Chapter 163

They came forward to assist her with her gown, carefully unfastening the intricate buttons and loosening the fabric that had kept her dressed in splendour for most of the day. Cassandra settled before the vanity, watching their reflections in the mirror with a fond smile.

"I’m so glad you both chose to stay with me," she said. "I should find it much easier to settle here with you two."

"It was a simple decision, your Grace. We enjoyed being your lady’s maids, we would follow you anywhere." Rachel replied, as delightful as ever.

"It is our pleasure to serve you, Your Grace. Especially now that you are a duchess." Nora chimed in.

Rachel echoed her agreement while beginning to undo the fastenings of Cassandra’s gown.

Nora removed the diamond tiara first, lifting it carefully from Cassandra’s head and setting it on the dressing table as Cassandra worked on removing her earrings and necklace.

Once the jewellery had been removed Nora began taking out the pins from her coiffure.

Her blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders, then down her back in soft waves past her mid-back. Cassandra ran her fingers through it as the last pins were collected, relieved to be free of the elaborate arrangement that had been necessary for the ceremony.

Next, she washed and changed into a comfortable dressing gown, then settled into her chair while the maids put away her wedding attire.

A knock sounded at the sitting room door. Moments later, two servants entered with a tray of food, carrying enough for a small private feast.

They arranged the dishes on the round table in the bedroom, where two chairs faced one another, and placed a fresh decanter of wine beside the plates.

Cassandra looked at the arrangement and understood immediately that Octavia had arranged the meal for her and Draven. There was no doubt about her mother-in-law’s intentions. The food was too much for just one person.

It was a thoughtful gesture. Still, she could not help wondering how the evening would unfold. If she was to share a meal with Draven in private, she hoped it would not turn into an awkward affair, fraught with a tension neither of them knew how to dispel.

Despite everything that had happened between them, she still enjoyed his company immensely. The last thing she wanted was for that to change.

Once their tasks for the evening were complete, Rachel was the first to take her leave, intending to return to her room and finish unpacking the last of her belongings. Nora, meanwhile, remained behind in case Cassandra required any further assistance.

She was in the sitting room when she heard the door leading to the duke’s chambers creak open.

Draven stepped inside, dressed in more relaxed evening attire.

"Your Grace," Nora greeted him with a curtsy.

"Is my wife in her room?" he asked, briefly surveying the sitting room for any sign of Cassandra.

"Yes, Your Grace. Her Grace is waiting for you to join her for supper."

"Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your evening," he said, dismissing her.

Draven waited until Nora had left and the door had closed behind her before making his way to Cassandra’s bedchamber. He knocked twice, and her voice soon came from within.

"Come in."

He opened the door to find her seated at the vanity, her jewellery removed and her blonde hair falling in loose waves down her back. Without her usual adornments or the stylish coiffure she wore during the day, she looked more relaxed than he had ever seen her.

And somehow, that only made matters worse for him.

She made him mad with want and he doubted she even realized it.

Cassandra turned on the vanity stool to face him, her gaze briefly taking in his less formal attire.

"Supper is ready," she said, rising from her seat.

She gestured towards the table, which had been laid with an assortment of dishes, before moving to pull out a chair for herself. Draven followed her lead, drawing out his own chair and settling into the seat opposite her.

They began with the appetizers, exchanging polite conversation as they ate. Their discussion wandered from the day’s trivial occurrences to the little things they had noticed about the guests, neither willing to venture into more dangerous territory.

The almost-kiss remained unspoken between them, as did Eugenia’s untimely interruption and Draven’s displeasure at finding Cassandra in conversation with Simon.

When they moved to the main course, she welcomed the mild interruption from her churning thoughts. Sadly it was fleeting.

She glanced at Draven across the table, searching for a tactful way to broach the subject.

"Something on your mind, my dear?" he asked.

Draven had always been far more perceptive than she sometimes gave him credit for.

"Yes," she admitted softly.

She could hardly imagine a better opportunity to ask him, and if she postponed it now, she might find herself making excuses to avoid the subject altogether.

"Are you going to tell me why you dislike your cousin so much?"

Draven paused, then set down his cutlery and dabbed his mouth with his napkin. He had known it was only a matter of time before Cassandra asked about Simon, so the question came as no surprise.

"How much of my conversation with Mother did you hear?"

"Enough to know that you were upset by Simon’s presence."

He leaned back in his chair and released a weary sigh, as though even the prospect of discussing his cousin was enough to sour his appetite.

"Simon has always been difficult. Even when we were boys, he seemed determined to cause trouble wherever he went. He picked fights for no reason, was frequently at odds with me, and occasionally spoke ill of the family. Yet he never once thought it necessary to apologise for any of it."

Decades old resentment was woven into each word, showing just how much it still affected him.

Cassandra set down her cutlery, her curiosity growing. She had expected there to be some tense history between them, but Draven’s account suggested something far more deeply rooted than ordinary familial disagreements.

"If he has caused so much trouble, why does your mother keep giving him chances?" she asked.

She had abandoned her meal altogether, her attention fixed entirely on Draven as she waited for his answer.

"She believes everyone deserves another opportunity, no matter how many they have wasted." Draven’s tone softened slightly when he spoke of Octavia. "She has a big heart and she cannot bear to turn away from someone who is struggling. I admire that quality in her, but I wish she understood that not everyone deserves endless forgiveness. Simon has been given more chances than I can count, and he has done very little with them."

"Is that why you no longer wish to support him?"

"Among other things. I have no desire to continue funding his extravagant lifestyle while he refuses to take responsibility for himself. He expects others to rescue him whenever he gets into trouble, and Mother encourages that expectation by stepping in every time he falters." He rested one hand on the table and with the other, he silently tapped his fingers on his thigh. "I fear he is taking advantage of her kindness."

Cassandra considered his words. It was clear that Draven’s anger was not confined to personal dislike; he was tired of watching his family bear the consequences of Simon’s choices.

"I can understand why that would frustrate you," she said. "And from how you behaved earlier, it’s clear that you fiercely distrust him. I will stay away from him if that will put you at ease."

"I appreciate it, but I would not presume to tell you who you ought to interact with."

"You are not presuming anything," Cassandra assured him. "I am the one making this choice. You said it yourself that Simon is trouble, and I am simply heeding a friend’s warning."

A faint smile curved Draven’s lips, easing the severity of his expression like sunlight breaking through a sky heavy with storm clouds.

"A friend," he hummed, echoing her words.

"My dearest friend."

Draven pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "As much as I would like to spend more time with you, I have an early start tomorrow."

He made no move towards the door just yet. Instead, his gaze travelled over her face, lingering as though he were reluctant to bring the evening to an end. For a moment, Cassandra wondered whether he intended to say something else, but he stepped closer before she could ask.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Her breath caught at the unexpected tenderness of the gesture.

Draven drew away from her. If he couldn’t kiss her the way he wanted, he would make do with this.

"Have a good night, wife."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Cassandra staring at his retreating figure, her fingertips rising almost unconsciously to the cheek he had just kissed.