Chapter 84
The look on Octavia’s face was a mixture of shock and skepticism.
"Who is she?" She questioned, nearly bursting with curiosity. "Who is this woman you are courting?"
She paused as a thought struck her. Then her eyes widened slightly. "Do not tell me it is the same woman you were rumored to be having an affair with."
"The very same." He said and heard his mother suck in a harsh breath.
Octavia’s hand flew to her chest.
"Draven Montague!" She exclaimed, her eyes now as wide as saucers, utterly scandalized. If she was wearing pearls, she would be clutching them right now.
He remained perfectly relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, his hand resting against the edge of the settee.
"You are looking at me like I confessed to stealing from the crown." He drawled, seemingly unperturbed in the face of his mother’s horrified reaction.
It was a known fact that Octavia Montague had a thing for the dramatics. Draven loved his mother to bits, hence he tolerated it.
"I am not looking at you as though—" She stopped, apparently unable to find an adequate response. "Cassandra Ashford?"
"Yes."
"But the scandal. The rumors—"
"Was precisely that. Rumors. Nothing more." Draven said firmly, meeting her gaze calmly. "I was never having an affair with Lady Cassandra. I would hope you have not now resorted to giving credence to such insipid gossip. I thought you possessed better judgment than that."
His mother gave another indignant huff.
"What else am I expected to believe when you never tell me anything?" She shot back. "Still, you can’t marry her, not after the mess with the Ravenshires."
She rose from her chair abruptly and turned away.
Draven glanced toward Genie.
His sister was staring at him with an expression of equal parts astonishment and delight as she got to her feet and walked toward the open window.
"What are you doing?" Draven asked, brows furrowing as he watched her.
She looked outside for a moment before turning back.
"Checking to see if the sky is falling." Genie smiled broadly. She sounded mystified. "Are you truly getting married?"
"Yes."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
"Finally." She declared triumphantly, while their mother, meanwhile, appeared to be spiraling.
Draven watched his sister laugh, unable to decide whether he was more amused by her reaction or his mother’s.
Genie walked back to the settee and took his hand in hers. "Finally, you have come to your senses."
"I was unaware I had been considered senseless." He replied tartly, glaring at her.
"You have been afflicted for years actually, and I almost gave up on you entirely." She said, smirking.
Octavia was still pacing near the fireplace, one hand pressed against her chest as though she might actually swoon from the distress his news had brought her.
Draven finally walked across the room and gently took his mother’s arms, bringing her to a stop.
"Mother. I have made my decision." He said seriously. "Of all the women I have encountered, there is no one I believe better suited to me than Cassandra Ashford. I intend to make her my wife and nothing will change that. I hope you will extend to her the same courtesy you have always extended to me. She will be a member of this family, and I want you to treat her as such."
He spoke from somewhere deep in his heart, a place where even he was unfamiliar. Octavia must have sensed his unwavering conviction and recognized that he meant every word.
"Is this truly what you want?" She asked, searching his face for any signs of uncertainty and hesitation. She found none.
"Yes. I want her as my wife, and I want her as my duchess. No one else will do."
Octavia continued to study him for a long moment.
"You have that look in your eyes." She noted thoughtfully.
Draven frowned. "What look?"
"This one." She reached up and touched his cheek. "The same look your father used to have whenever he decided upon something. He always knew what he wanted. Once he fixed his mind upon something, there was very little anyone could do to persuade him against it."
Her smile became wistful. "You remind me of him more than you know."
It was a blow and he tried his best not to wince as it found its target. Him.
He doubted his mother realized what those words meant to him, or the way they still managed to affect him. He could hardly blame her. So many years had passed. By now, he ought to have moved on. Yet he hadn’t. And some part of him suspected he never would.
Octavia withdrew her hand.
"Very well," she said softly. "I would like to meet this woman who has finally managed to accomplish what many could not."
He squeezed her arm affectionately. "That can be arranged."
___
Draven retreated to the study not long afterward.
The room had changed remarkably little since his father’s death. More than a decade had passed, yet traces of him still lingered throughout the castle—in the books lining the shelves, the familiar furnishings, and most of all, the old writing desk that featured in so many of Draven’s childhood memories.
He could still remember sitting quietly beside his father there, watching him work for hours, content simply to be in his presence.
Draven had never felt any particular urge to alter it. There was something comforting about finding the room exactly as he remembered it.
He had barely settled behind the desk when the door opened.
Bran lay sprawled on the floor beside Draven’s desk, apparently content to sleep through whatever was happening around him.
At the sound of the door opening, he lifted his head briefly, ears twitching as he glanced towards the entrance. When he saw it was only Genie, he let his head drop back onto his paws and promptly resumed his pretence of indifference, ignoring everyone in the room.
"Most people knock before entering my study." He drawled.
Genie stopped and stared at him with a look of profound boredom. Then, without a word, she took two steps backward into the corridor, raised her knuckles and gave the already-open door a perfunctory knock.
She looked at him expectantly. "Better?"
He shook his head wearily. "Impeccable manners, Eugenia. You are truly the pinnacle of sophistication."
Ignoring his sarcastic remark, she stepped back inside and closed the door behind her before crossing the room and taking a seat opposite him.
"You are not going to get anything from staring at me." Draven said a few minutes later when all she did was stare at him.
"I might."
"You will not," he gave her a pointed look. "I assure you."
Genie sighed, conceding the point. "Then tell me about her."
"There is nothing to tell."
"That is a remarkably poor attempt at discouraging me."
Draven leaned back in his chair. "You will meet her soon enough."
Genie continued staring at him, searching his face for some indication of what he wasn’t saying. Unfortunately for her, Draven had spent most of his life learning how to keep his thoughts from showing.
Eventually, she surrendered.
"I hope you know what you are doing, brother."
"I do."
"I hope she makes you happy." Genie rested her hands on her lap, her earlier teasing giving way to something more sincere. "You deserve to be happy, Draven. More than you know. You deserve someone that fills the hole in your heart."
For once, he had no dry remark with which to answer her.
After a while, Genie rounded the desk and came to stand beside him. She slipped an arm around his neck, leaning down until her chin rested lightly on his shoulder.
Draven allowed himself to soak in her embrace before he lifted his hand and rested it over hers, giving her fingers a gentle pat.
They simply stayed that way, offering each other comfort.
"I haven’t proposed to her yet," Draven said at last, his voice quieter than before. "But I believe we are of similar minds about where this is headed. I have every reason to believe she will accept when I ask."
He kept the details about their arrangement and the marriage contract to himself. No matter how much he trusted his sister, he didn’t think Cassandra would appreciate it if he told another soul about what they have been up to.
"And I intend to send an invitation to Lorelei." Draven added.
Genie’s smile faded, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. "Do you think she’ll come? She hasn’t been home in years."
"I think she will." Draven’s hand tightened slightly around hers. "Whatever happened between us, family is still important to her. She wouldn’t miss something as important as my wedding if she could help it."
Genie hummed softly, her cheek brushing his shoulder.
"I hope she comes," she murmured. "I miss her so much. Things haven’t been the same since she left."
"I miss her too," he said finally. "I miss her every day."