My Bratty Wife
Chapter 156 - Hundred And Fifty Six

Chapter 156: Chapter Hundred And Fifty Six

The carriage finally rolled to a stop in front of a grand, imposing castle. "Carleton," Cassandra heard someone murmur, though she wasn’t sure who. She stepped down from the carriage, her legs a little shaky. A man with a neatly trimmed beard and a kind smile approached them.

"Welcome to Carleton," he said warmly. "His Grace has been eagerly awaiting your arrival. I am Bradford, his Grace’s butler."

Count Edmund, Cassandra’s father, returned the smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Thank you, Bradford. We encountered a small mishap on our journey here, but nothing of consequence."

Mr. Bradford nodded politely. "I’m glad to hear it. Please, come this way. His Grace is expecting you in the drawing room." He gestured towards the castle entrance.

They followed Mr. Bradford through the massive oak doors and into the castle. Cassandra’s eyes widened slightly as she took in the grandeur of the interior. The entrance hall was vast and high-ceilinged, with a gleaming marble floor and walls adorned with portraits of stern-looking men and women in elaborate outfits. A magnificent staircase curved upwards, disappearing into the shadows.

Mr. Bradford led them down a long corridor and into a room that took Cassandra’s breath away. It was the drawing room, and it was even more beautiful than she could have imagined.

Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating the rich, deep red of the thick carpets and the soft, creamy white of the walls. Ornate furniture, covered in plush velvet, was arranged around the room. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling like a thousand tiny stars. There were paintings everywhere, landscapes and portraits in gilded frames. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow on the scene.

Countess Helene’s eyes gleamed as she took in the splendor of the room. She ran a hand lightly over the arm of a velvet chair, a calculating look on her face. If it weren’t for the age gap and the Duke’s... reputation, she thought to herself, Isabella would have been perfect for him. But Cassandra will do. She’s quiet, obedient, and no one will care what happens to her. She’s the perfect sacrifice. She glanced at Cassandra, who was standing quietly near the doorway, her expression unreadable. A small, cruel smile played on the Countess’s lips.

Mr. Bradford turned to them. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I will inform his Grace of your arrival." He bowed slightly and then left the room.

Countess Helene sank gracefully onto a sofa, smoothing the folds of her dress. Isabella sat beside her, looking around the room with open curiosity. Count Edmund remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back. Cassandra stayed near the door, feeling small and insignificant in the grand surroundings.

"Leave that spot and sit immediately. Don’t embarrass me." Count Edmund snapped at Cassandra who jolted from her thoughts and took a sit.

A few minutes later, the door opened again, and a tall, imposing man entered the room. This was Duke Charles.

"Edmund," he said, extending his hand towards Cassandra’s father.

"Charles," Count Edmund replied, his voice hearty as he clasped the Duke’s hand in a firm shake.

Duke Charles’s gaze swept over the group, lingering for a moment on Cassandra. He gave a curt nod. "Edmund," he said, his voice low and resonant. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation in my study? It’s a little more... private."

"Certainly, Charles," Count Edmund agreed readily.

Duke Charles nodded again. "Mr. Bradford will see to the ladies. Come this way, Edmund." He turned and led Count Edmund out of the drawing room, leaving Cassandra, Countess Helene, and Isabella alone.

Mr. Bradford bowed. "Of course, Your Grace." He turned to Countess Helene, Isabella, and Cassandra. "Please, can I offer you anything? Tea? Refreshments?"

Countess Helene, with her pretense of grace, smiled smoothly. "Thank you, Mr. Bradford. Some tea would be lovely."

Isabella, still feeling a bit awkward after her mother’s earlier reprimand, simply nodded.

Cassandra, as always, remained quiet, her gaze drifting back to the landscape painting, her mind far away from the grand drawing-room.

"Miss?" Mr. Bradford’s gentle voice broke through Cassandra’s reverie. She blinked, startled, and looked up at him.

"Oh,I’m sorry," she murmured, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "Tea would be lovely, thank you. But... could I ask you something?"

Countess Helene, who had been observing Cassandra with a keen eye, shot her a sharp, warning glance. Cassandra immediately shrank back, her voice trailing off, her gaze dropping to her lap.

"What is it you wanted to ask, Lady Cassandra?" Mr. Bradford asked kindly, his eyes softening as he looked at Cassandra’s timid expression.

Cassandra hesitated, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. "Could I... could I see the garden?" She spoke in a low voice.

Mr. Bradford smiled. "Of course. It’s quite beautiful this time of year." He turned to one of the maids who was standing nearby. "Juna , would you be so kind as to see to the tea for Countess Helene and Lady Isabella? I’ll be back shortly."

Juna curtsied. "Certainly, Mr. Bradford."

Mr. Bradford then gestured to Cassandra. "Come this way, Lady Cassandra."

Cassandra rose slowly, relief washing over her. She followed Mr. Bradford out of the drawing-room and through a series of hallways, until they reached a large, arched doorway. As they stepped through the doorway, Cassandra gasped softly.

The vibrant colors of the flowers seemed to lift her spirits, and the sweet fragrance of the blossoms filled her senses, bringing a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in a long time. She felt a sense of wonder and awe as she took it all in. It was so different from her stepmother’s garden, which was mostly for show. This garden felt... alive.

She inhaled its sweet fragrance of the breeze, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the moment. It was a moment of pure, simple joy, a rare and precious feeling in her life.

"It’s... it’s lovely," she whispered, her voice filled with genuine awe.

Mr. Bradford smiled. "I’m glad you like it. Lord Ryan is very fond of this gardens. He spends a great deal of time here."

" Oh who might that be?" Cassandra asked.

" Lord Ryan is the Duke’s first son." Mr Bradford answered as they walk through a bed of roses.

She paused to admire a particularly beautiful rose, its petals a deep, velvety red. She reached out a hesitant hand to touch it, then quickly withdrew it, as if afraid of causing it harm.

"Do you have a favorite flower, Lady Cassandra?" Mr. Bradford asked.

Cassandra thought for a moment. "I... I like lilies," she said softly. "They’re so elegant and graceful."

"A fine choice," Mr. Bradford agreed. "We have a lovely patch of lilies near the fountain. Would you like to see them?"

Cassandra nodded eagerly, a small smile gracing her lips.