Chapter 142: Answers

Chapter 142: Chapter 142: Answers

Marian was becoming concerned.

Not about the Season.

Not about the rumors.

Not even about the increasingly obvious fact that half the capital seemed determined to discuss Cassian whenever she entered a room.

No.

Her concern was significantly more serious.

"How much?"

The maid froze.

Marian immediately narrowed her eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"My lady."

The maid sounded emotional.

"You have never asked that question before."

Marian felt personally attacked.

She looked down at the sketches spread across the table.

The newest designs from her modiste.

Beautiful.

Elegant.

Entirely unnecessary.

Which was unfortunate because Marian wanted at least three of them.

Possibly four.

The realization brought with it another, far less pleasant realization.

Money.

Specifically, the rather alarming amount of money recently exchanged between Ashford and Valmort.

Marian groaned.

The maid looked alarmed.

"My lady?"

"I am being responsible."

The words felt strange in her mouth.

The maid looked even more alarmed.

"My lady."

"Yes?"

"Should I summon a physician?"

Marian stared at her.

The maid stared back.

Neither laughed.

Eventually Marian sighed.

Perhaps she deserved that.

A little.

Only a little.

The problem was not that Valmort lacked money.

Valmort remained extraordinarily wealthy.

The problem was that Marian knew exactly where that money had come from.

Or rather—

who.

And every time she remembered, she found herself thinking that perhaps ordering six entirely new gowns in a single month might be excessive.

A shocking thought.

One she blamed entirely on Cassian.

Naturally.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

One of the servants entered.

Carrying a familiar tray.

Marian froze.

Then immediately stood.

The servant barely had time to place the tray upon the table before Marian reached it.

The maid watched.

Silently.

Judgmentally.

Marian ignored her.

The handwriting alone was enough to make her smile.

Cassian.

At last.

It had been nearly three weeks.

Three weeks of waiting.

Three weeks of wondering.

Three weeks of enduring society while pretending she was not checking for correspondence every morning.

The final part had been particularly difficult.

Marian broke the seal.

Then sat down.

Then immediately forgot about the dresses.

The room.

The Season.

Everything.

Because Cassian had written a very long letter.

And Marian loved long letters.

Especially when they came from him.

The first pages were familiar.

Updates from Ashford.

Reports regarding the duchy.

Several complaints about paperwork.

One complaint regarding paperwork that appeared to continue for nearly half a page.

Marian laughed.

The next section made her laugh even harder.

Apparently the capital had not been the only place discussing Duke Ashford.

Word of his supposed romantic history had reached Ashford as well.

Which meant Cassian had somehow become aware of the rumors.

His response was characteristically unimpressed.

Apparently I must apologize.

I was unaware so many people found my romantic history interesting.

This is unfortunate.

Particularly because there is very little of it.

Marian smiled.

Then continued reading.

You asked whether there was anyone before you.

The answer is disappointingly simple.

No.

My brother died.

Then my father followed him two years later.

By that point I had become heir.

Shortly afterward I became Duke.

The duchy required rebuilding.

Ashford required attention.

My people required attention.

Every time someone suggested I concern myself with courtship, I generally found something more urgent to do instead.

You may now inform your friends that Duke Ashford possesses an extraordinarily exciting history.

Marian laughed again.

The image was absurdly easy to imagine.

A noblewoman attempting to flirt.

Cassian escaping behind paperwork.

Entirely believable.

Then she reached the section she had truly been waiting for.

The section that made her heart begin beating faster.

The section she immediately read twice.

As for why I chose you—

That answer is somewhat easier.

You were remarkably persistent.

Most people attempt to court a duke.

You attempted to use me to make another man jealous.

I suspect this should have discouraged me.

Instead, it had the opposite effect.

Marian covered her face.

Heat immediately rushed into her cheeks.

She could practically hear his voice.

Which made everything worse.

And better.

Simultaneously.

She lowered her hands.

And continued reading.

Unfortunately for me, you proved surprisingly difficult to forget.

The truth is that by the time I realized I wanted to choose someone, the choice had already been made.

It was you.

When exactly that happened remains unclear.

I suspect you are responsible.

If you wish to apologize, I am willing to consider it.

Marian stared.

Then reread the paragraph.

Then reread it again.

The smile that appeared felt impossible to stop.

The choice had already been made.

It was you.

The words settled somewhere warm inside her chest.

For several moments she simply sat there.

Looking at the letter.

Smiling like an idiot.

A fact her maid helpfully pointed out.

"My lady."

Marian looked up.

"You are smiling."

"I know."

"You have been smiling at that page for several minutes."

Marian immediately looked back down.

The maid sighed.

The sigh of a woman who had given up entirely.

Marian considered this a reasonable reaction.

Then she noticed there was still more.

A postscript.

Immediately she continued reading.

One final matter.

I expect to return to the capital sooner than anticipated.

Marian sat up.

Her eyes widened.

The next lines blurred slightly as she read them too quickly.

I have completed more of my work than expected.

Provided nothing catches fire between now and my departure, I should arrive considerably earlier than planned.

You may consider this advance warning.

Marian’s heartbeat quickened.

Earlier?

How much earlier?

She continued reading.

I have also been informed that the Season contains an alarming number of unmarried noblemen.

I find this deeply concerning.

As a responsible duke, I feel obligated to investigate the matter personally.

Marian laughed.

Actually laughed.

The sound escaped before she could stop it.

Her maid looked startled.

Then suspicious.

Then resigned.

Again.

The final line sat alone.

Short.

Simple.

Entirely unfair.

I look forward to seeing you.

Marian read it once.

Then again.

Then a third time.

Her smile softened.

Because suddenly the distance between Ashford and the capital no longer felt quite so large.

He was coming back.

Soon.

The realization filled her with a happiness so bright it felt difficult to contain.

The dresses were forgotten.

The rumors were forgotten.

The Season itself was forgotten.

There was only one thought remaining.

Cassian was coming home.

And for perhaps the first time since he had left—

the wait finally felt bearable.