Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 13

Cassandra inspected her features in the dim looking glass. If she wasn't the shallow, vain girl she'd been a few months ago, who was she? Yes, she was Lady Cassandra Antrucha, but somehow the name didn't seem to bolster her up as it had used to.

"Are you ready?" Lavinia's quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

Turning from the mirror, Cassandra smiled. "Yes." Straightening, she smoothed imaginary wrinkles in her gown. "But you shouldn't be up." She raised a brow at her sister. "I'm still not sure we should be going anywhere."

"You and Ethan both." Lavinia laughed, and the sound seemed fuller and more robust than it had been the day before. "Really, you needn't worry so much. This visit isn't going as I'd planned." She made a wry face. "I had hoped you could have more time to yourself to rest. You'd be surprised what wonders the moors can do for the disgruntled soul."

Cassandra looked away from Lavinia's prying gaze, wondering if those big, dark eyes had seen her inner turmoil. She had tried to keep herself steady over the past week, but the reality was, she was almost out of her mind with boredom. She had taken Lavinia's household duties upon herself—with Eliza's assistance, of course—and tedium had ensued.

In some ways, she found herself missing the bustle of London. Oddly enough, the thought of the busy city made her yearn to return home. She'd been glad to rid herself of it, but now, locked inside the cottage for more than a week, she was beginning to have second thoughts. She wanted more, but what that 'more' was, she didn't know, and it was driving her to distraction.

"Ladies, the carriage has arrived." Eliza's voice at the door startled Cassandra, jolting her back to reality. How could she have been so foolish and selfish? Life wasn't about being happy.

Thrusting her shoulders painfully back, she followed Lavinia out of the room, throwing on her cape as she went. Lavinia needed her help, and helping Lavinia was probably all she would ever do. Even if her mother hadn't concocted a plan to force her into a marriage, London no longer held a place for her. Nowhere did.

Ethan handed her into the carriage, but she hardly took notice. A strange thrill of excitement passed through her heart as the horses began to move. She was going, and it didn't matter where. A stifling weight lifted from her heart. She hadn't realized how much she'd needed to get outside the view of the cottage until now.

The drive was not overly long, but it was too dark to admire the countryside, so she simply stared out the window at the moon. The roads of Scotland seemed to be as untamed as the rolling moors, however, and she was thoroughly jostled and bounced before the carriage came to a stop before a towering building.

It could have been said that the Fergus's lived in a castle. 'Mansion' wasn't quite the proper word to describe the towering structure: somehow, it didn't seem to capture the history behind the jutting turrets and stone alcoves. Whatever word was used, it could never fully convey the beauty of Fergus Manor.

"I'm so glad you've come!" Irene met them at the door, beaming. "Charlie and Graham were just beginning to discuss such boring things that I feared I might fall asleep."

Warm candlelight surrounded Cassandra as a servant approached to take her cape. Her eyes swept the foyer from the polished, stone floor to the ceiling high above her head. Crazily enough, the outside of Fergus Manor—beautiful as it was—couldn't compare to the beauty of the rooms within.

"Say no more, little sister. I know all too well how tedious you find me." Charles Fergus smiled fondly down at his sister. "You must be Lady Cassandra Antrucha." His gaze fell on her. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you." He gallantly took her hand, pressing it firmly before releasing her.