The last carriage disappeared beyond the wrought-iron gates of Ravenshire Manor Its lanterns dwindled into the darkness until they were little more than pinpricks against the night.
Inside the ballroom, every trace of the celebration was already being erased. Some servants collected used glass cups still holding unfinished drinks, while others folded tablecloths stained with spilled wine before lifting the silver candelabra away.
The musicians packed up their instruments as well.
Many servants had not been present for the event but that didn’t stop them from hearing all about what happened.
John walked through the halls that led to the manor’s east wing without acknowledging a single person he passed.
At twenty-nine, he possessed the polished demeanor society admired. His dark brown hair remained impeccably styled despite the evening’s chaos, and his tailored black evening coat fit his firm perfectly.
He was, by all account, the sort of gentleman ambitious mothers hoped their daughters might marry.
Tonight, it didn’t matter.
A maid carrying fresh linens caught sight of him and lowered her head at once, stepping aside. The guard behind her did the same. Neither dared to say a word to him.
He had spent years cultivating a perfect reputation. Respectable. Charming. Dependable. The future Marquess Ravenshire.
Years, reduced to nothing in a single evening when she made a spectacle of him. She had taken control of the evening, of the conversation, of him.
He reached the family’s private sitting room and pushed the door open.
His mother rose from the settee when he stepped inside.
Agnes Ravenshire had aged gracefully. Lady Ravenshire had been considered one of the great beauties of her generation, and even the passing years had done little to diminish the effect she had on others.
She had long been one of the most influential women in high society. Wealthy, ruthless and incredibly connected, she drew attention wherever she went.
Young debutantes sought her favor, while ladies of every rank vied for her attention. With a woman of such stature, the scandal that had befallen House Ravenshire was more than an embarrassment. It was a personal affront to her pride.
Relief flooded her the moment she saw him.
"There you are." She hurried towards him. "I’ve been worried sick."
Agnes scanned his face, wishing she could see the thoughts plaguing him in that moment.
"This has been an unfortunate evening," she said gently, choosing her words with care, "but scandals are often short-lived. Society will soon find something else to occupy itself."
John didn’t answer. He removed his gloves, one finger at a time, and folded them neatly.
Agnes watched his movements, slow and controlled, and felt herself relax. Good. He didn’t seem angry. He was collecting himself quite well, given the situation.
"We shall speak with Cassandra Ashford tomorrow," she continued. "Once she’s had time to think clearly, I’m certain she’ll realise she acted rashly."
John loosened his cravat and laid it beside the gloves on a flat surface with care. He shrugged out of his coat, folded it, and set it down as well.
Agnes opened her mouth again but the words barely made it out.
Without warning, John swept out his arm, sending the items on the table crashing to the floor.
Glass and porcelain shattered. A bronze candlestick spun free and struck the floor with a clang.
Agnes flinched, her heart lurching into her throat.
John remained exactly where he stood. His breathing quickened, chest heaving but aside from that, he looked perfectly calm, as though the wreckage around him was done by someone else.
He looked down at the shattered glass, tiny fragments that caught the light.
He hadn’t intended to do that. Or perhaps he had. He wasn’t entirely sure anymore. All he knew was that something inside him was restless and his hands wanted to feel something, to do something.
Agnes approached carefully and rested a hand on his arm. "John, listen to me. Cassandra has always been brass. She’s stubborn, and tonight she let pride govern her judgment. No sensible woman throws away a future like the one you offered her."
But John’s mind was already elsewhere, in a room full of the kingdom’s most influential men and women, all of them watching him. He had become the evening’s entertainment.
He had spent years ensuring people admired him. Tonight they pitied him instead, and the thought stung.
"She embarrassed me," he said finally. His voice was emotionless.
Agnes nodded. "I know."
"No." His gaze drifted past her. "You don’t."
He thought of the guests again. How many had enjoyed it. How many had hidden their satisfaction behind sympathetic glances. How many would repeat the story tomorrow as they sat to eat breakfast with their families?
Poor Lord John. How unfortunate. Did you hear what Lady Cassandra did?
