The duchess took a deep breath. “She had it with her at the house party. She brings all her letters from you with her. It was in the same box. I sneaked into her room. I know I shouldn’t have, but I truly think … Read the letter, Captain. Please.”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “If you think Cassandra will be displeased that you brought it to me, then why have you?”
“Because I think it will make a difference. And I think it’s important. And”—she sighed—“the truth is that Cass already wants my head so I’m not risking much in coming here.” She smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The duchess stood and smoothed her skirts. “I’ll leave you, Captain. I hope you’ll read the letter.”
Julian stood, too, and watched the duchess go in a blurry haze. “Read the letter,” he mumbled. “No more excuses.”
And then he fell face-first onto the sofa.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
When Julian awoke the next morning, he was in his bed at Donald’s house and the devil was playing the drums in his skull. He sat up slowly and cautiously reached for the bellpull.
The butler arrived in a matter of moments.
“I beg you, Pengree, bring me something for my head,” Julian said.
“Right away, my lord,” Pengree replied, swiveling on his heel and leaving the room.
Julian braced his hands against his temples and squeezed. God, why had he drunk so much brandy? He’d been an untried youth the last time he’d got so out of control with drink. Bad. Bad. Form.
The barest hint of a memory formed in his brain. Last night. The study. The brandy. The duchess. By God, Derek’s little dark-haired duchess had stopped by to visit him and blast it if he couldn’t remember a word that she’d said. Surely, there’d been some reason she’d come. He barely recalled trying to make out her face in the blurry haze of two bright-eyed young women who sat wavering on his sofa.
Bloody hell. It hurt to try to remember. No doubt she’d come with more excuses and lies. Or to try to tell him that Cassandra was not to blame. Rubbish, all of it. By God, he— He groaned. He’d moved his head far too quickly.
He remembered a bit about what he’d done last night, mostly ruminated about Cassie and her penchant for lying. And hadn’t she played her bloody role to perfection? Even going so far as to pretend she didn’t know he had a brother or a sister. Asking if they were close. It was sickening. Cassie knew damn well that he and Donald had never been close.
Pengree came hurrying back into the room with a concoction that Julian’s friend Devon Morgan, the Marquis of Colton, had invented years ago when they were young men about town. It was green, it was hideous, and it worked like bloody magic. Donald had used it, too, upon occasion, and his butler obviously knew the recipe. Julian took the glass from the silver tray and stared at the vile liquid. Then he downed it in one awful gulp.
He breathed deeply, trying not to choke. “Pengree?” he finally said.
The butler stopped and turned around. “Yes, my lord.”
“The Duchess of Claringdon visited me last night?”
“Yes, my lord. She was in your study for nearly a quarter hour. She asked me to check on you when she left.”
Julian rubbed his temples. “And what did you find when you checked on me?”
Pengree cleared his throat. “You were, ahem, asleep on the sofa, my lord.”
“Asleep?”
“In a manner of speaking, my lord.”
Translation, passed out. “Did she say anything to you, Pengree? Did she leave anything?”
“No, my lord. Not to my knowledge.”
Julian shook his head and then groaned again. The green stuff didn’t work quite that quickly. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he was forgetting something, something the duchess had said perhaps.
“Very well, Pengree. Thank you.”
The butler left the room without another word.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Please, Julian, please take me to the theater. It’s been an age since I’ve had an escort.” Daphne was damned convincing when she wanted to be, and unfortunately, Julian always found it difficult to say no to his little sister.
He glanced over at her. Daphne was nearly nineteen now and a grown woman. She had already survived her first Season. The change in her had shocked him. Not quite as much as the change in Cassandra Monroe but— No. That sort of thinking was entirely unhelpful.
“I’m pleased to hear that the Monroes were not angry with you for breaking off your arrangement with Penelope,” his mother said from her perch on a rosewood chair a few feet away from him.
Julian let out a slight laugh. “Penelope was just as eager to be rid of me as I was of her, it seems.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Daphne said with a bright smile. “Now, about the theater tonight…”
In the end, Julian agreed. Daphne seemed a bit down, not in her usual high spirits. She was sad about Donald and Rafe. Julian wanted to get her mind off her worries about them. “Very well, the theater it is.”
Daphne laughed and clapped her hands.
Several hours later, as they made their way into Donald’s box at the theater, Julian realized just what a monumental mistake it had been to agree to accompany his sister.
How could he have possibly forgotten that the theater just so happened to be one of Cassandra’s favorite places? How many times in her letters had she regaled him with tales of going to see this play or that with her friends? It shouldn’t have been a surprise when he saw her, sitting across from him in a box with her mother … and none other than Garrett Upton. But it was.
Garrett Upton.
Burning jealousy streaked through Julian’s chest. Upton. That’s who it was. It was all so clear now. Julian had had his suspicions. But now, seeing them together, he no longer had doubts. Upton had been there, at the house party, probably silently mocking Julian the entire time while his cousin and her friend played their little game with him. It had to be Upton. He was the only man other than her father and brother whom Cass had ever mentioned in her letters. Upton was always there with them. She’d even stayed at his house last summer in Bath. Another memory impaled itself in Julian’s brain. Upton had been alone with Cassie in the library that night at the house party before Julian had arrived. He’d asked her about it at the time and she’d made some excuse about Upton looking for a book before bed. She had pretended she didn’t even know him.
