THE SABLE SPY | ELEVEN

THE DINNER PARTY WAS BORING. Really boring. Cass had never thrived in events like these, but she always made do. She had been born for balls, after all, and a life of pampered existence even as the daughter of the youngest son of a youngest son. Her family had been that powerful. Her great-aunt's influence had been great enough to ensure that. Marcus and Laurence were busy keeping an eye on the suspicious figures— Ned, for starters, and Cass had been instructed to follow in their steps. Instead, she was stuck talking to a boring comte about the latest ton fashion. He had impeccable tastes, yes, but Cass could think of a thousand better ways to spend her time.

  But she endured. She always did. Somehow, Cassalyn Diao always seemed to survive even when all the odds were stacked against her. It was pure, dumb luck, easy and simple.

  The dining hall was elaborately decorated. Overdecorated, really, with its gilded tables and chairs, the golden tassels of the curtains and the overlit candles. You could taste the Norwoods' desperation for approval and praise the moment you stepped foot within the room. They were one of the newer families, and didn't fully fit in. Their host would only be the first Baron Norwood. He'd be seeking the acceptance of the rest of the ton. So far, it seemed to be working. Everyone seemed duly impressed with the over splendor of the dining room.

  Marcus was on her other side. Technically speaking, her status was low enough that she should be placed somewhere down the table. But the Arecians always loved an enigma and a challenge, and her friendship with two of the most eligible bachelors of the ton earned her a better spot.

  Ned and Francis, though, did not share the same reputation. They were seen as mostly ordinary folks. Since Francis was married and Ned a generally reclusive figure, both of them weren't in popular demand. They sat far down the table. Marcus and Laurence watched them without watching them at all, while Cass decided to keep an eye on everyone else instead. Just in case.

  Tonight, she wore a loose-fitting white gown. Debutante white. It was ironic, really. It was one of her sister's newer ones. Since Cirinique was only eighteen, she could naturally wear the gown. On Cass, who was twenty-two and considered much more worldly, the shade and garment seemed strange. Hence why she had topped it off with a necklace of dazzling sapphire Lady Rochesdale had lent her.

  "How long would you be staying in Arecia, Miss Diao?" The comte was asking. He was from the same place as Cadieux. Epimur, just a short ship ride away. Unlike Cadieux, his accent was clearly foreign, and he dressed with flamboyance. Once upon a time, Cadieux had been one of them, from what Cass had managed to discern about her mentor's mysterious past. But a cruel switch of fate had landed him penniless in Arecia with a family to feed. Hence his decades-long employment under Arecian Secret Services.

  "Much as this visit was unplanned, I am not sure, monsieur," she replied, keeping her voice soft and demure. "It could be anything from a few weeks to a few months, though I'd try not to intrude upon her ladyship's kind hospitality. I assume two to three weeks more. I have business here to complete."

  "What kind?" The comte asked, curiosity written all over his face.

  Cass let that little mysterious smile that drove the ton wild onto her face. "The personal kind, monsieur. Why so curious?"

  "Could you blame me, mademoiselle?" He replied, cutting his steak. "The English ton grows ever more boring," he pulled a face, "and it is rare for a figure such as you to swing by. You could say I am hunting for drama."

  "A figure such as me?"

  He waved his hand in the air. "You are not a debutante or even hunting for a husband in the slightest from what anyone can see, and are friends with two of the most eligible bachelors within Arecia. You travel around the world alone and are said to be the Duchess of Dai's favourite descendant! You do know the Duchess is legendary? You, mademoiselle, are a celebrity."

  "I'm sure she'd be glad to hear herself being spoken so highly of. She has been nothing but kind to me and my sister."

  "Oho! Yes, your sister too! I have not had the pleasure of meeting her, but I hear she is very popular. Considered a Diamond of the First Water, yes?"

  "As much as a foreigner like us could be considered one, yes." A little shrug. "I'm afraid I have none of my sister's social grace or charming disposition. She is the better of the two of us." Self-depreciation. The ton would not enjoy arrogance and pride in her, as not only someone of low rank and also of foreign birth.

  The comte made a tut-tut sound. "Nonsense! Nonsense! You are perfectly alright, Miss Diao. The most invigorating conversation partner indeed!"

  Cass did not consider the conversation invigorating at all, but she simply murmured something that seemed to convey her agreements and thanks without actually saying it and turned to Marcus with an inquisitorial glance.

