Of loving him with all her heart.
She’d known she missed him, loved him, but hadn’t truly comprehended or realized the immeasurable, fathomless depths of those feelings until she’d seen him again. Hadn’t understood that “missed” was a lukewarm description for the gut-wrenching, enervating yearning now settled in her soul. Hadn’t conceived the vast difference between loving someone and being struck by the irrefutable realization that you are deeply, intensely, insanely in love with that person.
Now she knew.
And God help her, she didn’t think she’d ever recover from that brief taste of paradise. Because she would crave it with her whole heart and soul, every day for the rest of her life. With Ethan. Only Ethan.
And Ethan was gone.
Hot moisture pooled behind her eyes and she quickly blinked it away. She then set down her teacup and slipped her hand into the deep pocket of her gown where her fingers brushed over the note he’d left her. I cannot bear to say good-bye.
When she’d first read those words, her heart had crumbled that she wouldn’t see him again before departing the Blue Seas Inn. But then, as she’d sat in the carriage and watched the inn fade into the distance, she realized he’d done the right thing. She wouldn’t have been able to say good-bye, either. Wouldn’t have been able to force her legs to step into the conveyance that with each turn of its wheels would take her farther away from him. And she’d had to leave.
Hadn’t she?
Her brows furrowed into a frown. Of course she’d had to leave. Her place was here. At Gateshead Manor.
Wasn’t it?
Her frown deepened, and her gaze scanned the beautifully appointed, luxurious room. She’d grown up here, among the rich furnishings and multitude of servants, enjoying the comforts her family’s wealth provided. Yet the manor itself hadn’t been what she’d loved best. Her favorite part of the estate had always been the vast grounds. Which she’d explored with Ethan. And the stables. Where she’d spent time with Ethan.
“Don’t you agree, Cassandra?”
Her mother’s imperious question broke into her reverie, and with an effort she dragged her attention back. “Agree?”
Her mother pursed her lips in the display of vexation Cassandra remembered all too well. In the three hours since she’d arrived at Gateshead Manor, she’d already been treated to that look several times.
“That when Lord and Lady Thornton visit next week, it would be acceptable to host a small musicale in their honor.”
“Of course, if that is what you wish. Why wouldn’t it be acceptable?”
“Because of you, of course.” She shot Cassandra’s black gown a pointed stare. “Your state of mourning.”
Cassandra had to press her lips together to contain the bark of bitter laughter that rushed into her throat. “I won’t be the least offended, Mother,” she managed in a dust-dry tone.
“Damn mourning period,” her father said in his gruff voice. “An inconvenient nuisance is what it is.” He pinned Cassandra with the frosty, narrow-eyed glare that had never failed to freeze her in place as a child. His pale blue eyes had always reminded her of shards of ice. “Damn inconsiderate of Westmore to leave you with nothing, but of course the man had his reasons.” He didn’t actually say the words, Because you failed to provide him with an heir, but given the way they permeated the air, he didn’t need to. “Yet all will be as it should as soon as your mourning period is over. I’ve arranged everything.”
“Arranged? What do you mean?”
“Your next marriage.”
A deafening silence filled the room. One that seemed to suck out all the air. For several seconds Cassandra could do nothing save stare at her father. Surely she had misheard him. She had to swallow twice to find her voice. “I beg your pardon? It sounded like you said, ‘your next marriage.’”
“That’s precisely what I said. The Duke of Atterly has expressed interest. I recently purchased an estate in Kent he covets. In exchange, he’s agreed to settle a good sum on you and a nice bit of land in Surrey on me. His first wife, rest her soul, provided him with three sons, so your barren state is not a deterrent, thank God. The only possible problem is this bothersome mourning period of yours. What with the duke’s advanced age, being forced to wait these next ten months is a gamble. Hopefully he won’t cock up his toes before the deed is done.”
The wave of stunned disbelief that swept over Cassandra nearly drowned her, and she had to fight to compose herself so that the next sound she uttered wouldn’t be a laugh, a cry, or a scream. Or a combination of all three. She glanced at her mother, who nodded and said, “You’re very fortunate, Cassandra. It’s an excellent match.”
Stomach heaving, she returned her attention to her father. After clearing her throat she said carefully, speaking each word very precisely so there would be no misunderstanding, “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. I have no intention of marrying again.”
Her father’s eyes turned from frosty to frigid. “Your intentions do not enter into this, daughter. You’ll marry Atterly immediately upon the end of your mourning period, provided he’s still alive. If he should die in the interim, Lord Templeton-whose first wife also provided him with sons-is my second choice.”
Cassandra pressed her hands against her midriff in a vain attempt to calm her jittery insides. Then she raised her chin and met her father’s glare. “I will not marry either gentleman.”
Crimson flushed her father’s cheeks, and his eyes narrowed further. “You will do exactly as I say. The arrangements have already been made.”
“Then you’ll need to unarrange them.”
“I’ll do nothing of the sort.” He rose and crossed the short distance between them in two angry strides, then glowered down at her. “A match between you and Atterly is more than you deserve. You’ll be a duchess.”
Cassandra’s insides trembled, not with fear, but with revulsion and icy rage. She slowly stood and faced her father, locking her knees so he wouldn’t detect their trembling. “Thanks to the last marriage you arranged for me, I’m already a countess-a title that has not brought me a moment of happiness.”
“Happiness?” The word exploded from her father in an incredulous bark. “This has nothing to do with happiness.”
“Obviously. It has to do with you gaining the piece of land you covet. Just as my first marriage you arranged had to do with several thousand acres in Dorset.”
“Which is precisely the sort of advantageous mergers marriages should be based upon.”
“Advantageous for you, but not for me.”
“Making you a duchess is certainly an advantage. Whether you want to marry him or not doesn’t matter. You will do as I say. God knows you owe me that much-you’ve not been of any other use.”
She’d heard various themes on those words so many times, first from her father, then Westmore, that they should have ceased to hurt by now. And although they still stung, they mostly filled her with an icy, quiet calm. “I paid whatever debt you feel I owed you by agreeing to the first marriage you arranged. I’ll not agree to another.”
His arctic eyes bored into her with pure disgust. “You are living in my home, without any means, and will therefore do as I say. I’ll not hear any further arguments regarding the matter. You have ten months to accustom yourself to the idea, and you’d best do so, as you have no choice.” He jerked his waistcoat into place and raked a scathing scowl over her. “You’d best retire to your bedchamber until dinner. You’re looking more peaked than usual.” With that he returned to his wing chair and picked up his teacup as if nothing had just transpired, secure in the knowledge that his every word would be obeyed.