Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers along her elbows. “There is one thing you’ve failed to realize, my friend. I saw the way Captain Swift looked at you when he walked in the room, the way his face fell when he realized you weren’t Pen. That’s when I made my decision. I had to wait to ensure he didn’t recognize you first, though, of course. I’m telling you, Cass, he’s half in love with you already.”
Cass bit her lip, gazing at the pattern of the carpet. “It would be nice to visit with him, dance with him, and pretend. For just a day or two.”
Lucy’s smile grew even wider. “That is the spirit.”
“But what if—?”
“Oh, Cass. Don’t worry so much. You’ve always been a worrier.”
Cass wrinkled her nose. “That’s quite funny, actually, because I don’t think you worry enough.”
“Nonsense. Besides, you worry enough for both of us. We’ll have this party and you’ll pretend to be Patience. It will all work out in the end. You’ll see. Be bold!”
Cass groaned.
CHAPTER FOUR
Fifteen minutes later, Julian was ushered into Derek Hunt’s town house. His encounter with the two ladies at Penelope’s parents’ house was still replaying itself in his mind. Lady Worthing? He’d never met her before, but she seemed a lovely young woman. She was pretty, high-spirited, and had the most unusual eyes he’d ever seen; one was blue, the other green. But the other young lady, Patience Bunbury, why, she’d nearly taken his breath away. He’d never been so instantly physically attracted to a woman before.
It was as if lightning had struck him in the head the moment he saw her. He’d never quite been at a loss for words before, either, but he’d been unable to coherently form a sentence. He’d been immediately enchanted by her dark honey-colored hair, her bright blue eyes, her high cheekbones, and long dark lashes. Nothing in all his experience had prepared him for the reaction he’d had to her. He’d obviously been away at war and without the company of a woman for far too long. And like a complete idiot, for a moment, a horrible, confused moment, he’d actually wondered if she was Penelope.
Fool. Of course she wasn’t Penelope. His memory of Penelope was of a stout, short young woman with dark curls, dark eyes, and a bit of a turned-up nose. No. The blond woman had not been Penelope. He didn’t even know why he’d said it. It was nonsense. Or perhaps it had been desperate hope.
Worse, for a crazy, haphazard moment, one that had made his heart nearly beat out of his chest, he’d wondered if the beauty was … Cassandra.
Hunt’s butler pushed open the door in front of him and showed Julian into his closest friend’s study, tearing Julian from his thoughts.
Derek Hunt sat behind a huge mahogany desk. As soon as he saw Julian, he tossed down his quill, stood, and strode around the desk to greet him.
The butler bowed and took his leave, just before Hunt clapped Julian soundly on the shoulder. “Swift,” Hunt said. “I cannot tell you how good it is to see you safe and sound and back on English soil.”
Julian returned his friend’s embrace. “Thanks to you.”
“Nonsense.” Hunt gestured to Julian to take a seat in front of the desk in a large leather chair. Hunt scrubbed a hand through his dark hair and eyed his friend carefully. His face was grim. “I never got over having to leave you after the battle.”
Hunt had seen Julian ensconced in a makeshift hospital outside of Waterloo before he’d been forced to follow orders to return to England immediately and report to the War Office.
“You had a job to do,” Julian replied. “I would’ve done the same.” He meant that. Hunt had done everything he could have for him at the time. Hunt had saved his life. Hunt had frantically searched for him after the battle and when he’d found Julian lying on the field, he’d leaped from his mount and pressed his own kerchief to Julian’s wounds to staunch the flow of blood from the bullet that had torn through his chest.
Julian took a deep breath. It was difficult to think about even now. He’d been certain he would die that day. They both had. What Hunt didn’t know, however, was that Julian had wanted to die that day. Intended to. Planned on it. And so he’d made Hunt promise him something, promise him to return to England and marry his good friend Cassandra Monroe.
“Did you arrive in town today?” Hunt made his way over to the sideboard.
“I did. This afternoon.”
