CCP Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It was precisely to avoid the disgraceful misunderstanding that an unmarried man and woman had met privately for a tryst at such a late hour.

That he had managed to completely forget the presence of such a person, even for a moment, was honestly rather bewildering to Cassian.

It was almost undeniable proof of just how deeply he had become absorbed in his conversation with Wilhelmina.

“Oh, dear. Just look at this poor teacup.”

Completely oblivious to whatever troubles his nephew might have been contemplating, Count Mortimer was far more preoccupied with mourning the broken teacup.

“Anyway, I’m against it, Cassian.”

“What exactly are you referring to?”

“Don’t play dumb! Obviously, I mean the marriage that young lady proposed.”

“Well…”

Cassian answered evasively.

“To be precise, it was a ‘contract with marriage as its eventual objective.’”

“I’m not saying I believe the rumors printed in the gossip papers. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m blindly believing that young lady’s claim that Kingsley was the one who spread them, either. I’m merely saying that there is absolutely no way some boatman could possibly have been bold enough to fall in love with a terrifying young lady like that in the first place.”

“Hmm. Terrifying?”

“Yes. And judging from the things she says and does—”

As he spoke, Count Mortimer cast another furtive glance toward the closed door.
He looked distinctly worried that the terrifying young lady might suddenly burst back in.

“…she is definitely a little crazy.”

He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Actually, she might be more than a little crazy.”

Cassian’s expression, which had begun to relax somewhat at his uncle’s comical behavior, instantly turned serious.

A little crazy?

As far as he could remember, his uncle had used that particular expression exactly twice before.

The first time had been when he was referring to Cassian’s mother, who had decided to set sail.

The second had been when he was referring to Cassian himself, when he had decided to go to war.

…Both of them had gone on to achieve extraordinary success on the paths they had chosen, earning a reputation for being exceptional in their respective fields.

And the third is…

That Wilhelmina Priestley woman?

Cassian’s gaze settled on the closed door.
The woman who had confidently walked through that door moments ago had made him a promise.

She had sworn that he would inevitably come to need her, and that by the time he realized it, he would have to pay a far greater price.

A greater price, was it?

Cassian had first gone to sea as a soldier at the age of sixteen.

From then until he turned twenty-seven, he had spent nearly half his life sending one pirate and raider after another to a watery grave.

And yet this woman had not only dared to present him with a bill, but had even confidently guaranteed that the amount would be astronomical.

Cassian laughed soundlessly.

An ordinary man might have taken such a vicious warning as an insult.

Unfortunately, Cassian himself was one of the madmen his uncle had acknowledged as such.

And at present, he was also one of the wealthiest men in the entire kingdom.

He was not exactly an evil man, but neither was he a saint capable of turning a blind eye to the treasure aboard the ships of pirates he had sent to the bottom of the sea.

There was no price he could not pay.
If anything, finding a bill grand enough to truly cause him financial pain would be the difficult part.

So, in truth, the real problem is…

It was probably himself.

The moment that audacious woman had announced the price of the bill she intended to present him with later, he had found himself feeling an almost eager impulse to sign a blank check on the spot.

Not that it particularly mattered.

In truth, Wilhelmina’s reputation in Winster high society had hardly been good even before this incident.

The words eccentric, odd, and unusual were practically permanent fixtures before her name.

“Let’s just make one thing clear.”

The man who had contributed no small amount to that reputation was none other than Nate Ashton.

A handsome young man with black hair and amber eyes that lent him an exotic yet dangerous air, Nate was both the son of one of the wealthiest men in Winster and Wilhelmina’s longtime childhood friend.

“What you did last night was completely and utterly insane, Mina. There isn’t even the slightest hope of defending it.”

It was a leisurely afternoon, the thick fog of the previous night having long since lifted.

The setting was the lavish greenhouse of the Ashton estate, located in the heart of Belgrace.

