Page 100 of His Tempting Duchess

“Why the tears?” he asked, as gently as he could. “You’ve been an incredible success, Emily. The Prince Regent adored the painting, and now you’re all but the Queen of Society. You are on top of the world.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she murmured, sniffling and wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I… I spoke to Margaret before the Prince Regent arrived.”

Icy fingers wrapped around Cassian’s chest.

“Oh?” he began carefully. “And what nonsense did she spout this time?”

Emily glanced up at him, meeting his eyes squarely. “She is afraid that you’ll lose interest in Frances. That once you’re married and have children of your own, you’ll forget her.”

Now,thatwasa surprise. Cassian quite literally rocked back on his heels, as if fending off a blow.

“What madness is this?” he gasped. “Lose interest?ForgetFrances? I never could, and I never would. I think Margaret was in her cups.”

Emily shook her head. “She wasn’t. She was drinking alcohol, to be sure, but not drunk. I understand why she might be afraid of it. After all, Frances is not officially your niece. They can never claim any connection. In the eyes of the world, you owe Frances nothing, not even ahow-d’ye-do.”

Cassian gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Well, it is nonsense. Pure nonsense. She is my brother’s child, and frankly, I often consider hermydaughter. I adore her! Is this what has had Margaret acting so strangely over the past few weeks and months? My marriage? Oh, she is a silly woman. I shall have a sharp word with her about this.”

Emily seemed almost distracted, her gaze somewhat inward-looking. She sighed, shaking her head again. “I already told Margaret that you would never abandon Frances.”

“Thank you,” he said, a little mollified. “I can’t understand why she would believe?—”

“Can’t you?” Emily interrupted, her eyes suddenly blazing. “You really can’t understand why she would distrust you?”

Cassian frowned, suddenly feeling unsteady. The ground seemed to shift underneath him, although that could have been the amount of wine and champagne he’d imbibed.

“I am not sure what you are getting at, Emily.”

Emily stared up at him, taking a careful step closer. He noticed odd details about her—the lock of hair coming loose and hanging, tangled, to brush against her neck; the faint streaks of dark red on her lower lip from wine; the gold necklace around her throat, twisted and sitting oddly.

Desire tightened its iron fist around his gut. He wanted to step forward, take her in his arms, and brush back that lock of hair. He wanted to fiddle with her necklace so that it rested correctly on her skin.

He wanted to kiss away the wine stains, sliding his tongue along her lip, tasting the fine vintages she’d drunk.

He swallowed thickly, balling his fists. He noticed, then, just how bleak her expression had become. Was it tiredness? Too much wine, too much talking, too much smiling at bland congratulations from people who had condemned her only a day before?

“Margaret has known you since you were a child,” Emily whispered. “She saw you grow up. She loves you, for your own sake and that of your brother. But she still cannot trust you, Cassian. She still isn’t sure what type of man you are. She was afraid you would abandon her and her daughter. She believes that you will hurt me and break my heart into a million pieces. She warned me about it, not out of spite or jealousy, but because it is what she truly believes. She loves you, Cassian, but she has no idea how you feel about her and Frances.”

Cassian rocked back again, the feelings of desire disappearing like dew under a desert sun.

This can’t be true. Margaret would never think of such a thing.

Would she?

Memories crept in, quiet and accusing.

When Richard told me that Margaret was upset about something, I never rushed to console her. I never concerned myself with her feelings, because I suppose I assumed she would always be there.

“You are closed off, Cassian,” Emily continued, a tinge of exhaustion in her voice. “You don’t let anybody into your heart, not even the woman you consider your sister-in-law—not even your niece. What are you afraid of?”

“What do you think I am afraid of?” Cassian rasped. “My brother died for love, quite literally. Margaret drinks herself to death and lives a life of melancholy for love. Frances will always live with a terrible secret hanging over her head because of that love. My father exploited love wherever he found it, and he was proud of doing so. Love gives others power over you, and that is that. It makes you weak, and that was what my brother warned me against.”

Emily gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Is that truly what you believe? I love my mother and my sisters, and it never makes me weak. If anything, it makes all of us strong. Do you know what Margaret said about her love for Matthew?”

“Emily…”

“She said that she doesn’t regret it. She said that it was the thing people spend their lives searching for, and she wouldn’t do anything differently.”

“I can hardly believe that,” he snapped.

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