  He was staring at her, she realised, with an indecipherable expression. Sufficiently annoyed, she said, "Are you not supposed to be watching someone that isn't me?"

  Marcus gave a one-shoulder shrug, a small smile spreading on his face. "I like looking at you. And I'm sure Laurence can manage for a little while." When Cass's eyes landed on Laurence conversing with a young debutante sitting between the two, practically blushing with excitement, he added, "And it's not as if our guest is going to slip away just because we looked away for one moment."

  "He's not behaving himself."

  "He's known for being a rake and a rogue. It would be considered inappropriate if he behaves himself. Let him be." Marcus rolled his eyes. "Are you enjoying yourself, my dear Miss Diao?"

  "As much as one could be at a dinner like this," she muttered darkly.

  Marcus's reply was a chuckle. "Dreadful bore if you ask me. Nothing interesting or scandalous has happened. No wonder my parents didn't even bother attending."

  Lord and Lady Rochesdale had been uncommonly kind to her, treating her like their own daughter. No doubt they wanted to push a match between the two. The odds were stacked against her. She needed to finish this case soon and fast, and head off, before her heart overpowered her brain and she made the same mistakes of her youth.

  Why was it that she didn't want to go back to before again?

  Ah, right. Because the last time something like this happened, she ended up with a broken heart shattered in far too many places and running off to catch the quickest ship to Asayama in the middle of the night. Sure that her best friend and lover hated her for deceiving him. No. Marcus would demand complete transparency and honesty, especially if she became his wife, and it was something Cass simply couldn't give. She had never worked best in a team. She hated explaining herself to anyone. She didn't know what Ciri did half the time and Ciri didn't know what she did. That was how she always operated.

  And her, as someone's wife? It would never happen. Her matchmaking family and Marcus would all realise how unsuitable for the role she was soon enough, and they'd stop bothering her. Cassalyn Diao was a ship without an anchor, an island that had not taken roots. She would never be able to stay in one place for long. It was not in her blood.

  "At least the food is good," she said with a shrug. "I'm assuming, at least, that's why most people showed up. I taste Epimur in this. An Epimurean cook, did the Norwoods hire?"

  "Definitely. Tastes just like the cuisine there. Look, your cousins are very much enjoying themselves."

  Cass tilted her head slightly so that she could see Ned and Francis in her peripheral vision, both of whom were happily chomping down on their food. "We have an excellent Epimurean cook back in Asayama. A Saian one too, of course. They take turns."

  "Maybe I should visit someday."

  She wasn't sure how to respond. It was one of those sentences that sounded as if he was suggesting something more, but also could simply be innocent. So she didn't, turning her head back down to her food. Marcus's lips quirked upwards. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

  Her eyes were bored when she replied, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

  "I'm sure you don't." A soft sigh. "Are you going to tell me why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Why you won't let me court and woo you?"

  Cass's eyes darted around to ensure no one had heard. No one had. Her eyes, now furious, landed back on him, a warning glance before he prodded too far. "We should discuss this when we're alone."

  "You won't let me get you alone, Cassie."

  "I recall we're meant to be stalking a certain cousin of mine across the city later, Dalton. Just the two of us. I'd consider that alone." Her eyes had narrowed.

  Marcus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you were the one who always liked to keep personal problems out of business? Are you encouraging the opposite? I'm shocked, Miss Diao. I'm sure Laurence would be too if he wasn't too busy scandalising some poor chit." That caused them both to glance in his direction again. Laurence noticed and returned with a cheeky grin. "But no one can hear you right now, and I'm quite certain the job requires absolute silence. Also, you promised me I wouldn't even know you were there."

  She remained silent, which seemed to be her preferred way of any matter involving Marcus. Perhaps it made her a coward. She didn't quite care, to be honest, though the thought did make her a bit uncomfortable. Cass was never quite often the coward in every situation. Great-aunt Vinelle had once pointed out that her greatest strength and weakness was her bravery, her foolhardiness. She was fearless, working as if she had nothing to lose.

  "You're scared I'll do what I did last time. I was eighteen and an idiot, Cass. And I know what you're capable of. I still want you. I don't care."

  "That's not—"

  "You were right. I was dumb. I let my feelings blind my eyes, and I felt betrayed and felt you abused that trust even though you had never promised me anything. I'm sorry. I apologise. You're scared of being hurt. That's why you don't form attachments. That's why you never came around. You're devoted to your family. You want them to finally go home, but that's not your home, is it? You're always the one making the sacrifice. Protecting Ciri, protecting your family, protecting the bloody world. Stop looking around you and look inside for once."