The timing was shortly after Wilhelmina had confessed every last detail of the insane stunt she had pulled the night before, without leaving out so much as a single word.

“Quite the scathing assessment.”

“Normally, that’s what people call stating the facts.”

His tone carried a sharp edge, but Wilhelmina paid it no mind.

Considering the stunt she had pulled yesterday, this reaction was actually quite mild.

Had it been anyone else—particularly a certain duke—he would probably have screamed the moment he heard her reckless adventure, as though he were on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Fortunately, Nate was not that sort of loud, emotional man.

More importantly, he was a living witness who had spent years observing, from close range, the utterly unreasonable streak that ran through the Priestley bloodline from generation to generation.

“The state funeral was barely three weeks ago. The national mourning period only ended three days ago. People are already saying you should be punished for sacrilege for stirring up a scandal in the middle of all this, and you still went somewhere? In the middle of the night?”

The fact that even Nate could not conceal his agitation over the matter was indirect proof of just how serious the situation was.
“I didn’t have any other choice.”

Wilhelmina pouted and muttered the words.

Nate watched her silently for a moment, giving her a sidelong look.

A sudden silence descended.

Inside the greenhouse, the fresh scents exuded by all manner of exotic and rare plants mingled with the rich fragrance of tea.

In that peaceful glasshouse, the only sound that occasionally broke the silence was the chirping of birds allowed to roam freely.

Amid that almost absurdly tranquil stillness, Nate finally asked,

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to marry me?”

“Oh my.”

Wilhelmina widened her eyes innocently.

“You make such an outrageously unexpected proposal with such a straight face. Surely I didn’t mishear you when you said you wanted to take a stroll down Gloria Green with me later?”

“I’m not joking, Mina.”

“Neither am I. I’m not marrying you.”

“Oh?”

A languid smile spread across Nate’s lips.

“Why not?”

Wilhelmina silently met her friend’s amber gaze before letting out a small sigh.

“I know very well that you care about me, Nate.”

“Exactly. So why not?”

Nate calmly acknowledged it, despite the sort of statement that might have made other men uncomfortable.

He was not burdened with the sort of petty, rigid masculinity that considered openly expressing the gentle affection of friendship to be shameful.

At the same time, he was the kind of man who would willingly become her husband on paper without a second thought rather than stand by and watch the honor of his childhood friend—and his only friend—be dragged toward the chopping block.

“I understand. If our positions were reversed, I probably would have made the same proposal.”

Wilhelmina still could not bring herself to accept such a devoted offer without hesitation.

“But I’ll pass. I don’t want to interfere with my friend’s love.”

“Sabina will understand.”

“I know. So don’t waste that generous understanding of hers on something as trivial as this.”

At her clean refusal, Nate seemed to ponder the matter for a moment before casually shrugging his shoulders.

“Fair enough. Even if I did marry you, it would still be troublesome when all I have to offer is money.”

The Ashton family occupied a rather ambiguous and uncomfortable position in the notoriously hypocritical society of Winster.

The Ashtons were, without question, among the wealthiest families in all of Brighton.

And unlike the traditional wealth represented by castles and estates, theirs was the kind of immense fortune built upon tangible commercial assets: factories and ships.

Nate lazily laced his fingers behind his head and muttered,

“I suppose there must be someone who doesn’t know how my grandfather, who was most certainly a commoner at birth, managed to get his name into Brighton’s aristocratic register.”

Nate’s grandfather had married the daughter of a fallen baronet in order to rid himself of the stigma of being a wealthy commoner.

People were fond of mocking the marriage, saying that he had effectively bought himself a place among the nobility.

The general consensus among the aristocracy was that a title could be purchased in such a manner, but blood could not be changed.

Even people who had their debts forgiven thanks to the Ashton family’s generosity would whisper behind their backs that they were nothing more than

“a merchant bloodline reeking of silver coins and coal.”

That, in itself, said everything.

Wilhelmina snorted.