Chapter 145: Home

Chapter 145: Chapter 145: Home

The capital appeared shortly before sunset.

Cassian had never been so pleased to see it.

The realization was mildly embarrassing.

He ignored it.

The carriage continued forward.

Too slowly.

The road stretched ahead.

Equally too slowly.

Everything, Cassian decided, was moving far too slowly.

The conclusion lacked fairness.

It remained true.

Marian was in the capital.

The thought had accompanied him for most of the journey south.

Now it refused to leave.

Closer.

The realization repeated itself with remarkable persistence.

Closer than yesterday.

Closer than last week.

Closer than she had been in five months.

The thought should have improved his patience.

Instead it appeared to have destroyed it entirely.

Cassian stared out the carriage window.

Then checked the time.

Then looked outside again.

The behavior was not dignified.

Fortunately, there were no witnesses willing to comment.

Or at least none brave enough.

The truth was simple.

He wanted to see her.

The realization carried no surprise.

He had wanted to see her yesterday.

And the day before that.

And the day before that.

Five months had done remarkably little to diminish the problem.

If anything, the situation had worsened.

The letters helped.

Of course they helped.

He would have gone mad without them.

Yet every letter suffered from the same flaw.

The page ended.

The conversation ended.

And Marian remained hundreds of miles away.

Cassian was thoroughly tired of hundreds of miles.

The carriage rolled through the gates of Ashford House.

Home.

The realization lasted approximately three seconds.

Then another thought replaced it.

Marian.

Cassian sighed.

The situation was becoming ridiculous.

The carriage had not fully stopped before he stepped down.

His valet pretended not to notice.

Years of service had apparently taught the man remarkable restraint.

"Where is Lady Marian this evening?"

The question escaped immediately.

His valet did not blink.

"Lord Evermont’s reception, Your Grace."

Cassian stopped.

"A reception?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Interesting.

Very interesting.

A moment later, he asked the only reasonable question.

"Do we have an invitation?"

A brief pause.

Then:

"Yes, Your Grace."

The answer arrived suspiciously quickly.

Cassian narrowed his eyes.

His valet remained perfectly expressionless.

The man was becoming entirely too comfortable.

Several minutes later, Cassian discovered that apparently five months apart had done nothing for his dignity.

He changed coats.

Changed them again.

Then changed back to the first one.

The realization was deeply irritating.

His valet wisely remained silent.

Cassian suspected the man wished to survive the evening.

His gaze drifted toward his desk.

Letters rested neatly in one corner.

Marian’s letters.

His steps slowed.

Then stopped.

The sight pulled a smile from him before he could stop it.

Five months.

An entire relationship conducted through paper.

Questions.

Stories.

Conversations.

Complaints.

Jokes.

Affection hidden between carefully chosen words.

He had read every letter more times than he would ever admit.

One in particular had traveled nearly the entire journey home tucked inside his coat.

A habit he had absolutely no intention of defending.

His fingers brushed the top page.

Only briefly.

Because for the first time in months, he no longer needed letters.

Marian was here.

The thought refused to settle.

Here.

Not hundreds of miles away.

Not waiting at the end of another month.

Not trapped behind ink and paper.

Close.

The realization made patience extraordinarily difficult.

The thought of Adrian arrived shortly afterward.

Uninvited.

Cassian sighed.

That conversation had been inevitable from the beginning.

Unfortunately, inevitability did not make it pleasant.

Adrian was his cousin.

Had always been his cousin.

Nothing about that had changed.

Nor would it.

Cassian understood his anger.

He probably always would.

The understanding changed nothing.

Some choices could not be undone.

And if given the opportunity to choose again—

Cassian already knew what he would do.

The realization carried guilt.

Regret did not accompany it.

An hour later, he entered Lord Evermont’s ballroom.

The announcement followed.

Cassian barely heard it.

Because he was already searching.

The realization should have embarrassed him.

It did not.

His gaze moved through the crowd.

Past ministers.

Past noblemen.

Past half the Empire.

Then stopped.

Marian.

For one absurd moment, every coherent thought vanished.

Not gradually.

Immediately.

There she was.

After five months.

After dozens of letters.

After countless nights spent wishing the distance between them were smaller.

There she was.

The excitement hit first.

Sharp.

Immediate.

Powerful enough that for one ridiculous moment Cassian nearly forgot where he was.

Then the rest followed.

The blue silk.

The sapphire at her throat.

The careful arrangement of her hair.

The elegance.

The beauty.

Details he noticed instantly.

Far too instantly.

The realization was mildly humiliating.

Particularly because he noticed every single one of them.

She was beautiful.

Ridiculously beautiful.

The sort of beautiful that made five months feel very long indeed.

Memory had failed him completely.

No recollection had prepared him for reality.

For one dangerous moment, Cassian wanted nothing more than to cross the ballroom.

Immediately.

To close the distance.

To reach her.

The impulse arrived with startling force.

Months of separation seemed to collapse into a single unbearable realization.

She was right there.

Close enough to see.

Close enough to hear.

And yet still impossibly far away.

The desire to bridge that distance was almost overwhelming.

To take her hand.

To put his arms around her.

To hold her.

To kiss her.

The thoughts arrived naturally.

Effortlessly.

As though five months apart had only made them stronger.

The dangerous part was how reasonable they seemed.

Cassian nearly moved.

Only years of discipline prevented the mistake.

The realization was deeply inconvenient.

Because the desire remained.

Then Marian looked up.

As though sensing him.

Their eyes met.

Everything stopped.

For one brief moment neither moved.

Then Marian smiled.

Not politely.

Not formally.

Not for society.

She smiled at him.

The reaction was immediate.

Hopeless.

Entirely beyond his control.

Cassian felt his own lips curve upward.

Because there was no mistaking it.

She was happy.

Happy to see him.

And suddenly every mile.

Every letter.

Every lonely week apart.

Every step that had carried him south—

felt worthwhile.

There was only Marian.

Smiling at him from across the ballroom.

And Cassian found himself thinking, with remarkable certainty, that he would have crossed half the Empire for that smile.

Again.

And again.

And again.