The Accidental Countess

by Valerie Bowman

  Cass swallowed. It still hurt to think about how close he’d come to never returning. “Because you lived?” Her voice was low, barely a whisper.

  “Yes, because I came back.” He paused for a moment, closed his eyes, breathed the night air. “It was not my plan.”

  Cass wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?” It was not his plan? He’d never mentioned anything like that in his letters.

  He opened his eyes again and shook his head. He smiled slightly but it was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. The one he used in ballrooms and public places where people asked him too many questions. She hated that he was using it with her. “Ah, much too grim a subject for such a festive night,” he said.

  “Tell me something else about yourself then,” she said. She’d originally asked because Miss Bunbury wouldn’t know, but the answer surprised her. What else didn’t she know about Julian?

  He grinned. “I’m rubbish at cards, you’ve already borne witness to my poor dancing skills, and I am the kingdom’s most unenthusiastic hunter.”

  Cass blinked at him. “I didn’t know that you’re rubbish at cards.”

  He frowned.

  “I mean … I … it surprises me, that’s all. I thought you might have played during the war. With your men, I mean.”

  “The officers played, that’s true, quite a lot. But I can hardly claim I won much. It was fortunate that we never played for anything valuable. Against rules, you know.”

  Cass closed her eyes. There were things about him, certain things that she didn’t know, it seemed. He’d mentioned the card games with the officers in his letters. She’d always pictured him winning every hand. Now that she considered it, however, he’d never claimed as much. She dared a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was the man she’d loved for so long through his letters. But he was also something else, flesh and blood, real and true and sitting beside her.

  “Tell me something, Miss Bunbury.”

  There it was again, the reminder that she was a liar. She wrapped her cloak even more tightly over her shoulders. “You’ve been kind enough to answer my questions, Captain Swift. I’m happy to answer one of yours.”

  “How are you?” His voice was soft, caring. She’d always imagined his voice like this when she’d read his letters.

  She blinked and blinked again. “How … am I, Captain Swift?” Whatever could he mean?

  “In Penelope’s last letter, she told me that you’d been jilted over the summer.”

  Cass nearly choked. “I … um…” That was right. Pen had mentioned that she’d told Julian that Patience Bunbury had been jilted. Mr. Albatross, wasn’t it? That was the reason why poor Patience needed her good friend Penelope at her side at the house party. Some friend she was, Cass thought with a bit of irony.

  “I hope I haven’t embarrassed you by asking the question.” He gave her a small encouraging smile. It was just like Julian to ask a stranger how she was holding up. That’s what Cass loved about him, his kind heart.

  “No. I … I’m quite fine. Er, at least I will be.” Once I stop lying. “Albus … er … Mr. Albatross. He and I didn’t suit. It’s for the best.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “How are you?” The words spilled from her lips more as a way to change the subject than anything else.

  “Me?” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

  “Yes, I’d truly like to know. It can’t have been easy for you, all those years at war.”

  He let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s where I belong … belonged. Actually, now I’m not certain where I belong.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”

  He let out a shaky laugh. “I recently learned that my brother is missing … in France.”

  She pressed a hand to her heart. “Your brother? Your brother is missing?”

  “Yes. My brother is the Earl of Swifdon. He … he was on business in France and hasn’t returned.”

  “I didn’t know your brother was traveling,” she said.

  Julian furrowed his brow. “You didn’t know I had a brother. How could you know he was traveling?”

  She glanced away. “Oh, I … um. Of course not.” She cleared her throat. “You said he was there on business, however. So I just assumed … For the Crown?”

  “He … yes. Parliamentary business.”

  “And he’s missing? He may be hurt?” She twisted her fingers together.

  “Yes.” Julian nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Thank you,” he replied. “It’s just that…” He looked away into the darkened hedgerow.

  “Yes?” she prompted. “Please, you can tell me.”

