“…is quite interesting. Do you use this kind of charm offensive on pirates as well?”

The bold question sent a deep flicker of interest through Cassian’s eyes. He curved his lips into an easy arc and replied with unhurried calm.

“Let me think. If I had to say, it was generally much faster to kill them before they could identify my face.”

It was a far too blunt choice of words for a lady’s company, but Wilhelmina burst into a sharp laugh rather than a scream.

The waltz was racing toward its end. In time with the fading melody, the two of them stepped slowly through a semicircle around each other.

Their eyes met. Cassian spoke.

“Now then. Will you let me sign your bill?”

“You change your mind rather easily, it seems.”

“Change isn’t quite the right word. As you yourself said, I simply needed a little… confirmation that you could carry out your role. That’s all.”

“Then let’s say you’re ‘someone who changes his mind rather easily.’ But…”

Closing the distance slowly one last time, Wilhelmina whispered to him.

“…think carefully. The bill I presented a few days ago, the one Your Highness kicked aside to test it, was it really the kind of cheap thing that could simply be picked up off the floor again at any time?”

For just an instant, almost imperceptibly, Cassian’s movement stilled. Wilhelmina wore the smile her brothers called demonic and despised with every fiber of their being.

“Let me be clear…”

Cassian opened his mouth slowly.

“I am not someone who concedes defeat easily, Miss Priestley.”

“Of course not.”

Wilhelmina agreed readily.

“Though you did admit defeat to me five minutes ago, that sort of thing doesn’t happen easily. Isn’t that right?”

“Certainly not.”

“Yet not everything rare is a jewel.”

Wilhelmina recited in a clear, ringing voice.

“Consider this as well. How much is Your Highness’s declaration of surrender actually worth to me?”

“Ah…”

With Cassian’s slow, drawn-out sound of realization, the music began to fade. The couples on the floor started finishing the final steps of the dance, bowing politely to their partners.

“And let me say one thing as well.”

Wilhelmina whispered quickly. Her cheeks were unavoidably flushed from navigating both conversation and dancing at once, but the smile on her lips looked more alive than anyone else’s in the room.

“Not one man who knelt before me ever got what he wanted.”

The music stopped completely the moment she finished speaking.

The people who finished dancing first began stealing glances at the two of them, but neither paid it any mind.

“Then what is it that you want?”

With the question, Cassian tightened his grip on her hand with quiet pressure. Like the instinctive movement of a predator cutting off its prey’s escape.

But Wilhelmina was not afraid. She leaned toward Cassian, almost tipping forward, and whispered.

“I suppose we’ll have to take our time finding that out, won’t we?”

The scent of orange blossom drew close, then drifted away again. Wilhelmina wore that smile of hers.

“I promise it will be quite enjoyable. You may look forward to it.”

The silver-grey eyes looking down at that bold declaration grew deep and still.

Like the clear facets of a gem catching light from every angle, scattering fragments of brilliance in all directions, that face…

‘Like a box of chocolates.’

Various soft and sweet things nestled in a divided little box. The kind where you’re lured in by a particularly sweet-seeming piece, take a bite, and find yourself spitting out something sharp and strong.

If he told her he enjoyed the fleeting moment of rolling such things around on his tongue, would she understand? That it was a warning?

It was impossible to say. Cassian smiled in silence. He was not a kind-natured man, and therefore he had no intention of offering even a warning.

Chapter 2: A Shameless Farce

The following morning, at the drawing room of Priestley Manor.

The atmosphere of this household was not, even in the most generous terms, the sort one could call refined or peaceful under ordinary circumstances, but this particular morning had an unusually disruptive quality about it.

At the center of the disruption was a gossip column distributed across all of Winstor in the early hours of that morning.

‘Shocking true story! Was the W lady’s ferryman who shook society a Royal Admiral?’

A sensational and scandalous headline, faithful to the gossip column’s calling in every sense.

Thanks to it, the esteemed Duke Priestley Benjamin, having cast aside every shred of a great noble’s dignity and the decorum of a head of household, was stretched out full-length across the sofa producing pained sounds.

Angeline carefully placed a cool ice pack, received from the butler, on his forehead, but Benjamin managed only a pitiful “ugh” and could not form a single coherent sentence.

In the midst of that deeply distressing scene, Francesca spoke with an unlit pipe dangling crookedly from her lips.

“So. Whose skull exactly am I supposed to blow off? The ferryman’s, or the d*mn admiral’s?”

“Neither skull!”

Benjamin, who moments ago appeared to be at death’s door, flung the ice pack off his forehead and sat bolt upright.

“Francesca! If you bring up that hunting rifle in front of me one more time, I will permanently ban you and your entire family from the hunting grounds this season!”

Under the fierce rebuke, Francesca only chewed on her pipe and muttered darkly.

“So it’s the Duke of Priestley’s skull, then.”

“Everyone, please calm down.”

The one who stepped in to calm the room was Wilhelmina Priestley, the very source of the chaos.

She appeared in a perfectly pressed morning dress, her expression as unruffled as ever.

As though this ridiculous commotion had absolutely nothing to do with her, she spoke.

“The way you’re all reacting, it’s as though I’ve done something truly terrible.”

“Wilhelmina Priestley!”

Benjamin looked like a man on the verge of foaming at the mouth.

“How could this not be something terrible! Tell me right now exactly what you were scheming at that ballroom last night, and before that, in places beyond my sight!”

“Scheming?”

Wilhelmina raised an eyebrow and replied.

“I simply helped someone who looked to be in difficulty.”

“Ha!”

Benjamin let out a loud, cutting scoff. He jabbed a finger at his shameless younger sister and demanded.

“Since when have you ever shown such charity and generosity to another person! If even a shred of that admirable virtue existed in you, you might have shown some of it to your poor brother during his years of suffering as an unmarried man!”

It was a sharp remark, exactly as one would expect from a brother who knew his sister’s ruthlessly practical nature better than anyone. But Wilhelmina didn’t bat an eye and simply pretended not to hear.

“In any case, there is no need to worry about this matter. I will handle everything myself.”

“Oh God Almighty.”

Benjamin let out a groan of deep despair, like a man facing the most dreadful catastrophe of his life.

“Don’t be like that, darling.”

Angeline stroked her husband’s shoulder, prickly as a hedgehog, and offered gentle comfort.

“The young lady must have her own thoughts on the matter.”

“That’s precisely the problem, Angie.”

Benjamin appealed in anguish.

“Mina is better off without thoughts altogether. If that were the case, the amount of damage control I’d have to do as head of this family would be cut in half exactly.”

“Since you say you’ll handle it yourself, let me ask just one thing.”

Francesca, who had been leaning against the sofa observing the situation, opened her mouth at a leisurely pace.

“Let’s hear what solution you have in mind.”

“It’s every bit as elegant and direct as a shotgun.”

Wilhelmina’s hazel eyes lit up as she grinned.

“I’ve arranged to meet with him directly this afternoon and settle things.”

“Right, fine.”

Benjamin said in a voice of complete surrender.

“Fran, would you mind shooting me in the head with that gun of yours? I think that’s probably the fastest solution at this point.”