“And was this your first stop?” Hunt asked, splashing brandy into two glasses.
“No,” Julian replied. “I went to the Monroes’ house first.”
Hunt lifted both glasses and turned to face his friend, a furrow in his brow. “Cassandra’s?”
“No.” Julian shook his head. “Penelope’s.”
Hunt crossed over the thick rug and handed Julian one of the glasses. “Ah. The woman you’re bound to marry?”
“Not precisely. Not yet. Hopefully not ever.”
Hunt resumed his seat behind the desk and gave Julian an inquiring stare. “Not ever? What do you mean?”
Julian took a long swallow of his drink. “I’ll tell you something, Hunt.” He stopped and grinned. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
Hunt waved away the honorific. “There will be none of that between us. You’re practically my third brother.”
Julian nodded. “I’ll tell you something. When you think you’re dying, you take a long, hard look at your life. I made some important decisions while I was recuperating. I thought a great deal about my future over there.”
Hunt arched a brow. “Sounds like it. And your future doesn’t include Penelope Monroe?”
“No. I must speak with her as soon as possible and let her know. She wasn’t home today.”
Hunt took a long swallow. “There’s something I have to tell you, Swift.”
Julian eyed him carefully. “That you didn’t marry Cassandra?”
Hunt nodded once. “How did you know?”
Julian smiled again. “For one thing, Cassandra wrote to me and told me, and for another, I see a ring on your finger.”
Hunt laughed a long, loud laugh. “I did my best with Cassandra, believe me. But she was entirely uninterested in me. It seems she—” Hunt hesitated, then he shook his head. “It seems she is in love with another man.”
Julian’s breath caught in his throat. He narrowed his eyes on Hunt. “Cassandra’s in love with someone? She never mentioned that in her letters.”
Hunt coughed into his fist and glanced away. “Be that as it may … she rejected me quite thoroughly.”
“And in the meantime, Cassandra and Jane Lowndes, and everyone else realized that you were perfectly suited for their friend Lucy.”
“Yes, Lucy Hunt now, my duchess.”
Julian raised his glass. “Congratulations, my friend, and very best wishes to your new bride.”
“I’d introduce you to Lucy but she’s gone out to visit with friends this afternoon.”
“Another time, then. I look forward to it.”
Hunt let out a long breath. “You don’t want to pound me to a pulp, then?”
“No.” Julian smiled. “I asked you to marry Cassandra when I thought I was dying. Everything’s changed now.” He glanced away, out the window, watched a coach rumble down the dusty street. Everything’s changed.
Hunt cleared his throat. “Which has led to your decision about Penelope?”
Julian pulled himself from his thoughts. “Precisely.”
“I see. Have you gone to visit Cassandra yet?” Hunt asked.
“No. I intend to go there next.” Julian shifted in his chair. “Which brings me to the other reason for my visit.”
Hunt nodded. “Which is?”
“Have you heard anything more about Donald?” Julian asked.
Hunt rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Damn it. We were trying to keep you from knowing about that.”
“I know. When your brother came to see me in hospital, he would barely mention it. I had to pry the smallest b
it of information out of him.”
“Collin and I didn’t want you to worry. We wanted you to concentrate on recovering.”
“I understand,” Julian replied. “But now I need to know. Do you know anything more?”
“Unfortunately, no. According to the War Office, Donald and Rafe are still missing in France. I’m leaving for Bristol soon for a debriefing on the latest and hope to learn more. Wellington finally agreed. Collin and I are returning to the Continent to search for them.”
Julian shook his head. “I tried my damnedest to get Wellington to allow me to stay on the Continent and help search.”
“You nearly died, Swift. You deserve to be back home. Rest.”
Julian clenched his jaw and glanced out the window again. “I’ve been resting for months.”
“It was that or permanently rest six feet under.”
Julian bowed his head. “He’s my brother, Hunt.”
“I know.”
