Cassius frowned in disappointment at the chessboard that his opponent had abandoned. Four more moves, six, if his opponent was clever- which his cousin Gregory was decidedly not- and he would have won. There was a din and clatter of young boys playing outside, making Cassius grimace. Whatever activity it was, Gregory had abandoned their chess match in favor of it.

Cassius despised house parties. So many people invading his space, making inane conversation, expecting him to act the polite host and entertain the rest of the children. If it had been up to Cassius, he'd sit indoors all day with a good book instead of being forced to socialize.

After playing the part of the good host, Cassius was exhausted. Sometimes it felt like he had a certain capacity of energy within him to speak with people he barely knew, and once it was depleted he felt physically tired, even though he had not done any great physical labor. The lack of privacy also meant that he could not have any solitary time, which meant the exhaustion would not go away. All he wanted was one person who would indulge him in a game of chess, and now he didn't have that.

He could always play with himself, but where was the fun in that? The real triumph lay in analyzing your opponent, trying to figure out the probability of what moves they would make, strategizing on how to retaliate. Now that was a mental labor that Cassius did not mind.

The door creaked open gently, taking Cassius' attention away from the board on the table. A head of midnight dark hair peeked in, then followed a pair of bashful eyes, and then a button nose.

"Hello, My Lord," Lady Daphne beamed at him, clearly quite pleased to have found him alone. Cassius smiled at her in return and nodded at her to come in. When he had been complaining of company, he had not meant the ten-year-old girl who had somehow become his friend. She had taken quite a shine to him ever since the awful incident two years ago, following him around, paying him special attention. She saw him as a protective older brother, he supposed, one that she could lave her adoration upon. He in turn treated her similarly, enjoying the companionship for he had no siblings of his own. He bought her sweets, brought back gifts from her when he came down from school, and indulged her in games on occasion.

His father liked to call her "Cassius' little admirer" for how she stuck to him and gave him little gifts like flowers or sweets that were meant to be her own.

"How are you, Daphne?"

"I am well," she came forth, her hands held a handkerchief folded around something. "They allowed us to have tea with the adults today. You didn't come. They had lemon tartlets, your favorite."

"I was playing," he pointed to his board.

"With Gregory?" She crinkled her nose in distaste and Cassius let out a sharp bark of laughter. Even the wee creature knew his cousin was not the sharpest tool in the shed.

"It was not the most stimulating of games, I grant you," he conceded with a chuckle. "I heartily regret missing the tartlets."

"It's alright," she unfolded the handkerchief to reveal what had once been a tartlet but now was just a bunch of crumbs with custard splattered everywhere. "I saved you some....oh."

She looked so very crestfallen that he took the handkerchief, scooped the mush up with his fingers, and ate the sticky, crumby custard. Her eyes lit up in delight and she dutifully reached into her other pocket and pulled out another, clean handkerchief for him to wipe his hands with.

"It was delicious, thank you for thinking of me, little one," he gave her head a fond pat and gestured for her to sit on the seat across from him. "Have you been doing any better with your sums?"

The last time he had seen her only a month ago, she had regaled him with a long-winded, passionate rant about how much she hated mathematics. Cassius had then spared some time to help her with the thing she was struggling with.

"Not really," she pouted at him. "I make fewer mistakes but still, I hate doing them."

"Well, I told you that you would need practice. How else are you going to get better?" He scolded her gently, her stern tone earning a petulant frown.

"Do you want someone to play with you?" She deftly changed the subject, leaning forward to observe the pieces on the board. "Chess is much more fun than sums."

"Do you know how to play?" Cassius raised a dubious eyebrow which earned him an irritated huff. If there was anything Miss Daphne did not like, it was being told something was outside her ability.

"Obviously," she declared proudly, reaching over the board. "The horsey moves like an L, the roundy one moves one step, the pointy one moves diagonally...."

She prattled on, giving him not an altogether inaccurate summation of the moves, much to his surprise. A proud smile pulled at his mouth as she showed him how each piece moved.

"And just how does one win, little one?" He asked in amusement once she had finished graciously teaching him.

"You kill all your enemies!" She declared gravely causing him to burst out laughing. "And make it to the other end of the board the fastest!"