Yes, it was Upton. Julian was certain. And Upton was the heir to an earldom. Wasn’t that what Cassandra had always told him her mother insisted she marry? A title. A title exactly like the one Julian did not have?
He glared across the space at the two of them. The moment his eyes met Cassandra’s she dropped her gaze, put her handkerchief to her mouth, and quickly exited the box. Cassandra’s mother appeared oblivious, but Upton stood and watched her go. Then he turned his stare in Julian’s direction. Julian returned his look with a narrow-eyed smirk. It was a good thing Upton was on the other side of the theater or he’d smash in his bloody face.
“Excuse me a moment,” Julian said to Daphne. He stood and left his own box without thinking about it, as if his legs were moving of their own accord. With ground-devouring strides, he made his way down the corridor and out into the lobby.
Cassie was standing there, shaking, a few tears in her eyes. For a moment, Julian felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Had he made her feel this way? But then reality returned with a vengeance in the form of memories. What did he care? He couldn’t trust her. Not one bit. She’d lied to him, over and over. She had only told him the truth when she’d been forced to. This entire stance of hers was probably for show. She was a consummate actress. Had she guessed he would follow her? He would do well to turn around, go back to his sister, and ignore Cassie. She deserved no less.
Then he remembered how frightened she’d looked when she heard Donald was missing in France. That hadn’t been an act. She had truly cared.
“Cassandra.” Her name escaped his lips of its own volition. Bloody hell. Too late.
She turned. Her eyes went wide. “Julian? Wh-what are you doing here?”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “I could have sworn you saw me in the theater.”
She nodded slowly. “I did. I meant, what are you doing out here?” She gestured to the lobby.
She was trying to ask him why he’d followed her and was doing a poor job of it.
“Why are you crying?” he heard himself ask.
She glanced away. “I’m not crying.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Please, Julian.”
He strode forward then and grabbed her by the wrist. He pulled her behind him several paces until they reached a secluded alcove in the corner. Then he spun her away from him and turned to face her. “Why are you crying?”
“I know. I don’t have the right to cry about this,” she said, even as a tear rolled down her nose and plopped off. She quickly pressed her handkerchief to her face.
“Then why are you?” he demanded.
“I can’t help it.”
“Damn it, Cassandra. You’re the one—”
A bit of fire flared in her eyes, fire he’d never seen before. “I know. I know. I’m the one who misled you. I’m the one who lied. I know what I’ve done, Julian. I have no one to blame but myself. But I’m not lying when I say I’m sorry for it and I’d take it back if only I could.”
He’d been about to say, “You’re the one who loves someone else.” Thank God she’d stopped him. That would have been admitting far too much, damn it. All he wanted to do now was punch his bloody fist through the nearest wall. She was standing here crying because they’d lost their friendship. As far as he was concerned, they’d lost so much more.
“You came here tonight with Upton?” he ventured.
Another slow nod. “Yes.”
He clenched his fist. “Do you intend to marry him?”
She glanced away, tears streaking down both cheeks. “My mother wants me to.”
He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “And you? Is that what you want?”
“Cassandra.” They both swiveled around to see Upton standing a few paces away, hands on his hips, glaring at them like a jealous bridegroom. “Are you all right?”
Cass nodded. “Yes, Garrett. I’m all right.”
“No need to check on her, Upton. She’s fine,” Julian ground out, wishing he could bury his fist in Upton’s face.
“She doesn’t look fine to me,” Upton replied, watching Cass carefully. “Do you need me, Cassandra?”
Julian took one menacing step toward Upton. The man needed only to say one more word. Julian had enough rage in him tonight to beat him to a bloody pulp. Cassandra brushed past Julian and stood in front of Upton, blocking him from Julian’s view. She’d just saved him.
“I’m fine, Garrett. Truly. Just give me a moment.”
Garrett. She was already calling him by his Christian name. Had she written him letters when he’d been gone to the war in Spain? Who wasn’t she writing letters to?
“Fine. I’ll wait for you over there,” Upton said, moving over to the doorway that led to the row where their box was situated. Julian let his fist relax, watching the man’s retreat. He’d better stay back.
Cass turned back to face Julian, brushing the tears away from her eyes with both hands. “Will you ever forgive me, Julian?” she asked in a voice that made his knees weak.
Will you ever love me, Cassandra?
He glanced away, toward the darkened corridor. “I don’t think I can.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Damn Daphne and her damn penchant for wanting to be in the middle of damn Society, the middle of the action, actually. Whatever that was. And tonight, apparently, it was the Marquis of Hillborough’s ball. Half of London was in the country for the autumn but the one event everyone was apparently coming back for was this blasted ball.
“Everyone will be there, Julian,” Daphne had cajoled, and since Julian had yet to hear back from Wellington one way or another, he gave in to his sister’s demand and escorted her to the ball.
