Chapter 81
They had arrived at the edge of the western quarter, where the evening traffic had thinned considerably.
A few minutes later, the carriage stopped beside a coffee house, the intended destination. Neville reached for the door, then paused long enough to glance back at Draven.
"I’ll have another report for you soon."
"I expect nothing less from you."
Neville tugged the brim of his hat in farewell before stepping out of the carriage. He continued on his way without a backward glance.
Draven watched through the carriage window as the man disappeared into the sparse evening crowd. He had noticed the dark stain on Neville’s sleeve the very moment he joined them, an irregular wet patch that looked suspiciously like blood.
He chose not to question the man about it or call attention to what he had noticed, though he suspected Nicholas had seen it as well. Like him, Nicholas wisely kept his mouth shut.
There were certain questions Draven had learned not to ask.
Neville was paid well for his work, and the man had never failed to produce results. Whatever methods he employed to obtain information were his own concern. Draven cared about the information, not the means by which it got to him.
The carriage started moving again.
Nicholas waited until they had travelled a good distance away before speaking.
"I heard something rather interesting this morning."
His voice had a playful lilt to it now and Draven closed his eyes briefly, begging God or whatever listening deity, for strength
"Then I am certain you will tell me whether I wish to hear it or not."
Nicholas grinned. "That depends. You might find this particular piece of information more agreeable than you expect."
Draven turned his head and found his friend looking far too pleased with himself.
"What did you hear, Chatham?"
"That you were seen in Kingswood Park this morning, with Cassandra Ashford of all people."
"I fail to see how that concerns you." Draven drawled. It was always some type of nonsense where Nicholas was involved.
"It concerns me because you have spent most of your adult life insisting that promenading through parks and attending nearly every social event imaginable are nothing more than an intolerable waste of time."
Draven turned his attention back to the window, deliberately avoiding Nicholas’s gaze. The last thing he needed was to give his friend an opportunity to scrutinize him, and Nicholas was nothing if not relentless when he sensed something worth sticking his nose into.
As long as Draven refused to look at him, there was little chance of encouraging him to start asking questions.
How sorely mistaken he was, for Nicholas was clearly enjoying himself now.
"I believe those were your exact words," he continued. "Something about how only people with nothing useful to occupy their time could derive pleasure from walking in circles while being observed by strangers."
"I may have been mistaken."
Nicholas chuckled. "Apparently."
Draven ignored him.
It should have been easy enough to dismiss the conversation, but Nicholas had known him too long to be discouraged by his silence.
He continued needling him with the sort of cheerful persistence that would have irritated almost anyone else into submission.
"So, tell me. Was it merely a walk, or have you finally discovered an appreciation for some of the finest things in life? And with Lord Ashford’s daughter, no less." His grin never split his face in half, that was how wide it was.
Nicholas only studied him closer when Draven remained stubbornly silent.
"You know, when your solicitor told you that marriage might be the simplest solution to your succession problem, I never imagined you would look in Cassandra’s direction."
Draven stayed quiet for so long that Nicholas eventually seemed to accept that he would receive no answer.
Then, just as the carriage turned onto another street, Draven spoke.
"Yes." Draven kept his gaze on the window. "I am courting her."
The silence that followed was almost comical. Nicholas stared at him as though he had begun speaking another language.
"And," Draven added calmly, "I intend to make her my wife."
Nicholas’s mouth opened, then closed again, stunned by the confession. Though it hardly mattered when it would be public knowledge when Draven announced their engagement.
Draven could feel the weight of his friend’s stare, but he did not return it. He watched the passing lamps blur against the glass, allowing the darkness beyond the window to conceal the expression he knew Nicholas would otherwise have noticed.
He had no reason to explain himself. And yet in this situation, with a man who was his brother in all but blood, he found himself wanting to.
Perhaps it was because there were very few people with whom Draven could afford to let the walls around him come down, even for a moment. Nicholas had known him for so long.
"I have wanted her for longer than I should have," Draven said quietly.
There was something almost absurd about finally admitting it aloud. He had spent years teaching himself to keep that particular want under tight control, where they could not interfere with hisjudgment or duty.
Cassandra had been one of the few people who had always managed to slip past those defenses, even when he had believed himself entirely unaffected by her.
Now that he had allowed himself to acknowledge what he wanted, pretending otherwise seemed pointless.
"If I thought it would serve either of us, I would marry her tomorrow and take her to Norham," he continued, his voice quieter still. "I would keep her there and spare myself the inconvenience of sharing her attention with anyone else."
Nicholas’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He never thought Draven capable of having such a brutish thought.
Draven smiled despite himself. "But she does not think particularly well of me."
There it was. That was the part that had troubled him the most, more than his irrational feelings.
Cassandra’s opinion mattered to him greatly, far more than it ought to. He could command soldiers, negotiate with councilors and stand against men twice his age without the slightest uncertainty. Yet the thought that Cassandra might still regard him with suspicion and doubt did things to him.
He wanted her trust.
More than anything, he wanted her to look at him and see the man he knew himself to be, not the cold, distant duke everyone else approached with caution.
Perhaps that was why he could bring himself to wait.
Nicholas was still watching him. For once, though, there was no teasing remark waiting on his lips.