She had made him look weak. That was the part he couldn’t forgive.
Agnes squeezed his arm. "People know your character. They won’t blame you for this."
That might be true but people admired strength, confidence, and men who stayed in control. Tonight he had stood motionless while a woman stripped all three away from him.
He heard his father’s voice at the door but John was in no mood to deal with the man that sired him.
A moment later, he had no choice but to face the disapproving glare of William Ravenshire.
Though silver had begun to thread through his dark hair, it had done nothing to diminish the commanding presence that had earned him respect in the queen’s council. His expression rarely betrayed emotion, yet tonight disappointment sat heavily upon his features.
His gaze swept the room, noting the broken glass, the overturned table and finally, his enraged son.
"Are you finished?" William asked.
Both men were at an impasse where neither wanted to be the fight to look away.
William didn’t wait long for an answer. He hadn’t really expected one.
"I spoke with Ashford before I came up here," William said. "He tells me Cassandra tried to end this engagement weeks ago."
John’s jaw worked, but he said nothing.
"I asked if he was certain and he was. Would you care to explain why I was the last to hear about this?"
"I was handling it," John retorted.
"Handling it?" William scoffed. "Is that what you wish to call it? Because from where I’m standing all you managed to do was make a huge mess of everything. You let me fill this house with guests and toast an engagement you knew was already dead."
Agnes, who had been standing near John since her husband walked in, finally spoke up. "William, that’s unfair to him. He was trying to save his engagement and he did what he could. It is that ungrateful woman who is at fault. She is the one who deserves your ire, not our son."
"Lady Cassandra didn’t do anything wrong, nor did she say anything tonight that isn’t the truth, Agnes. She simply finished what she started weeks ago, in front of almost all our acquaintances, all because our son gave her no other choice."
Agnes’s lips thinned in distaste, hating how her husband had jumped quickly into defending that woman when he wouldn’t even spare the same courtesy for their son.
"That woman has always thought too highly of herself." Agnes clicked her tongue. "Marrying John would have been the making of her, and she couldn’t even see it. She humiliated him because she is spoiled, William. Spoiled and ungrateful, and I will not stand here and pretend otherwise."
"She ended an engagement she no longer wanted. That is not a crime." William shot back.
"It is when she waits until the entire room is watching to do it!"
"She wouldn’t have needed to if your son had let her do it quietly two weeks ago."
Agnes turned to her son instead, softening her voice, the way she always did with him. "You did nothing wrong. You loved her more than she deserved, and this is how she repaid you. Don’t let your father make you feel otherwise."
John didn’t respond. He was aware, distantly, that he was being talked about. He was aware of his mother trying to build him back up while in the very same breath, his father was taking him apart.
"I didn’t come up here to debate what Lady Cassandra did or didn’t deserve. I came because a lie was told under my roof, with my name attached to it, and I want to understand why you thought that was acceptable." William demanded. He always sounded this way when he was seconds away from losing his temper.
"I didn’t lie to you."
"You let two weeks pass without speaking to me about the matter. That is the same thing."
John had no answer for that one. He stared down at his feet, hating how his father always found a way to make him feel small.
"I expect you to deliver a sincere apology to Lord and Lady Ashford by morning for wasting their time and dragging them into this mess" William ordered.
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned to leave but paused once at the door as though he might say something further, then thought better of it.
Agnes lingered another moment longer, glancing at the mess on the floor as if it personally offended her sense of order.
"Your father will come around. He’s embarrassed in front of his friends, that’s all this is." She pressed a hand lovingly to John’s cheek. "You go and rest. There’s no point crying over spilled milk."
She left soon after, the door clicking shut behind her, and John was alone with the wreckage he caused.
He didn’t move to clean any of it up. Instead he sat in the chair nearest the cold side of the fireplace and let his mind empty out for the first time all evening, which was worse, in its way, than the noise had been.
Without his parents’ argument to focus on, there was nothing left to think about except Cassandra, and what she’d done, and what it would cost him to fix the damages she caused.