"Close, but not quite," he shook his head, his mood already much improved. "You have to capture your opponent's King piece."

"King piece?"

"The crossy one," he explained, nodding to the aforementioned piece. "Shall I teach you to play, Daphne? I daresay you would be a remarkable improvement on Gregory's company in any case."

"Oh yes, My Lord," she said, her eyes shining with glee. "I would love nothing more."

When Cassius left the library for dinner, he had been in remarkable spirits. Perhaps it was strange for a young man of seventeen to consider a ten year old girl to be his friend, but something about Daphne's sincerity and friendliness made him feel as if there was someone in this world that cared for him. Not because he was good at studies, or because he was the heir to an Earldom, but just because he was.....himself.

At home, it sometimes felt as if no one cared whether he was present or not. His father's moods were......usually melancholy. He barely knew anything outside of his blind love for Cassius' mother, and his inevitable heartbreak when he learned of her newest lover.

And his mother...... well, to her credit, his mother tried to engage with him. Cassius found it impossible to be anything but coldly polite to her, all while his private hatred for her burned bright as always. He found her despicable.

Did she not care that she dragged his family's name through the mud time and again with her antics? Did she not care that her husband was ridiculed in their circles for being a desperate cuckold? Did she know that some boys at university wondered whether he was a bastard, unfairly inheriting his title? That they called him son of a whore, elevated to lordship? Oftentimes to his face?

No, he could not bring himself to spend too much time with her. If he did, he was certain he would say things a young gentleman would never dare speak to his mother.

"Cassius, my darling, how are you?" Her voice trilled and it grated on his very nerves. The very sight of her threatened to ruin his mood. His father stood beside her, welcoming their guests to the dining room but he may as well have been a fly on the wall for all that his mother paid him attention. "I missed you at breakfast today and you didn't join us for tea, darling."

It was pathetic, the way his father was basically a slave at her feet. Waiting eagerly for her to stomp all over him.

There had been a time when he was younger that he had found his father on his knees begging her not to leave him. Weeping at her feet.

And still, she had not cared. Still, she had declared that she had provided him and heir and done her duty, and that she need not be encumbered by a husband any longer.

Sometimes, Cassius wished that the Earl would just divorce her. Could the scandal of that be worse than the humiliation she subjected them to time and again?

Cassius saw one of their guests drop an inappropriately long kiss on his mother's cheek and his own stomach turned. She giggled and batted her eyelashes at him, shooting him a wink while his father was speaking to another guest. Cassius suddenly did not feel hungry at all. He murmured some excuses and made his way out into the garden, hoping the scent of the freshly planted jasmine would help him calm down.

He just could not understand how she could be so singularly selfish as to do this. Under her husband's roof. In front of her own son. Did she not realize what people truly thought of her? Of them? How could she stand to hurt his father again and again like this?

"Lord Cassius?" The gentle voice had him spinning around. Daphne stood there in her night clothes, a small robe fastened over them.

"Daphne, it is late. Why are you here?"

"I saw you from the window. You looked sad," she ventured closer, sitting on a bench, patting the space beside her.

"I was sad. Just a little," he sighed and dropped into the seat behind her.

"Can I help you?" She asked sweetly. "Would you like some sweets? I have them in my room."

"Ah, no, poppet. I don't think I care for sweets just now. Nothing you can help me with, but thank you for asking. You are a very good friend."

"Would you like to hold my hand?" She offered him the appendage, palm upwards. "When I am sad, my mama holds my hand and I feel better almost instantly. She says that she will lend me some of her happiness so that I feel less sad. Shall I lend you some of my happiness?"

Cassius placed his hand in hers and he felt the little fingers squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"And what has made you happy today, Daphne?"

"Well, I wore a new dress today and it was ever so pretty. Then Papa got me a new ribbon to match with it. Then I had tea with all the ladies, and ate many many pastries. And I learned to play chess with my dearest friend. So as you can see, I have a lot of happiness that I can share with you."

Cassius could not help the smile that broke across his face. Her pleasures were so small and simple, and the kind little thing she was wanted to offer him some of her happiness. He could not ever remember life being so uncomplicated.

He felt oddly touched.

"Why, thank you, Daphne," he said through an odd lump in his throat. "I feel much improved already."