent herself from today’s meeting.

Cassandra smiled. "That sounds promising."

"It was not, I assure you. The council meeting accomplished very little. I spent several hours surrounded by men with more pride than sense. I would give you a summary of what transpired, but I wouldn’t want to bore you to death."

Cassandra laughed, and the sound caught him unexpectedly.

He liked the sound of her laugh. There was something unguarded about it, something that made him want to listen to it over and over again. He did not think he could ever grow tired of hearing such a sound.

For a fleeting moment, he found himself wishing he could bottle it up and carry it with him whenever she was not beside him.

"I should leave you both. I have another matter to attend to," Eliza excused herself, understanding that her presence was no longer required.

Cassandra thanked her for the company, and Eliza offered another polite farewell before continuing down the corridor.

Draven scarcely watched her leave. His focus remained entirely on his fiancée.

"Do you have any appointments this afternoon?"

Cassandra considered the question.

"Not really," she said.

The answer pleased him. He had been thinking about this afternoon since breakfast, considering how he might spend it with her.

They had not spent an entire day together since they got engaged. There had been the visit to his family, but that hardly counted. His mother claimed Cassandra’s attention, Eugenia wanted her company, and the rest of them found endless reasons to draw her into conversation.

Draven enjoyed seeing Cassandra welcomed by his family. He enjoyed having to share her even less.

Today, he intended to remedy that.

But his plans came to a screeching halt when Cassandra added, "But there is something."

His eagerness wavered.

"What is it?" he asked, wanting to know what he was competing with for Cassandra’s time.

"I promised Prince Adrian I would meet him."

"For what purpose?"

"He is teaching me to shoot."

Draven furrowed his brows. That was hardly the answer he expected. His look of confusion was fleeting, however, replaced by something more thoughtful as he considered the unexpected arrangement.

"Would you mind if I joined you two?"