And Hunt did know. His own youngest brother, Adam, had been with Donald and their friend Rafferty Cavendish on the Continent. But they hadn’t been in battle. They had been doing something far more dangerous … spying on the French. Why his steadfast brother would agree or even attempt to be a spy, Julian had no idea. At this point he had more questions than answers.
Hunt’s second brother, Collin, had already led one trip to the Continent where he’d managed to locate Adam and bring him back to London, but Rafe and Donald were still missing. Apparently, Wellington had finally consented to allow Derek and Collin to return for another look.
“I’m coming with you,” Julian said. “As soon as Wellington approves my latest request.”
Hunt cracked a smile. “Not a chance. You just returned. You’ll stay here. Enjoy yourself a bit. I’ll write and keep you informed. You have my word.”
“Thank you for that,” Julian said softly. “I still wish I knew why the hell Donald would have volunteered to be a spy. Why would he have risked his life to go over there like that?”
“You mean because your father’s dead and Donald’s an earl and he has no heirs?”
“Especially because my father’s dead and Donald’s an earl and he has no heirs. That and the fact that I wasn’t expected to return, either. There’s only Donald, and Daphne, and me. I don’t understand why he would take that risk.”
“I don’t know, either, but I did learn that he volunteered.”
Julian’s gaze snapped to Derek’s face. “Volunteered? Why would he do that?”
“The War Office was looking for someone like him, a member of Parliament, the House of Lords. They wanted someone no one would suspect, someone who merely appeared to be traveling through. Uninvolved.”
“But Donald’s not cut out to be a bloody spy. We both know that.”
“He had Rafe with him.” Hunt cleared his throat. “He still does. Rafe’s one of the best. If there’s any chance of survival, Rafe will have found it. Trust me, Swift.”
Julian stood and paced over to the window, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Damn it, Hunt. I should be the one still in France, not Donald. Only you wouldn’t be looking for me, you’d be looking for my grave.”
Hunt’s voice was sharp. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Julian shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve already asked Wellington to reconsider and then—”
“I can’t allow you to come with us,” Derek said, his voice taking on the tone of the war general Julian had known in battle. “You know that. Your orders are to stay here for now.”
Julian clenched his jaw. “Yes, for now. But if you don’t find anything—”
“We’ll talk about that if and when the time comes.”
Julian nodded reluctantly. He intended to change that, of course. Get new orders. Hell, ignore his orders if he had to. Donald, his brother, the boy who was raised to be earl, couldn’t be lost in France. He just couldn’t be. His father would be spinning in his grave.
Julian prayed to God that Derek and Collin would find them. If anyone could, it was the capable Hunt brothers. Julian would stay here for now, just as Hunt had said. And if he must stay in England and pretend to be enjoying himself, he would settle things with Penelope Monroe first.
“Will you be staying at Donald’s town house?” Hunt asked. “If not, you’re welcome to stay here.”
Julian leaned back in his chair. “No, actually. I’m going to the countryside. To Surrey.”
“Surrey? What’s in Surrey?”
“When I went to visit Penelope this afternoon, I was told she was on her way to a friend’s country house party there.”
Hunt arched a brow. “Seems odd. She’s left town knowing you were coming?”
“Apparently she left before she received my letter informing her that I’d be here this afternoon.”
“Damn the luck.”
Julian smiled slightly. “Yes, well. I’m going to follow her there. We cannot become engaged. She needs to hear it from me in person. It’s only right. The sooner I speak with her the better, and if I can’t go with you and help you find Donald, at least I can do right by Miss Monroe.”
Hunt nodded. “I wish you well, Swift. How long will you be gone?”
“The house party is for a sennight and as luck would have it, I’ve been invited. I’m not certain how long I’ll stay, however.” Not that he’d mind being in Patience Bunbury’s presence for a bit.
“What do you plan to do after that?”
Julian met his friend’s stare. “I intend to travel to France and help you find Donald and Rafe.”
Hunt squinted. “I’m to be gone for a fortnight. I hope to hell I find them, Swift, and that it’s all settled by the time you return from Surrey. I’ll see you back here in London in two weeks’ time. One way or another, I intend to have news.”
