the Villainess they took for granted

Chapter 71: Chapter 71: Things She Never Asked

The departure of the hunting party changed the atmosphere of the lodge.

The men left with their horses, hounds, attendants, and endless enthusiasm for chasing things through forests.

The women remained behind.

Marian considered this a perfectly sensible arrangement.

Mostly because it meant she did not have to spend the entire day accidentally making eye contact with Cassian.

A welcome development.

Or so she told herself.

Unfortunately, the moment the hunting party disappeared from view, she realized she was wondering where he was.

Which was ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

Marian sighed.

Then accepted a cup of tea.

The ladies had gathered in one of the lodge’s sunrooms.

Large windows overlooked the gardens.

Soft conversations filled the room.

Servants moved quietly between tables.

Ordinarily Marian enjoyed gatherings like this.

Today she found herself distracted.

Which was becoming an alarming habit.

The conversation drifted between recent events, noble families, and the upcoming social season.

Marian listened politely.

Contributed when required.

Smiled at appropriate moments.

Then she heard a familiar title.

"His Grace."

Immediately her attention sharpened.

The realization arrived a second later.

And Marian almost groaned.

Because she had become exactly the sort of woman she used to make fun of.

A single mention of a certain duke.

And suddenly she was listening.

Traitorous behavior.

"He’s become even more popular lately."

Laughter followed.

"Is that even possible?"

Another lady shook her head.

"My youngest daughter nearly cried when she learned His Grace would be attending this gathering."

The table erupted into amusement.

Marian lowered her teacup.

Against her better judgment.

She listened.

Not because she was interested.

She was absolutely interested.

That was the problem.

"You know," an older countess said, "sometimes I forget how young he actually is."

Several women nodded.

"Most people do."

Marian paused.

Young.

Cassian was twenty-three.

Only twenty-three.

The realization felt strange.

Not because she hadn’t known.

Because somehow he seemed older.

Not in appearance.

In presence.

Responsibility.

Experience.

Then again, perhaps that wasn’t surprising.

After all, Cassian himself had once told her he had never been meant to become Duke.

The memory surfaced unexpectedly.

A campfire.

A forest.

A quiet conversation.

"My brother was supposed to inherit everything."

At the time, Marian had listened.

Now she thought about it.

Really thought about it.

"Most people forget His Grace was the second son," one lady remarked.

Another nodded.

"The late heir was expected to inherit."

Marian’s fingers tightened slightly around her teacup.

Because she already knew that.

What she didn’t know was why hearing it now felt different.

Perhaps because before, it had simply been information.

Now it was part of Cassian.

A piece of him.

"He was only sixteen when his brother died."

The room grew quieter.

Not silent.

Respectful.

The kind of silence that followed old tragedies.

Marian remembered that conversation too.

Cassian had never elaborated.

Never dramatized it.

Never asked for sympathy.

He had simply stated the fact.

And moved on.

At the time, she had accepted that.

Now she found herself wondering what sixteen-year-old Cassian had looked like.

What kind of boy he had been.

Whether he had laughed as easily back then.

Whether he had smiled the same way.

Whether he had been frightened.

The thought caught her off guard.

Because she had never wondered before.

"Then the late Duke passed away less than a year later."

Marian blinked.

That part she hadn’t known.

A few ladies nodded sadly.

"People say he never recovered from losing his eldest son."

The room fell quiet again.

And suddenly the timeline became painfully clear.

A brother lost.

A father buried.

A duchy inherited.

All before adulthood.

Marian stared down into her tea.

The Cassian she knew laughed too easily.

Teased too often.

Smiled too much.

Not because he was shallow.

Because he carried things lightly.

The realization settled somewhere deep inside her chest.

A strange mixture of admiration and sadness.

"Still," another lady said, breaking the solemn mood, "he handled it remarkably well."

Immediate agreement followed.

"He stabilized the duchy."

"Expanded trade."

"Negotiated three separate border agreements."

"And managed to avoid marrying every ambitious young lady in the Empire."

Laughter erupted once more.

The mood lightened instantly.

Marian smiled despite herself.

That sounded familiar.

Very familiar.

The conversation inevitably shifted toward romance.

As it always did.

"That remains one of society’s greatest mysteries."

"Which one?"

"Why His Grace is still unmarried."

More laughter.

Several ladies immediately offered theories.

Marian discovered that noblewomen possessed an astonishing number of opinions regarding Cassian Ashford’s love life.

Most of them contradictory.

Some believed he was simply too busy.

Others insisted he was impossibly selective.

One woman claimed he had secretly fallen in love years ago.

Another dismissed the theory entirely.

Marian listened.

Far more attentively than she should have.

Then, before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"Has he ever been seriously attached to anyone?"

Silence.

Every woman at the table looked at her.

Marian immediately regretted opening her mouth.

Deeply.

Profoundly.

Perhaps permanently.

One older countess smiled.

Slowly.

Far too knowingly.

Marian resisted the urge to disappear.

"What an interesting question, Lady Marian."

Oh no.

The countess knew.

Not everything.

But enough.

Marian could tell.

The realization was horrifying.

Fortunately another woman answered before the conversation became fatal.

"Not publicly."

Marian blinked.

The answer wasn’t what she expected.

Not yes.

Not no.

Just enough ambiguity to be dangerous.

"What does that mean?"

The question escaped before she could stop it.

The countess’s smile widened.

Marian considered jumping through a window.

"It means," another lady said kindly, "that if His Grace ever cared deeply for someone, he kept it private."

Several women nodded.

"There were certainly rumors."

"Many rumors."

"Mostly invented."

More laughter followed.

Marian felt oddly relieved.

Then confused by her own relief.

Which was even worse.

The countess took a sip of tea.

Then said thoughtfully:

"The interesting thing isn’t that women pursued His Grace."

The room quieted.

Because everyone knew that part.

"The interesting thing is that nobody remembers His Grace pursuing anyone."

Silence followed.

A thoughtful silence.

Marian stared at her teacup.

Because that observation stayed with her.

Women had wanted Cassian.

That wasn’t surprising.

Anyone with functioning eyesight could understand why.

Yet somehow, despite all the attention.

Despite all the opportunities.

Despite all the years.

Nobody could name a woman he had chosen.

Not one.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, that thought lingered.

Long after the conversation moved elsewhere.

Long after the tea cooled.

Long after the gossip shifted to entirely different topics.

Because Marian found herself wondering something she had never asked before.

Not because the novel hadn’t answered it.

Because she had never cared enough to ask.

Why?

Why had there never been anyone?

And if there hadn’t been anyone before...

Why her?

Outside, horses were being prepared.

The hunting party gathered near the stables.

Servants moved efficiently through the courtyard.

Nobles adjusted gloves, saddles, and riding cloaks.

Cassian mounted his horse.

His thoughts were elsewhere.

An increasingly common problem.

He had barely settled into the saddle when a familiar voice called out.

"Cassian."

Not "Your Grace."

Not "Duke Ashford."

Simply Cassian.

Cassian looked up.

Adrian guided his horse forward.

For a brief moment, neither spoke.

Then Adrian nodded toward the forest trails.

"Ride with me."

The request was casual.

Natural.

The sort of request made between cousins who had known each other all their lives.

Yet something tightened unexpectedly inside Cassian’s chest.

Because for the first time since Marian’s question, he found himself facing the one man whose answer mattered almost as much as his own.

Cassian held Adrian’s gaze for a moment.

Then nodded.

"Of course."

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