It became painfully obvious that attempting to dissuade her would accomplish nothing. Whatever path Cassandra had chosen, she intended to follow it to the very end.
***
Leaving the busier streets behind, the carriage gradually rolled into one of the quieter residential districts of the capital, where neat rows of brick townhouses stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the night sky.
Though respectable, the neighborhood lacked the grandeur of the aristocratic quarter. Well-tended flower boxes rested beneath polished windows, and modest iron fences enclosed tidy front gardens.
The carriage came to a smooth halt before one such townhouse.
Without so much as a backward glance, Cassandra gracefully stepped onto the pavement. She instructed the coachman to remain where he was before making her way up the short path leading to the front door.
She knocked only once.
Not long afterward, the door swung open to reveal a neatly dressed maid.
The woman blinked upon seeing the finely dressed noblewoman standing on the doorstep before quickly recovering herself and offering a respectful curtsy.
"Good evening, my lady. How may I assist you?"
"Good evening." Cassandra returned the greeting with a polite nod. "I am here to see Mr. Reaver. Is he at home? The matter is rather important. It concerns his work."
There was no possibility of misunderstanding her meaning.
A maid employed by a man such as Sebastian Reaver would undoubtedly know the nature of her master’s profession. She was almost certainly accustomed to unexpected visitors arriving at odd hours with urgent matters that could not wait until morning.
The maid studied her briefly before acquiescing. She led Cassandra through the narrow entrance hall and into a comfortably furnished drawing room.
A well-worn Persian rug covered the polished floor, while shelves lined one wall, crowded with books whose spines had clearly seen years of use.
The furniture was sturdy rather than fashionable, every piece chosen for practicality over display.
Sebastian Reaver joined her only a moment later, pausing the instant he saw who awaited him.
Surprise flickered across his face.
Cassandra had never once sought him out since he had established himself as one of the watch office’s most capable investigators, though she had followed details of his career with satisfaction from afar.
Mary often spoke proudly of her youngest son, and rightly so. Few men born into circumstances like his ever found themselves in such a respected position.
His rise had been earned through intelligence, relentless determination, and no small measure of courage.
Had Cassandra not intervened years ago, however, Sebastian’s higher education would have ended before it had truly begun.
Mary had simply not possessed the means to see him properly educated, and every opportunity available to him would have slipped away before he had been given the chance to prove himself.
Cassandra had gladly stepped into the role of his benefactor, quietly covering the expenses that Mary never could.
Sebastian had never forgotten that kindness and had remained deeply grateful ever since.
Though Mary was still blissfully unaware of what her son truly did for a living. She knew only that he worked in law enforcement, which was not exactly a lie.
Yet if she were ever to discover the full nature of his work—the dangerous investigations, the covert assignments, and the criminals he pursued in the shadows of the kingdom—she undoubtedly would not take it well.
"It is always a pleasure to see you, Miss Ashford, and you are every bit as lovely as ever. I don’t believe you have ever visited my home before." Sebastian said, smoothly slipping into the role of a gracious host.
His northern accent remained audible despite the many years he had spent living in the capital. "I would offer you refreshments and perhaps even give you a tour of the house, but I suspect that isn’t the reason you’ve come."
"You are a smart man, Reaver. I like that about you," she replied, taking him in properly for the first time since he had entered the room.
He possessed an average build, with short, dark curls, deep-set brown eyes, and a face that could easily be considered handsome without being particularly striking.
There was little about his appearance that drew attention, and perhaps that suited him perfectly. Men in his profession benefited from being forgettable.
He gestured toward one of the armchairs.
"Please, have a seat and tell me what brought you here. You know how much I dislike being kept uninformed. Have you finally decided to collect the debt I’ve been trying to repay for years?"
"I have."
His good humor disappeared almost immediately.
People did not seek out officers of the Watch without good reason. If Cassandra had come to him seeking assistance, then whatever she wanted was either serious or illegal.
Perhaps even both.
"What do you need?" he asked, his voice noticeably more subdued.
Cassandra did not waste time. "I want you to look into someone. John Ravenshire. I’m sure you’ve heard of him before. After all, he does love making himself the centre of attention."
Sebastian’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly.
"I’ve heard a thing or two about him."
She continued before he had the opportunity to say anything else.
"You see, I want everything you can find out about him. His business dealings. His finances. The company he keeps. His more unseemly habits. If he keeps a mistress, I want to know. If he has fathered any bastards, I want to know. Every rumour, every fact you can get your hands on, no matter how insignificant it may appear."
Anything solid enough to shatter the spotless image he had spent years cultivating.
Sebastian let out a disbelieving laugh. "You cannot possibly be serious."
The request was so unlike Cassandra that it sounded almost absurd coming from her.
She met his gaze without the slightest trace of amusement.
A few silent moments passed before Sebastian’s laughter faded entirely.
"I see that you are," he said, the last remnants of his smile disappearing. Lowering himself into the vacant armchair opposite her, he regarded her with growing concern. "I was under the impression you wanted nothing further to do with Mr. Ravenshire after the engagement ended."
"I don’t."
"Then why investigate him?"
For a brief moment, Cassandra considered what to tell him.
How could she possibly explain that she had nearly been manipulated into a marriage by people she had once trusted? That every certainty she had built her life upon had crumbled beneath her feet? That she no longer knew who was a friend, who was an enemy, or how deeply the corruption surrounding her truly reached?
She could not. Not yet.
"I’ve learned," she began, "that I know far less about the people around me than I once believed. I don’t intend to make that mistake again."
Sebastian searched her face, perhaps hoping she would offer something more, some explanation that would make sense of the request.
She didn’t.
He let out a slow sigh. "I’ll begin as soon as possible. Rest assured, I will do my best to get you what you need."
That was precisely why Cassandra had come to Sebastian.
He was meticulous, discreet, and, perhaps most importantly, he understood that some questions were best left unasked.
Once he accepted a case, his attention became singular. He pursued the truth with a persistence that few could match.
In a kingdom where secrets were currency and trust was a luxury few could afford, there was no one better suited to uncovering the truth than a man like Sebastian Reaver.