Page 4 of Bred By the Duke

I told myself at the time that I was being decent. That she was Cassia's closest friend, and the house was full of relatives. That I had nothing to offer her past the end of that night, and no business taking anything from her on those terms. All of which was true.

But I couldn’t make myself believe it.

Four years is a long time to keep telling yourself something you don’t entirely believe.

Now she is here, looking more radiant than ever, directing men around my property with an authority I can’t help but admire.

My mother has the seating plan spread across the morning room table when I come in, which is an issue, because I know this room is being used by Rochelle.

“There you are.” She doesn't look up. “Honora thinks the Ravenel’s can't go near the Fitzhugh’s.”

“The Ravenel’s can't go near the Fitzhugh’s,” Honora confirms from the chair that faces the large window, where she is doing nothing whatsoever with tremendous authority. “Not since the summer of oh-seven.”

“Then don't seat them together,” I say, like it’s obvious.

“It isn't as simple as that, darling.” My mother moves a card two inches and looks at it with dislike. “Everything is load-bearing.”

I lift the corner of the plan and find, underneath it, a lever arch file, a column of figures in handwriting I don't recognize, and a page headed COMPLETE with about a third of the boxes filled in.

“This table's in use.”

“By your sister's friend, yes.” My mother straightens. Vivienne has a way of saying entirely pleasant sentences that arrive with the corners filed off. “What a mercy she could take the whole week off. I did wonder what sort of employer allows that at such short notice.”

“A good one,” I say.

“Mm.” She moves another card. “Delphine arrives on Friday, by the way. The Corvain’s are staying Friday through Sunday, and I've put her in the blue room, and her parents in the rose room.”

The blue room is at the top of the east stairs, four doors from mine, and I know that’s the room Cassia always puts Rochelle in.

“It’s Cassia's wedding,” I say by way to explain her best friend managing to get extra time off. “And the blue room is taken, it’s the one Rochelle uses when she is here.”

My mother mostly ignores me.

Aunt Honora makes a small noise.

“It's simply that everybody will be here, and people notice who's beside you in the photographs. That's all a wedding is, in the end. A photograph everyone keeps.”

“Xanthe Bodaville's been settled at last,” Honora says. “Hugo Vance. Announced last month.”

Settled, like an account. I've known Xanthe since she was nine, and she is nothing if not dutiful. “How lovely for them both,” I say, and my aunt gives me a look that says she heard exactly what I was thinking.

I take the seating plan off the table, roll it, and hand it to my mother.

“Use the dining room or the drawing room or even father’s office,” I tell her. “This one's spoken for.”

***

Somehow, I survive dinner with Rochelle sitting three seats down from me on the left.

When I overheard Cassia calling Rochelle and begging her to come and help prepare for the wedding, I cleared my week instantly.

I've been telling everyone since that I cleared it for my sister, but truthfully, I doubt I’d be any use to her when it comes to this stuff. The truth is I’ve been purposefully avoiding being on the estate when Cassia has Rochelle around. I thought after four years I would be able to see her and not feel the emotions from that night.

I was wrong.

Apparently, those feelings are stitched into my actual soul, there’s no escaping them. Rochelle is polite, and respectful, and here to help her best friend… and it’s taking every ounce of what I am to not say or do anything about the way I feel.

Once everyone retires, I go to the only place on the estate where I know no one will look for me.