Cassius couldn't help the embarrassment that had settled like a lead weight in his stomach. The silence is the carriage was almost oppressive. Daphne was angry with him, it was practically rolling off of her in waves. She looked pointedly out of the window and repeatedly ignored his bumbling attempts at making conversation.

"I read in The Times today that the Mayfair Menace stole from another house. An Earl, this time," he tried appealing to Daphne's strange fascination with the thief that had left law enforcement baffled and held half of England rapt in anticipation for the revelation of their identity.

"Hmm," Daphne replied, not even dignifying him with a response.

Honoria was also glaring at him, obviously sensing that he had somehow offended the woman she basically worshipped. Great. Their tenuous bonding had just taken a major hit thanks to his own idiotic behavior.

The day had started out well enough, he and Honoria had been ready for their weekly outing with Lady Whittaker, who had arrived looking absolutely pleased with herself. She did not divulge their destination until their carriage had rolled up to a beautiful little art gallery- one that had not yet been open for public viewing. One he had just a few weeks ago expressed his enthusiasm to see. One that even Honoria was excited to see; that was another thing they shared, an appreciation for art. Not that his daughter's taste was very refined, nor was she an expert but she did enjoy looking. They'd gone out to another gallery – just the two of them!- and had spent hours upon hours roaming through the exhibit, Cassius telling her about prominent art styles, showing her how different brushes could be used for different textures, how cleverly artists used colors for highlighting and shading. His daughter had listened with rapt attention, and then on the way home, she had fallen asleep while leaning on him.

It was the happiest Cassius could remember being in recent history.

So naturally, both he and Honoria had been quite pleased with the fact that Lady Whittaker had gotten them an exclusive tour of the premises an entire month before it was meant to open. He could not remember the last time he had been as excited and delighted by anything. He had been filled with an almost childlike glee, a sensation so foreign to him it may as well have been from another time.

And with it rose a helpless sort of resentment inside him, both for himself and for Jemma. Her, because she had been the one who had chipped away at him piece by piece until there was nothing left of him. His joy, his confidence, his damn sense of self.

And himself because he had been the one to let her do it. To have lost himself so much that he believed every awful thing she said about him, to have internalized it so completely that the simple joy of receiving a thoughtful gesture was completely alien to him.

He had looked at his beautiful, generous companion and had felt gratitude so deep it changed something inside him. His mind had been whirling with ideas for things he could gift her to show his appreciation, or perhaps places he could take her. And then everything had gone to the devil.

The doors to the gallery had been opened to reveal a strikingly handsome young man. Blond hair lighter than the dark honey of Cassius' own, figure broader and fuller than Cassius' own slender form, and the kind of mischief lurking in his smile that could only come from having a light, weightless sort of personality instead of Cassius' staid, uptight one.

Prince Alexei Something-or-other was easily closer to Daphne's age than his own, and he certainly looked it. Cassius had never felt more conscious of the lines around his eyes, or the flecks of grey in his hair, or the occasional ache in his knees when he rode too hard, or the fact that he needed spectacles to read when the light was a little too low.

He had bent and given Daphne a kiss on her cheek, and all the delight Cassius had been feeling had gone out like a light. As it turned out, many of the pieces on display were from the Prince's private collection, and Daphne had cajoled him into allowing them an exclusive look at the exhibit. She had barely even given him a sliver of attention after that, walking arm in arm with the prince, exchanging jokes and endearments in Russian; which he did not speak. Though, surprisingly, his daughter had been taught it at a rudimentary level at Mrs. Pinehurst's so even she could take part in their conversations on occasion, and thus he was the only one iced out of the conversation entirely.

It was disconcerting. He had not realized how much he had gotten used to having the entire monopoly on Daphne's attention on their Wednesday outings. Typically, it was he she was winking at, flirting with, joking with. But not that the Prince was here..... she had thrown him over in no time. And it had felt so much like how he had been treated his entire life; ignored by his parents in favor of their private war, isolated in his marriage, and treated coldly by his in laws. A stranger to his daughter. Always the unwanted one, always the one no one missed.

After that, it was like his entire mind shut down, a cold sort of detachment had seeped through him as if somehow attempting to numb the hurt.

After about an hour of this, Daphne had realized what was going on and that he had not been particularly engaged with the rest of them and started to deliberately steer the conversation towards topics that would interest him, correcting everyone to English whenever the Prince began to speak Russian again. But by then Cassius' mood had plummeted, and he could only manage curt, single-syllable answers. Quite frankly his behavior had been ungovernably rude. The Prince had done them a monumental favor by allowing them to see the exhibit, and instead of doing the barest courtesy of acting interested as the Prince gave them a lovely, detailed tour of the exhibit. Cassius had acted aloof and cold, practically dismissive. He had even been rude to Daphne when she had attempted to cajole him into conversation.

He let out a tired sigh as they turned into their street. He did not want her to be upset with him, he wanted her to smile and say something silly or outrageous, or tell them a bit of gossip. Or even talk about the damn Mayfair Menace.

"Would you like to come inside? Perhaps we could play a game of chess?" He asked hopefully, wincing as she glared at him.

"I find myself very exhausted, My Lord."

Great, she was my lord-ing him instead of calling him Pembroke in that sultry, suggestive way of hers. She was spitting mad.

"I have had a new brandy arrive as a gift from a friend. I know you enjoy it, why not join me?" Though typically it was seen as a masculine drink, Daphne had made no effort to demur and hide her appreciation for the spirit while they were alone.

"I don't like brandy," she said, sniffling in distaste.

Yes, he felt like snapping, yes you do. You sample mine every time you come to my house.

The footman opened the door and helped her down, and then Honoria, who stomped indoors without a single word. Cassius wanted to bash his head against the wall. It was all his fault, why couldn't he have kept a damn lid on his emotions? By the time he made it out of the carriage, she was already making her way across the street,

"Lady Whittaker!" He called after her, jogging to match her furious pace. "My lady! Stop!"

"No!" She stopped and wheeled around so abruptly that Cassius almost stumbled. "I refuse to let you make a scene out in the street and then blame me for it. I put a lot of effort into making the arrangements today so that you and your daughter would have a good day. And just because of your low opinion of me and Alexei, you would ruin the entire day not just for me but also for Honoria? I don't wish to speak to you right now. Go home, Pembroke."

"But I just want to-"

"Go. Home." She snarled at him one last time and then continued her furious march back to her own home, leaving Cassius both frustrated and guilty. He would find a way to make it up to her, though. And then she would smile at him again, as she was meant to.