  "Marcus—"

  "What was it you told me once when you were younger? That anywhere Laurence and I were was your home? Has that changed?"

  "I told you that when I was fourteen and lonely. It does not reflect what I believe now. The only reason I do not have a home is because I am too devoted to my work. I enjoy it. Stop assuming things about me."

  "You're devoted to your work because it helps you forget how bloody lonely you are, Cass. With the exception of a sister who likes to mysteriously vanish and an eccentric, invalid great-aunt an ocean away, you have no one. You had me and Laurence but you push us away because you're scared I'll hurt you again. I never took you as a coward."

  "You did not hurt me." But her protest sounded weak even to her own ears.

  "Who's lying now? Just give me a chance."

  "I vividly recall you telling me that you would attempt wooing me with or without my permission, Marcus."

  "Actually listen to me instead of pushing me away. Let me get you alone. Let me talk to you. Please."

  "We will discuss this later," she said firmly, looking away, mouth set in a frown. "In private."

  "I'll be heading to your room tonight. I'm staying in my parent's house."

  "That would not be proper." But she didn't say no. They needed to have this conversation sooner or later, and she did not feel like being the coward much longer. If he wanted to talk, they could talk. She would carefully lay down all her reasons and leave him to understand her choice. Then they could continue on with this mission and say their farewells like proper adults, with no more lingering regrets.

  "I'll be discreet. We've done worse."

  "As children," she muttered, exasperated. "We are both adults now. It is different, Lord Farnsworth, as I'm sure you understand. We are no longer sheltered by the innocence and excuses of our childhood. It is rather unfortunate."

  "I still share the same mindset and consider you the same way," a carefree shrug, "and stop clutching your wounded arm before I force you out of tonight's mission. You're being uncareful. Are you sure you're up for the task?"

  "Almost certainly. I can handle a bit of pain, my lord. Do recall the time I got shot."

  A sad smile danced on his lips. "I thought I'd lost you. That was three months before I caught you that night."

  "Yes. But I survived. If I could manage a bullet to the arm, I can manage a knife slash as well. Stop worrying. And go talk to the debutante next to you. Laurence has abandoned her for a stimulating conversation with a young, merry widow."

  Marcus snorted, watching Laurence flirt with said woman. "He never learns, does he?"

  "He is young."

  "He's older than you," he pointed out. At that moment, a footman walked by to collect Marcus's empty dish and replace it with a new one, so the two fell into a silence until the man was out of earshot.

  Once that happened, she replied, "Hence, young. All three of us are barely hatched fledglings, Lord Farnsworth, with a long path to walk ahead of us."

  "And tell me, Miss Diao. Do our paths cross and intertwine, or are we cursed to walk parallel forever after?"

  And once again, he twisted the conversation back to her refusal to properly accept him back in her life. It was getting immensely irritating at this point, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him. Instead, she placed a small bite of steak into her mouth, finished chewing, and told him, "I am not a seer, my lord, despite common belief. If I have my way? We shall never cross paths again."

  "Good thing you're not going to have your way," Marcus responded, his voice cool, annoyance prickling in his tone. That was not her intention.

  "Do not be overconfident."

  "Don't be irrational," he shot back, though his expression was still deceptively placid. It was a skill they shared. Anyone else might think they were having a calm, civil conversation. "At least give me a chance, Cass."

  "Is that not what I am doing now? It is not my fault you are so bad at making your case," she huffed, placing down her cutlery and fork, levelling a stern glare in his direction.

  "If it's charisma you're seeking, go to Dumont or your sister. God knows I haven't any to spare."

  "Should you not be keeping an eye on Ned?" She asked, sucking in a quiet breath, exhausted from arguing. "Rather than quarrelling with me over pointless, unimportant matters?"

  Marcus barked a laugh, earning them a few glances. A small smile from Cass sent their heads back in the correct direction. Laurence studied them, his expression unreadable. Him, she levelled a glare at. He smirked and returned to talking with his neighbours, ever the darling.

  "Don't think we won't be having this conversation soon."

  This time, Cass couldn't stop her eyes from tilting heavenward. "I believe I've already begrudgingly agreed to a midnight rendezvous, my lord," she drawled softly. "May we hope that is the last conversation on this topic."

  "Yes," he murmured, so softly she wouldn't have heard if she hadn't been keeping such a careful eye and ear on him. "Let's hope."