Chapter 71
The answer came so readily that she almost suspected she had misunderstood him.
"Then what is the problem?"
"The problem is that you spent too much time on the terms of the agreement and very little time considering how this match would actually work."
"What do you mean?" Cassandra frowned. She had been doing that a lot that night.
Draven lowered his head slightly. Because of the difference in their height, the movement brought his face close to hers, but he did not quite make contact. His voice dropped instead, low enough that she felt the words more than heard them.
"If this is to work, Cassandra, people must believe it."
The warmth of his breath brushed the edge of her ear, sending tiny shivers through her. When she inhaled, his scent filled her lungs. Cedar and bergamot.
"Believe what?" she managed to say, struggling to compute everything else.
"That you want me. And that I want you."
For several seconds, Cassandra could only stare at him.
She had known, logically, that appearances would matter. Having him spell it out to her was frankly mortifying.
"We only need to marry," she said, though her voice lacked some of its earlier certainty. "The rest is mostly irrelevant."
A quiet sound of disapproval escaped him.
"Cassandra, you cannot announce a marriage between two people who have never courted, never shown the slightest romantic interest in one another, and expect everyone to accept it without question."
"People marry for reasons other than affection." She argued.
"Of course they do. But those people are not us."
Especially after their previous scandal, it was easy to imagine how quickly gossip would spiral into the most outrageous conclusions. If people had been willing to assume they were lovers simply because she had ridden in his carriage, a hurried marriage would only fuel speculation that he had gotten her with child.
She had no immediate answer.
Draven moved away from her at last, giving her enough space to breathe properly again. He walked toward the door, then glanced back.
"We will have to keep everything that happened here a secret, of course. When we return to the ballroom, I will approach you and ask you to dance. I want us to look as though we are enjoying one another’s company."
"And if I refuse?" Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, arguing seemed easier than simply giving in to him. It was safer too.
His smug smirk made another appearance. "You won’t."
The confidence of the answer irritated her. It also made something warm stir beneath her ribs.
"You seem remarkably certain of yourself."
"I am certain that you understand the necessity of it." He paused. "And you are far too intelligent to allow a detail this small to jeopardize the arrangement you have spent so much effort constructing."
She had no choice but to concede the point. He was right.
The whole of Caldor had watched her life unravel once already.
"How long do you intend to court me?" Cassandra exhaled quietly, already regretting the question.
"It depends on how convincing we are. It would be more effective if you could stop glaring at me every chance you get and start using my given name."
They would have to learn how to move around one another convincingly, to make the arrangement appear effortless.
"You will also have to meet my mother eventually. Preferably before the wedding." he added.
Cassandra’s breath hitched. "Your mother?"
She had not anticipated what meeting his family might entail, a massive oversight on her part.
"I would rather you be prepared. My mother is not easily deceived. We would have to enhance our deception if we hope to fool her. Oddly, I suspect the two of you will get along."
Cassandra almost smiled at the absurdity of their situation.
Draven unlocked the door and peered into the corridor. "You should go first."
They could not leave together. Too many eyes would notice. Too many questions would follow.
She gathered herself, smoothing the front of her gown and making certain that her expression revealed nothing of the conversation that had just taken place.
At the threshold, she paused.
"Draven."
"Yes?"
She hesitated before offering him a friendly smile.
"You are quite different from what I expected tonight."
A fleeting expression crossed his eyes, gone before she could make sense of it.
"So are you."
She left before she could decide whether she liked the answer.
Draven waited behind.
He counted several minutes before stepping into the corridor, allowing enough time for Cassandra to return to the ballroom on her own without rousing any suspicion.
He had taken only a few steps when he came upon the very man he had been wishing to avoid. John Ravenshire.
He had even entertained the hope that he might make it through the entire night without being forced into an interaction with him.
Whatever warmth Cassandra had drawn from him moments ago disappeared at once. His expression hardened, the pleasure he felt in her company replaced by his familiar reserved demeanor that made him seem distant and utterly unapproachable.
Simply walking past John would have been considered discourteous, and despite his lack of desire to engage with the man, he had no intention of displaying such poor manners.
So, as he passed, he inclined his head in a stiff, perfunctory nod and continued on his way.
He had never liked John, and time had done nothing to alter that opinion. From the beginning, Draven had found the man’s arrogance particularly grating, though there was certainly no shortage of it among the nobility.
What had always unnerved him were the brief flashes of cruelty that occasionally surfaced beneath John’s polished exterior, quickly concealed before anyone else noticed.
Draven never understood what Cassandra once saw in him. At least she had eventually come to her senses.
He only managed three steps before John’s voice stopped him.
"Lady Chandler certainly knows how to throw a ball. Her efforts must be applauded if she managed to force someone like you to attend."
His words were light and playful on the surface, but anyone attentive enough would have heard the bitterness woven in carefully.