  Julian groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. “I know it’s selfish but I just can’t help but think … if he doesn’t come back … I can’t…” He raised his head and shook it. “It doesn’t matter. Forgive me for being so morose. It’s unbecoming of this beautiful evening.”

  Cass took a deep breath, hoping he didn’t see the tears shimmering in her eyes. Patience Bunbury didn’t know what he would have said next, but Cass did. She knew exactly, and she longed to reach out and run her fingers through his hair, comfort him, say something to relieve his pain. But she couldn’t. She clutched her shaky hands together in her lap. “I do hope your brother returns safely, Captain,” was all she could offer him.

  He paused for a moment, then looked up into the twinkling night sky. “May I ask you one more question, Miss Bunbury?”

  Cass nodded. “Of course.”

  “What do you want out of life?”

  She shook her head. He’d caught her off guard, surprised her. Partly because it was such an unexpected question and partly because she couldn’t have imagined Julian would ask such a thing of a nearly complete stranger. But it made her nervous, too. She couldn’t risk saying anything Cass might say. She must answer this question as Patience Bunbury, the woman who didn’t exist. In this case, vagueness was probably best. “Oh, the same thing as most young ladies, I expect.”

  “Such as?” he pressed. “Forgive my impertinence, but I find since I’ve returned from war, I’m quite interested in knowing the answer to this question, both for myself and for others. How many people do you think truly know what they want, Miss Bunbury?”

  Cass took a deep breath. That was what he was preoccupied with, the search for knowing what he wanted? Her throat clogged with tears. Julian, her Julian, had been so damaged by the war. No. He was not her Julian. He was Pen’s Julian. “I don’t know,” she murmured. It was all she could allow herself to say. Patience Bunbury could say no more.

  “So, what do you want, Miss Bunbury? Do you know?”

  She glanced into the darkened foliage. You. Her heart screamed it.

  What would Patience Bunbury say, though? “Marriage, children … love.”

  His turned his head sharply to look at her. “Love?”

  She looked down at her gloved fingers. She couldn’t meet his eyes. He would surely see the truth there, that they were two souls who already knew each other, knew so much about each other and had shared countless hours of secrets and thoughts. “Yes.” Her voice broke on the word. “Wha … what do you want, Captain Swift?”

  He stared at his hands and the gravel. “I want to…”

  Cass’s heart lodged in her throat. “I promise whatever you say will be held in the strictest confidence,” she breathed, leaning forward, nearly on the edge of the bench. She already held many of Julian’s secrets. She would never tell any of them.

  He drew in a large breath. “I’ve had a great deal of time to think about life and what is important and I have decided that since I lived, since I returned…”

  She nearly toppled from the bench. “Yes?”

  “I want to start a fund, for soldiers, for war veterans and their families.”

  She tilted her head to the side, considering his words. He’d never mentioned this in his l
etters. “A fund?”

  “Yes, especially for the injured ones, the ones who cannot work. Their lives have already been shattered by war. They deserve better than to come home to nothing.”

  Cass put her hand on his. “I think that’s lovely.”

  He bent his head but did not move his hand away. “I may not have a title, but I have friends, connections. I intend to do whatever I can to help those men.”

  “I’ll help you, too.” The words slipped from her mouth before she even had a chance to think about them. “However I can, that is.”

  “Thank you, Miss Bunbury.” He paused for a moment. “There’s one more thing, though I fear I shouldn’t burden you with it.”

  She met his eyes then. She had to. “What’s that?”

  “You promise to keep it a secret?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed.

  He gave her an intense look and for a moment, a heart-stopping moment, Cass was certain he knew her. “It’s odd, but I feel as if I could tell you anything. I cannot explain it,” he said. “There’s only one other person on earth whom I’ve felt that way about.”

  An ache formed in Cass’s chest. “Pen … Penelope?”

  “No. My friend Lady Cassandra Monroe.”

  Guilt and happiness collided in Cass’s belly, where guilt promptly proceeded to beat the sop out of happiness.

