Someone I Can Trust

The back of the hand closed around the crystal glass — and every knuckle of every finger — still carried the vivid marks of countless rough and brutal labors. The joints were so thick and hard as to seem almost malformed, and the skin glimpsed beneath the shirt cuffs was a lattice of nicks and scrapes.

Strip away the impeccably gentlemanly attire, and one might well have believed those were the hands of a stevedore hauling cargo along the docks at the mouth of the River Tess. The only difference was that, unlike laborers who had grown up half-starved, the bones of these hands were overwhelmingly, almost monstrously large.

Honestly, to Benjamin's eyes, those hands looked like the forepaws of a beast. And it was not merely their savage appearance he meant.

Those were hands that knew how to kill.

Benjamin had no intention of dismissing Cassian the way the usual idiots of high society did — as some bloodthirsty, uncivilized slaughterer. He knew perfectly well that Cassian's achievements were what held this kingdom together. Merit was merit. To call him a slaughterer was no fitting language for a citizen of Brighton living under his protection. But neither could one ignore the thick stench of blood that clung to the man, or the traces of slaughter he carried. To pretend those were not there would be a different kind of denial of reality — or so Benjamin believed.

The worry that had circled him for days now settled deeper still. Even if it was only a three-year contract marriage, he could not be certain it was right to send Wilhelmina to the side of a predator this dangerous. This was a man who had spent half his life at the apex of a fleet, commanding soldiers who obeyed his every order without question. Could such a man understand — even a fraction — of Wilhelmina's peculiar stubbornness and her outrageous nerve? Could he endure it?

Benjamin let out a deep, heavy sigh. Cassian, who had kept his silence, offered gently:

"This doesn't seem to be a matter for silent brooding. You're welcome to say whatever you're thinking, without reservation."

"Forgive me. I was momentarily lost in idle thoughts and sentiment."

Benjamin waved a hand and swallowed the bitter brandy. Setting the glass down, he had to admit it was a rather ridiculous worry. If Cassian Windstor had truly been a man incapable of enduring Wilhelmina's temperament, this whole affair would have collapsed into catastrophe long ago. And yet the two of them had, with remarkable peace, dragged this absurd farce all the way here. Which was, in itself, clear evidence that Cassian was every bit as mad as Wilhelmina.

But one fact remained undeniable: their marriage would leave Wilhelmina defenselessly exposed to the blood-soaked political infighting of the court. That, as her brother, was a clear and present threat Benjamin could not possibly overlook. And so, here and now, he had to raise the point and settle it.

"Let us first make one thing perfectly clear."

Benjamin wet his throat with brandy and cleared it.

"Regarding this matter — to borrow our Wilhelmina's rather daring turn of phrase — Your Highness intends to..."

"Yes. I intend to marry her, on the premise of a mutual contract."

Unlike Benjamin, Cassian filled in the answer without a shred of hesitation. Benjamin swallowed the sigh that nearly escaped and pressed on.

"And the reason Your Highness is so determined to do so is to block Prince Edward's interference and ascend to the Regency quietly, without any fuss."

Cassian did not bother answering a remark that struck so precisely at the heart of the matter. Benjamin pressed on with a sharp intensity.

"But Your Highness — why Wilhelmina, of all people? If all you wanted was my support, there would have been far easier ways to obtain it. And frankly, Winster's high society is overflowing with ladies far more docile and far less difficult in temperament than that girl."

"If what you're trying to say is that easily managed brides are lying about everywhere, I agree with you entirely."

With a languid smile, Cassian tore through the polite wrapping Benjamin had so laboriously applied, all in a single stroke.

"Someone you can trust..."

Benjamin frowned. His sister was, of course, gifted in any number of respects. But in the present circumstances, and coming from the mouth of Cassian Windstor no less, the word trustworthy felt rather unexpectedly out of place.

"Miss Priestley, you see, is the sort of person who would throw a glove in my face and demand a duel rather than slip poison into my dinner."

"Ah."

Benjamin understood at once, and nodded.

"If you mean it in that extreme and rather warlike sense, then I take your point."

And in all likelihood, the champion in that duel would be Francesca. Should it come to that, His Highness the noble Regent's head bursting open like a dropped watermelon would be only a matter of time, Benjamin thought.

Now that would be a spectacle worth watching.

Unpleasant either way, in truth. He sighed as though the ground itself might give way beneath him, then opened his mouth with an exceedingly complicated expression.

"Your Highness may or may not be aware, but I have something of a reputation in Winster for displaying extreme and immediate force of action where my family's affairs are concerned."

The phrase something of was a rather extraordinary compression of his track record to date.

"So I shall be blunt. Even if Your Highness does not proceed with a contract of such uncertain prospects with Wilhelmina, I fully intend to stand on your side at the forthcoming Upper House session on the Regency Act."

He set the brandy glass down with a deliberate click and looked Cassian straight in the eye.

"That is how I refuse to forgive a certain vile, unteachable someone who dared lay a hand on my family. Do you understand my meaning?"

Cassian did not answer. Benjamin laced his fingers on the table and leaned further forward.

"Shall I speak even more honestly, with still less varnish? If she marries Your Highness, there are things Wilhelmina will inevitably have to endure. I haven't the confidence to stand by and watch that child suffer."

He had phrased it with a gentleman's circumlocution, but the core was unmistakable. I will use my influence to make you Regent without you and my sister having to use each other — so kindly withdraw, while we can still part on good terms. A polite warning.

A heavy silence pressed down on the study for a moment.

"I am truly sorry and regretful to have to say this, Duke."

It was Cassian, who had listened in silence until now, who broke the stillness.

"Why your resolve should be required regarding the things Miss Priestley will have to face... frankly, I find it rather difficult to comprehend, by any common sense I possess."

"...Have you actually understood a word I've said?"

Benjamin's brows drew together ferociously as he demanded it, but Cassian answered with perfect composure.

"If you mean your tearfully devoted affection for your own blood, I have understood that perfectly well."

Understood, my ass. Benjamin chewed on a curse he couldn't quite let out. He would have wagered half his fortune that the sleek-faced man sitting across from him had not understood so much as a scrap of his patriarchal sense of duty, nor of the deep affection he held for his family.

"But, well. Where shall I begin..."

Cassian's voice was low and soft, laced with amusement. The gently curved line of his eyes not only resembled those of his mother, who had been renowned as a peerless beauty, but carried something faintly eerie and almost bewitching as well.

"First of all, as I see it, Miss Priestley has a perfectly clear picture of what she will have to face, and she possesses both the ability and the resolve to bear it. And secondly..."

"Damn it."

Benjamin finally couldn't hold it in, and the coarse words slipped out.

"Just how long do you intend to drag this out?"

"I merely needed a moment to choose my words — nerves, you understand. I'd be grateful if you'd bear with me."