Chapter 154

A strange sensation travelled down her spine, and she immediately blamed it on the wine.

It was the wine.

It certainly had nothing to do with Draven.

She was becoming ridiculous.

Perhaps that was what happened when one drank three glasses too quickly.

"You never told me," he said, "why you and John ended your engagement."

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one with questions. Draven had some of his own, and it would hardly be fair to refuse him an answer after he had given hers without making a fuse.

"I’ve always wondered about it. You seemed happy."

It was a jab to her heart even though he didn’t intend it to be.

"The truth is, we were happy. I loved him very much. I think that was part of the problem. I loved him enough that I couldn’t see what was in front of me. I saw the man he showed me, and I believed him to be exactly what I thought he was." She paused, searching for the right words. "Then I saw something different. He wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with. Once I understood that, I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life pretending otherwise."

Draven’s voice was quiet. "Then I’m glad you followed your instincts. Otherwise, how would I have become your contract husband?"

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it, gripping her sides.

"Oh, don’t make me laugh."

Draven frowned slightly. "What?"

"My corset."

He looked puzzled.

"My ladies’ maid laced it so tightly tonight that I am surprised I am still breathing. I think they heard I was attending the ball with you and decided my breasts ought to be pushed to the high heavens. They nearly killed me."

Unbidden, his gaze dropped to the neckline of her dress, drawn to the soft, rounded curve of her breast peeking above the fabric.

He realized what he was doing and knew he ought to look away.

He did not. Not immediately.

Instead, he slowly dragged his gaze back to her face, far more reluctantly.

"I’m beginning to think," Cassandra continued, completely oblivious to the internal struggle she had caused him, "that death by corset strangulation would be a very pitiful way to go."

"I imagine it would," he said gruffly, swallowing past the lump forming in his throat.

As he was beginning to discover, an inebriated Cassandra was not merely more talkative and confrontational. She was also brazen. She seemed utterly unaware of the destruction she caused, heedlessly playing with his sanity as though she had no idea what she was doing to him.

"Honestly, I may suffocate before the evening is over," she went on, sounding rather dramatic. "Imagine having ’death by corset strangulation’ entered into the record. What a humiliating end. People would tell the story for generations. Do not lace your corset too tightly, girls, lest you meet the tragic fate of Lady Cassandra."

The corner of Draven’s mouth twitched.

She leaned back against the stone bench, relieved to take some of the pressure from her ribs.

"Men have no idea what women endure for fashion," she said. "You put on a coat, a waistcoat, trousers, boots, and you are finished. You all look identical anyway."

"Identical?"

"Different fabrics. Different cravats. But fundamentally the same."

"I’ll be sure to inform every gentleman I encounter at our next ball."

"You should," she said, trying to sound serious and failing miserably. "Although I once knew a man who had the most extraordinary collection of waistcoats. Every colour imaginable. And he was also very handsome. A true catch."

There she went again, casually tormenting his sanity.

The air seemed to grow several degrees colder.

Cassandra continued without noticing. "He was probably one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen."

It was only when she noticed his complete lack of response that she finally looked at him.

Draven had gone unnaturally still, a scowl settling over his features—one far harsher than any she had ever seen on his face.

"What?"

"You called another man handsome."

Cassandra stared at him, utterly perplexed.

"Yes, and?"

Try as she might, she could not understand what, exactly, had caused him to have such a reaction.

"Why would you call him handsome?" Draven asked and he sounded almost petulant. He never acted like this, only she was capable to make him like this.

She blinked. "Because he is."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "You have never called me handsome."

Her confusion morphed to incredulity and she looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"Why should I?"

"Why shouldn’t you?" He shot back, like she was the one being unreasonable.

"You are a duke."

"That has nothing to do with anything."

"Look at yourself," she said, gesturing at first his face then at the rest of his body. "You are you, Draven Montague. Do you know how many women long for a moment of your attention? You probably receive several compliments every day. Don’t be greedy."

He huffed, affronted. "I couldn’t care less about any of that. I care what you think."

Cassandra gaped at him, genuinely bewildered by the intensity of the complaint.

"Surely that can’t be the reason you are upset. Be humble. You don’t need me to tell you that you’re handsome."

"Yes," he said, with an unreasonable amount of seriousness, "I do."

He looked irritated.

Not angry with her. She could tell that much. His displeasure seemed directed at the fact that another man had caught her attention at all, which was so absurd that she almost laughed.

Instead, she stared straight ahead at the pond.

The lilies floated serenely upon the water, entirely indifferent to the duke’s wounded pride.

Cassandra decided the pond was the saner company. She rose from the bench.

Draven watched her go. "What are you doing?"

"Away from your vanity," Cassandra replied, then chuckled to show she was merely teasing.

She walked toward the water and noticed several small stones scattered along the edge of the path. Bending down as far as her corset would allow, she picked one up.

She drew her arm back and tossed it, aiming to make the stone skip across the surface.

Instead, it dropped straight into the pond with a dull plop.

Cassandra frowned.

She bent to pick up another stone and tried again.