  Cass smiled and looked away, breaking their eye contact. He didn’t know her. He hadn’t guessed. Oh, the guilt. The guilt. “I promise, Captain Swift. I won’t tell your secret.”

  He pushed a boot through the gravel, crunching it beneath his heel. “As soon as I find Penelope, I intend to tell her I cannot marry her.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Cass paced in front of the windows in her bedchamber. Pacing, it seemed, was her new pastime. But if anything called for some pacing and worry, it was this latest bit of news. Julian planned to break things off with Pen? How could that be? How? Everything Cass had always known and believed seemed to be changing before her eyes. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? He’d already intended to end his engagement with Pen. What did he intend to do after that? Cass hadn’t had the courage to ask him. Not even as Patience Bunbury. He’d seemed so pensive, so quiet, so affected. Instead, she’d promised him his secret was safe with her and merely nodded when he’d told her he intended to break things off with Pen.

  The one question she’d truly wanted to ask had died a slow death on her tongue. “Is it because of your friend Cassandra? Is that why you want to end your engagement?” But she couldn’t ask that. Surely he would have wondered why she’d made that leap.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Was it? Was it the answer to her prayers or the start of a nightmare? Pen? Jilted? Awful. Pen’s parents would be devastated. As for Pen herself, Cass wasn’t exactly certain how she would react. Her heart wouldn’t be broken, that much was certain, but surely she wouldn’t be pleased about being jilted by the man she’d waited seven years for. And none of this was like Julian. Julian was solid, and dependable, trustworthy to a fault. He would never hurt anyone or not hold up his end of a bargain. Something had happened to him in the last few months. He’d changed. She’d felt it in his letters but never dreamed it would be like this.

  After his confession tonight, he’d quickly made his excuses and left the garden. Perhaps he thought he’d said too much to Patience Bunbury. And why had he told Patience and not Cass? He’d never hinted at anything like that in his letters to her over the summer.

  And what about the news of Donald? It was unimaginable. Donald in France? Why would the earl be there? Parliamentary business, Julian had said, but that made little sense. Cass’s heart wrenched at the memory of the look on Julian’s face when he’d said, “If he doesn’t come back … I can’t…” She knew exactly what he meant. She didn’t know why, he’d never said why in his letters, but she knew that Julian had always felt like the unwanted son, the unnecessary son. He felt as if he wasn’t good enough to be the heir, the earl. She knew just how he felt because she’d played the same role in her family. Owen, eight years her senior, was a male, an heir. She was just a lowly female, whose only purpose lay in securing a decent match and aligning her family with another illustrious title. She’d wanted to reach out to Julian, run her fingers through his hair, comfort him, assure him that no matter what happened he could and would make his family proud. There was no possible way he could fail. As Patience Bunbury she couldn’t let on that she knew anything about his deepest fears. But as Cass she could. She could and she would.

  She hurried over to the writing desk against the wall and pulled out a sheet of parchment, then she grabbed up her quill. She had a letter to write.

  * * *

  Thirty. Julian mentally counted off the press-ups as he did them in front of the windows of his guest chamber. Toes and palms braced against the floor, he pushed up his entire body using only the strength of his arms. Physical activity always seemed to clear his mind. He’d made a habit of doing press-ups on the nights before battles. Now that he was back in England, back in Society, he would have to do them in front of damask-covered walls on fine carpets instead of on wet, muddy, cold battlefields. Either was fine with him. As long as they still served to clear his mind.

  Why had he confessed his secret to Patience Bunbury? Well, one of his secrets. He didn’t even know the young woman. There was something about her, though, something besides her beauty, something that made him feel safe and content and … at home. It sounded ludicrous in his head even as he had the thought, but he couldn’t help himself. It was true. There was something about her quiet, gentle nature, her unassuming personality, that far outshone her beauty. In her company, he felt as if he could tell her anything, everything, almost like … Cassandra.