The only good news was that Julian expected Derek back any day now. He hadn’t received any letters from his friend since the last one, but Derek had been given only a fortnight in which to find the other two men. The deadline was rapidly approaching and Julian waited on tenterhooks to hear from him. Perhaps, if this mission was unsuccessful, Wellington would approve of the two of them going back together. Julian could only hope.
“Why are you so grouchy?” Daphne asked, batting her long black eyelashes at him. His sister looked positively pretty sitting across from him in the coach. She wore a light green gown. Her blond hair was pulled up atop her head, her gray eyes—the ones that mirrored his own—blinking at him curiously. She was about as tall as one of the flag boys on the battlefield, but despite her small stature, her personality was bigger than life. Daphne had always been, ahem, wild, for lack of a better term. Oh, she knew all the rules of decorum and how to be the proper daughter of an earl. Only she went about deliberately breaking those rules with aplomb.
Once, she’d run away from home and been found down by the docks a fortnight later wearing breeches and pretending to be a boy. Donald had never managed to get out of her exactly what she’d been up to and as a family they’d managed to keep the scandal under wraps, but as a result, their mother was more than glad to have one of her sons back home to help her keep an eye on the girl. It was all Mother could do, she said, to keep Daphne from sneaking out her bedchamber window at night.
Julian had finally had a chance to ask his sister what she knew about Donald’s trip to France.
“Oh, come now, dear brother, I may be a female but I’m hardly stupid.”
Julian had smiled at that. His little sister was even more savvy than he gave her credit for. “I had a feeling Donald was up to something when he mentioned he’d be traveling with Captain Cavendish.”
“Rafe?”
“Yes. Rafe’s been working for the War Office for years,” Daphne replied.
“How did you know—?”
“What did I just say about not being stupid?”
Julian made a mental note not to underestimate his sister. Rafe Cavendish prided himself on his discretion and if Daphne had guessed what he was up to, she must be quite discerning, indeed.
Daphne folded her arms over her chest. “I could be just as effective a spy as Donald could be, you know. Better even, I daresay.”
“If you think for one moment, I’d allow you to—”
She held up a hand. “I know. I know. I’m a lady and a young one at that. How could I ever manage to do something as dangerous as working for the War Office?” She rolled her eyes.
Julian narrowed his eyes on his sister. The girl was too intelligent by half.
“Not to worry,” Daphne continued. “Donald’s secret is perfectly safe with me, as is Captain Cavendish’s, of course. Mama thinks they were merely carrying out some innocuous sort of parliamentary business. Nothing dangerous of course, and that’s exactly what I want her to believe. Until we get word.”
The two siblings exchanged glances. They both knew how dire the news might be, how serious it was. Julian nodded. Whatever else her faults, Daphne knew how to keep a secret. She also knew exactly how to get what she wanted. Two extraordinary traits, Julian had to concede. He often wondered at the type of man who would be able to get his fiery little sister to settle down to a marriage and children. Best of luck to the poor sop.
“Now, stop being so grouchy and let’s enjoy the ball this evening,” Daphne added.
“I am not grouchy,” Julian insisted.
“Yes you are,” Daphne retorted, sticking her cute little button nose up in the air. “You’ve been grouchy ever since you came back from the Continent.”
“Yes, well, nearly dying will do that to a man.”
Daphne pursed her lips. “No you don’t.
You don’t fool me. I know you’re grouchy for a reason that has absolutely nothing to do with what happened to you over there.”
Julian gave her what he hoped was a bored expression. “What reason is that?”
“It’s because you broke things off with Penelope Monroe,” Daphne announced. “Though I cannot say I blame you. She’s always been perfectly nice to me, of course, but I just never…” She squinted as if trying to think of the correct word to use. “I just never quite envisioned the two of you together. It didn’t seem quite right, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“Yes you do. You’re just being grouchy again.”
“I assure you, my mood has nothing to do with the end of my agreement with Penelope.”
“Frankly, I’m quite pleased. Mama was forced to give me five pounds over it.” Daphne laughed her sparkling laugh, the one that Julian had already noticed made other men’s heads turn when they were out.
“Don’t laugh that way. I’ll have enough trouble keeping gentlemen away from you tonight.”
“Oh, please.” Daphne rolled her eyes once more.
Julian pulled on his gloves. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but why did Mother give you five pounds?”
“Because I won the bet, silly.”
He arched a brow. “Bet?”
“I bet Mama that when you came home you would end things with Penelope immediately. Mama said you’d be planning a spring wedding.”
His brow remained arched. “Mother had that much faith in me, did she?”
“It’s not that she wanted you to marry Penelope. I don’t think she did, really. Though she hasn’t said. It’s just that she was convinced you would do it.”
“I see. And you didn’t believe I’d remain so steadfast?”
Daphne shook her head. Her blond curls bobbed against her cheeks. “Absolutely not.”
“What made you so certain?”
“Because I’ve been around to see her cousin Cassandra grow up, dear brother.” She gave him a sidewise catlike smile. “You’ve seen Cassandra since you’ve been back, have you not?”
The Accidental Countess Page 19
