Sebastian had worked with Cassandra long enough to recognize the look that had settled over her features. It was the expression she wore whenever she was arranging scattered pieces in her mind into something coherent, testing each possible conclusion before allowing herself to believe it.
He had long since learned not to interrupt whenever she got like this.
After a time, Cassandra broke the silence.
"Keep watching the house." She rested one gloved hand against the carriage door, her gaze still lingering on the little house as the coachman flicked the reins and the carriage eased back into motion. "For now, I simply want to know whether Mr. Ravenshire returns. If he does, when. If he brings anyone with him. If anyone else calls upon the house. Every visitor. I want to be informed."
Sebastian nodded in assent. "I’ll have one of my men maintain a discreet watch."
"Good."
Only then did Cassandra allow herself to lean back into the seat.
The little house gradually disappeared behind them as they turned onto one of the capital’s wider streets.
There was a lull in conversation and the only sounds inside the carriage were the rhythmic clatter of wheels over cobblestones.
Eventually, Sebastian spoke, steering them to safer grounds.
"I saw my mother yesterday."
Cassandra glanced toward him.
"Did you?" She asked, appreciating the change. She was even more pleased that they were speaking about him mother, Mary, one of her favorite people in the world.
"I hadn’t visited her in some time. She was pleased to remind me of this fact."
The corner of Cassandra’s mouth lifted faintly. "That sounds very much like Mary."
"It does." He agreed, then almost as an afterthought, he added. "We spoke about Lady Ashford as well. She mentioned her Ladyship has been rather unwell."
Cassandra’s smile disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. She did her best to keep her eyes on the passing roads beyond the carriage window, trying to hide how much his words had affected her.
"I see."
There was another pause. Then he asked, "Have you been to see her?"
"No." The answer was quiet but it left no room for any further questions.
Sebastian understood the dismissal for what it was.
He nodded once and allowed the matter to drop and for that Cassandra was grateful.
By the time the carriage reached the palace, neither of them had spoken another word to each other.
---
The days that followed blurred together, each one eclipsed by the restless state of her mind.
Every morning brought another stack of memoranda awaiting her attention.
Every afternoon disappeared beneath endless council meetings and reports arriving from every corner of the kingdom.
Every evening found her seated beneath the warm glow of candlelight, reading until the words blurred together and her eyes ached from the strain.
She welcomed the endless work. It kept her hands busy.
Unfortunately, it did very little to occupy her thoughts.
More often than she cared to admit, her mind drifted back to the same sentence Sebastian had spoken so absentmindedly inside the carriage.
Mother mentioned that Her Ladyship has been rather unwell.
The words lingered with maddening persistence.
Whenever she returned to her chambers, her eyes wandered almost of their own accord toward the bedside table.
More specifically, toward its top drawer.
Inside lay her mother’s letter, exactly where she had hidden it on the day it arrived.
Every evening she found another excuse not to reopen it.
Tomorrow.
After this report.
After the next council meeting.
When she was less tired.
When she had clearer thoughts.
The excuses multiplied until they became almost laughable. Eventually, even she stopped believing them.
One evening, after dismissing her maid for the night, Cassandra stood alone in her chambers and her gaze drifted toward the bedside table.
This time, she did not force herself to look away.
Slowly, she walked to the drawer and pulled it open. The neatly folded letter rested exactly where she had left it.
She picked it up carefully, her thumb tracing the familiar handwriting without unfolding it.
She scarcely needed to reread its contents.
She had replayed every line often enough in her mind that she could have recited the entire letter from memory.
Closing her eyes, she drew a slow, claiming breath.
The hurt her family had caused her had not faded. She doubted it ever truly would.
But another thought refused to leave her in peace.
If her mother truly was ill... What if her condition worsened?
The possibility settled over Cassandra’s chest, as though someone had placed a heavy slab of stone on top of her lungs.
She lowered the letter onto the table and stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring down at it, trapped between two equally painful choices.
If she went, she would have to face the people who had spent years making her feel invisible.
But if she stayed away... What if something happened?
What if her mother’s health worsened tremendously before she found the courage to visit?
Would she truly be able to live with herself afterward?
Would she spend the rest of her life wondering whether she had allowed bitterness to rob her of one final opportunity?
The thought alone made her stomach twist.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I’ll go," she whispered into the empty room, as though speaking the words aloud might strengthen her resolve.
Not because she trusted them or even because she had forgiven them.
Yet guilt was a peculiar thing.
It possessed a way of creeping into the smallest cracks of the heart until it became impossible to ignore.
Her mother was no longer a spry youth. She had always possessed a delicate constitution, and age had only made her more fragile.
What if Cassandra remained stubborn and her pride kept her away until it was too late?
She doubted she would ever outrun that regret. The guilt alone would be immeasurable.
Her throat felt tight and a bitter laugh escaped her lips.
Even after everything, after doing her best to distance herself, her parents still had such a strong control over her.
Even after convincing herself she no longer cared, some small part of her still did.
The following morning, Cassandra instructed a servant to have a carriage prepared.
Against every instinct urging her to remain away and against her earlier conviction, she would return to Ashford House.