//CLARA//
"Would you mind telling what the hell happened?"
Casimir’s voice was a dangerous rumble that seed to vibrate the floorboards of the study.
He didn’t look like he’d just co ho from a journey. He looked like he’d marched straight into hell, decided it wasn’t hot enough, and clawed his way back out just to burn this house to the ground.
God, he was massive. The rugged, unkempt beard and the thick layer of trail dust clinging to his coat made him look broader, heavier than the polished, untouchable man who’d walked away from . He consud the entire study. He looked lethal.
Across from him, Aunt Cornelia was a statue of spite. She sat rigid, her spine a straight line of pure arrogance, her chin tilted at that sharp, defiant angle she used when she was ready to draw blood.
"We had been given false hope, Casimir. The Prince was never after Eleanor’s hand. He rely wanted her friendship. Can you imagine? After all the labor I went through... all we got was friendship."
"He’s gone to war, Aunt Cornelia," I snapped, my voice still hoarse from crying.
Casimir’s eyes flickered to mine, narrowing until they were just silver slits. "War?"
"Yes, war," Aunt Cornelia scoffed, as if it was the most absurd thing she heard. "He shouldn’t have co here and let us hope for a royal engagent if he was just going to go off and play soldier. It was a waste of a perfectly good season. I am rely trying to preserve this family from the disgrace Eleanor seed so intent on courting."
"How can you be so cruel?" I hissed, the sound scraping past my teeth. "He’s going to a place where n die, and you’re complaining about the guest list."
"Shush, Eleanor! I am anything but cruel. I am practical."
Casimir didn’t join in. He simply pinched the bridge of his nose, the exhaustion of the trail etched into every line of his face. He looked like he was one word away from snapping.
"And why," Casimir began, his voice dropping an octave, "is this I am hearing that you intend to wed Eleanor to Bartholow? I thought I made it clear. He is out of the question."
"You very well know, Casimir. Until the prince proved himself useless, Bartholow is the only eligible bachelor left for her," she countered. "After the Prince, no one else would make a suitable match for our family’s standing."
"Yeah, an abuser for a husband," I spat. "I’m sure that will make the Guggenheim na shine. Heir Apparent Throttles New Bride Before Midnight. Does that look good on a social column, Auntie?"
"Shut your mouth, young lady!"
"Eleanor is not marrying Bartholow," Casimir said. It wasn’t an argunt.
Aunt Cornelia laughed. It was a proud, ugly sound.
"Well, it’s too late for your interference. I have already signed the docunts of their marriage. It has been notarized. It is acknowledged by the law of New York. By the end of this week, the banns will be posted. They will be husband and wife."
"What?" Casimir’s hand dropped from his face. "I gave you the authority to manage her hand because I thought it was for the Prince."
"The law doesn’t care about your intent, Casimir. I used the power of attorney you granted to act in the best financial interest of the estate. And what could be more in our interest than the Vanderbilt agreent?"
"I don’t understand your logic, Auntie." Casimir stepped toward her, his shadow looming over the desk. "Care to explain further?"
"Bartholow was... most accommodating," Aunt Cornelia said, smoothing her skirts. "He has agreed that Eleanor’s dowry will remain under the Guggenheim managent after the wedding. He doesn’t want her money, Casimir. He just wants her. He is the only way to keep us from the gutters. He has essentially funded our lifestyle for the next decade in exchange for a girl who has done nothing but cause us trouble."
"You sold her," Casimir hissed, his voice vibrating with rage. "You used her own inheritance as the bribe to keep yourself in silk."
"I did what was right. If you break this contract now, you aren’t just breaking a marriage. You are committing fraud against the Vanderbilts."
"I have fixed the money!" Casimir roared, slamming his hand on the desk. The inkwell rattled. "We’ll pay them back. Every cent. I’ll double it if need be."
The room went dead silent. Even the clock seed to stop ticking.
"And where on earth would you get that amount?" Aunt Cornelia asked, a flicker of doubt crossing her face.
"My expedition in the West was more than just a ride in the dirt," Casimir paused, trying to contain his fury. "The land I secured from the Nez Perce... it contains a copper resource that will supply the mines for the next hundred years. Our nas will stay afloat long after yours is carved into a headstone, Aunt Cornelia. We don’t need a Vanderbilt’s accommodation!"
I felt a surge of hope, a frantic, wild thing in my chest. "So... I’m not going to marry him? I’m free?"
"Don’t be daft! The contract doesn’t allow for repaynt, Casimir. The dowry is already signed over. It’s done."
Aunt Cornelia stood up, her spindly finger pointing at Casimir’s chest like a hex.
"She is still marrying him. The copper in the ground is not cash in the hand, and the Vanderbilt contract is active now. It is final. You can try to find a loophole, Casimir. But by the ti you do, she’ll already be in his bed."
She leaned in, a cruel light in her eyes. "I suggest you start practicing walking her down the aisle."
She swept out of the room, her skirts rustling like a dead wind, slamming the door behind her.
The silence that followed was deafening. I was left alone with him, the air thick with the weight of the trap that had just snapped shut. Casimir didn’t speak. He just watched .
Then, he rounded the desk.
He stopped right in front of my chair. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He hooked a finger under my chin and forced to look up.
"Tell the truth," he rasped. "Why didn’t the Prince pursue you?"
I tried to pull away. "You heard the ghastly spider, Casimir. Felipe was drafted for the war by the King, his father."
"That’s not the truth." He sank down, dropping to one knee to level his face with mine. "I saw the way he looked at you. There is no way in this goddamn world that man would have dropped the prospect of marrying you. Not even for a war. Tell ."
"He proposed," I whispered, my voice breaking.
Casimir stayed silent. Waiting.
"And I said no."
"Why?" he breathed. "Clara, why would you say no to a crown?"
Clara. He called Clara again. How I’d missed the sound of my real na on his tongue
"Because of you." I paused, my heart fluttering against my throat. "Because I—"
"Don’t," he whispered. "Not yet."
He pressed his finger on my lips, cutting off. His eyes were pained, filled with a self-loathing I didn’t understand.
I took his face into my hands, the scratch of his beard real against my palms.
"I miss you." It was barely a breath. "I miss you so fucking much that it hurts."
Before I could take another, his mouth was on mine.
It wasn’t a gentle reunion. It was a collision. He kissed with a desperate, hungry ferocity, his hands sliding into my hair to pull closer. It tasted of salt and longing and the bitter reality of the chains Aunt Cornelia had just wrapped around us.
"God, Clara," he groaned against my lips, his voice ragged. "I shouldn’t have left."
"Then we would have been the most well-dressed beggars on the Bowery," I whispered, trying to ease the tension.
He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine.
"You know I would never let that happen." He kissed again. "I am so glad you said no. The fucking first ti I love hearing you say no."
"What are we going to do now?" I gasped, breaking between kisses. "I can’t marry Bartholow. Never."
"No. Nor will you ever be married to anyone else. I’m going to make Bartholow an offer he can’t refuse. And if that fails... I’ll remind him why people are afraid of the dark."
"You’re going to kill him?"
"My hands are already soaked with more blood than you know, little bird." He brushed his thumb over my lower lip, his gaze turning pitch black. "One more coat won’t make less of a monster than I already am. But it’ll make you mine. Forever."
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