Julian returned to his seat and tossed back the rest of his brandy. They both knew Hunt might well be on a mission to find Donald’s and Rafe’s bodies. Julian couldn’t think about that now. He wouldn’t think about it now. He stood and shook his friend’s hand. “Good luck and safe travels.”
Hunt walked him to the front door. “I look forward to introducing you to Lucy. She’s a spitfire to be sure, a troublemaker, some would say, but her heart is very much in the right spot.”
Julian raised a brow. “A troublemaker?”
“As troublesome as she is beautiful, I’m afraid,” Hunt added with a laugh. “I’ll have to tell you some of the stories about her antics when she was trying to dissuade me from my courtship of Cassandra.”
Julian laughed. “It sounds as if Her Grace is someone I’m quite looking forward to meeting.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The devil on Cass’s shoulder had won. It was that simple. The devil came to her sometimes, the pesky little beast, after their first meeting on her sixteenth birthday. How well she remembered his awful insistence that day. His advice had been surprising, to be sure, and ultimately futile. But in the matter of Lucy and the fictitious house party, in the end, Cass had listened to the horrible little fiend. From his perch on her shoulder, he had enticingly told her she might have a bit of fun at a house party with Julian, regardless of the outcome and the hopelessness of the entire situation. Oh, she had doubts, scores of them, worries and doubts and outright anxiety, but she’d managed to push it all aside and pretend.
Pretend. That’s what Lucy said they were doing. It was a lark, like acting in a play. And they so adored plays. The servants would pretend, too. Lucy had simply told them all that they were having a sort of playacting house party, something like a masquerade, but without the feathers and dominoes. Lucy could be so persuasive.
“Haven’t you been telling me that you want to change? Be different? Stand up to your parents more?” Lucy had prodded, knowing exactly how to prod. “Now’s your chance. Be bold! Do the things you’ve never imagined you could do. You’ll surprise yourself, I’m certain of it.”
She’d surprise herself? Cass had lik
ed the sound of that. She’d spent her childhood and young adulthood following every rule to the letter. She’d painted and sung, and played the pianoforte. She’d curtsied and danced and said all the right things to all the right people. She’d been demure as if she invented demureness. She’d listened to her mother and father, been kind and understanding to her older brother. She’d asked after all the servants, seen to all of her friends, and now, now, just what if it was her time? Her time to be a bit scandalous, her time to finally break a rule or two instead of just daydreaming about doing it.
“For the next sennight, you are Patience Bunbury,” Lucy had announced. And somehow that had given Cass permission to go ahead and break rules. She wasn’t demure Cassandra Monroe any longer, she was Patience Bunbury and she’d already decided … Patience Bunbury was quite wicked indeed.
And so Cass had jotted off a letter to Pen, informing her that she’d done just as her cousin had asked and told Captain Swift that Pen was attending Patience Bunbury’s house party. Cass just happened to leave out the part that she herself was en route to that same house party and, oh, pretending to be Patience, as well. Instead, she’d told Pen that she and Lucy were retiring to the country for a bit. Cass had been certain lightning would strike her as she’d written the letter. It was dreadful of her to continue to lie, first to Julian, now to Pen. But that pesky little devil didn’t care.
“Pen started it,” Lucy had pointed out with a shrug. That had only served to make Cass feel all the more guilty. That was absolutely no excuse. Was it? Oh, there was that blasted devil again.
Cass traced her finger along the windowpane of the coach as she and Lucy traveled to the countryside. They bounced along in the duchess’s new, resplendent vehicle, Cass trying not to bite at her fingernails every time she so much as thought of what she was traveling into: a giant falsehood.
The grand estate of the Earl of Upbridge, Lucy’s father, was settled in the quiet countryside of Surrey. A sense of calm settled over Cass when the manor house finally came into sight. She had grown up here in a sense. Her parents’ estate was less than three miles away. She sat up straight and gulped. “Lucy, what if my parents get word of this house party and decide to pay a visit to your parents?”
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