  Forty. He continued his exertion, his breathing coming fast and his arms burning with the strain. Normally, he welcomed the pain, tonight was no exception. It had taken him weeks to build his strength back up to be able to do this again. He gritted his teeth. Now he could only hope that Patience would keep her word and not tell Penelope what he’d said. Penelope was her friend, after all. It stood to reason that she might be tempted to tell. She’d promised him, however, and something told him she would keep that promise. But in the end, it wouldn’t matter. He intended to tell Penelope himself the moment she arrived, or at the first opportunity, at least.

  Something else niggled at his conscience, however. It had been bad form to tell Miss Bunbury about his plans. The young woman had recently been jilted, after all. His confession might well have brought back those painful memories. She told him she was fine, but he had no doubt it would take a while for such a painful wound to heal. He knew all about healing wounds. Penelope had mentioned Miss Bunbury’s broken engagement to him and if Penelope bothered to write, it was serious. Yes, it had been wrong of him for more than one reason to admit to Miss Bunbury that he intended to end his engagement to Penelope.

  Fifty. Groaning, he let go and fell to the carpet, spent. He rolled over and scrubbed both hands across his face. Who was he? He’d once been a man who would rather take his own life than be anything other than honorable. Now, he was poised to jilt his own would-be bride.

  Life. That’s what it was. He’d learned the value of life lying on that bloody field outside of Waterloo. He’d learned it, and he would never forget.

  A knock sounded on his bedchamber door, and Julian stopped short. He stood, strode over to the door, and yanked it open.

  A footman stood at attention, two letters resting on a silver tray he held in front of him.

  “I am sorry to bother you, Captain, but these arrived for you this evening.”

  Julian thanked the young man and flipped him a coin. The footman bowed to him. Julian pulled the letters from the tray, turned, and shut the door behind him. Recognizing Derek’s bold scrawl on the first one, Julian ripped open the seal. He held his breath.

  Swift,

  Collin and I have arrived safely in Fr
ance. Good news. We’ve questioned some people who heard a rumor about two Englishmen being held by the French. They think they know where the two men were taken. We’re leaving in the morning to look for the camp. Don’t worry. We’ll be careful in case it’s a trap. I’ll write again as soon as I know more.

  Hunt

  Julian expelled his breath. Wasn’t it just like Hunt to sign his letters Hunt instead of Claringdon? How long would it be before his friend got used to the fact that he was a duke? Julian smiled at the irony. He still thought of him as Hunt. How long would it be before he thought of him as Claringdon?

  As for the contents of the letter, they were as good as could be expected. Hunt had a lead and was pursuing it. Julian couldn’t ask for better news so soon. But, damn it. He shouldn’t be here, enjoying the merriment of a country house party while God only knew what was happening to Donald and Rafe in France. If they were still alive, they were no doubt being held and likely tortured.

  Julian crumpled the letter in his fist and tossed it into the fireplace. Wartime correspondence should be destroyed immediately.

  Wait.

  It wasn’t wartime any longer.

  Well, it was as long as Donald and Rafe weren’t safe. Julian shook his head. He had to finish this nonsense with his supposed engagement and get to France to help his friends as soon as possible. Which meant no more waiting. He had to find Penelope Monroe immediately.

  He turned his attention to the second letter, nearly forgotten in his grasp. He glanced down at it and sucked in his breath. It was from Cassandra.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jane was ushered into the green drawing room at Garrett Upton’s house the next morning. His home was nowhere near as grand as the Upbridge estate that would one day be his, but it was large and serviceable and only a few miles’ ride from Lucy’s house. Jane had left her maid and the groomsmen outside with the coach. This was a conversation much better held in private.

  She glanced around. Upton was not yet in the room. She rolled her eyes. He was going to make her wait. Of course he was. Now how had she got so wrapped up in Lucy’s latest scheme? She shook her head. Lucy had that way about her. The moment she got a notion in her head, she began to put it into action and the rest of them just fell into the choreographed affair that she pulled off with such aplomb. It was shocking, really.