Bloody hell. If Derek wasn’t telling any news, he either didn’t know anything or it was bad. If Donald and Rafe were dead, Hunt would wait to tell him in person. Julian knew that. A knife twisted in his gut. He closed his eyes. It was Wednesday. He had an entire day to wait.
Tossing both letters onto the nearby desk, he scrubbed his hands across his face and finally allowed himself to think about the worst. Mama and Daphne hadn’t mentioned it, either, but he knew they must have been thinking about it, attempting to prepare themselves. If Donald was dead, Julian would be the earl.
He clenched his fist, slammed it against the bookshelf. The sturdy wood didn’t crack, but the books danced along the shelves. His knuckles ached. He stared at them. Blood dripped to the carpet.
Damn it all to hell. This was not the way things were supposed to be. This was not what he’d been born for. He’d never wanted the title, wasn’t meant for it. His father had been quite clear about Julian’s role and Julian had already failed at it once. Now.… If Donald didn’t return …
Julian clamped his jaw. Thank God his father wasn’t alive to see it. The old man would turn in his grave if he knew his beloved first son wouldn’t live to fulfill his role as the Earl of Swifdon.
Julian stared down at Hunt’s letter. Life is inexplicably unfair. His own words flared in his memory. That is what he’d learned in the war. He’d told Cassie that at the house party, hadn’t he? So damned unfair. It had been unfair that he’d kept Penelope on the hook all these years. It had been unfair of him to develop a deep friendship with a woman knowing he would not be coming home. It had been unfair of him to live, damn it. Yet he had Cassie to thank for that.
He glanced around the study. Never had he felt his father’s presence more than he did in this room today. The study of the Earl of Swifdon, his father’s room, Donald’s room. It was not a place for Julian.
God. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be standing here contemplating the idea that Donald might not be coming home. Julian needed something to keep his mind off things, his fears for his brother and his constant plaguing thoughts of Cassandra Monroe.
He turned toward the door to the study. Perhaps he’d go back to the club, the boxing hall, the— His gaze fell on the second letter that Pengree had given him. It lay on the desk half covered by Hunt’s missive. Julian did a double take. He slowly pulled it out and turned it around to get a good look. It was addressed to him from … Cassandra Monroe. He’d recognize that handwriting anywhere. He ripped open the seal, brought it closer to his face and stared at it, squinting. His brow furrowed. The date was … last July. How in the world—
He rang for Pengree.
The butler arrived moments later.
“Pengree?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“This other letter you gave me?” He held up the letter from Cassie and waved it at the butler.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Where did it come from?”
“The maids found it in the cushions of the sofa here in the study, yesterday.” He motioned toward the piece of furniture in question. “Apparently, it had been wedged between them.”
Julian scrubbed his hand across his forehead. “Thank you, Pengree.”
“My pleasure, my lord.”
The servant left the room and Julian stared at the envelope again. How did a letter from Cassandra with a date from last summer become wedged into the sofa cushions at his brother’s house in London? It made no sense.
Unless …
The night the duchess had come to visit came back to him in a rapid vision, a haze of pictures in his mind. She’d given it to him and she’d said something about it. What? What?
With his free hand, he pressed his fingertips to his temples, as if that would help him to recall.
God. He remembered now.
She’d said she’d hoped it would make a difference. A difference about what?
He glanced down at the opened letter. His gaze scanned the page. The parchment appeared to be … stained with tears? He eagerly began to read.
Dearest Julian,
I’ve just received word that you’re dying. I can hardly force myself to write that word. It’s awful. It’s ugly. And it breaks my heart. Yes, it breaks my heart because you’re my dear friend, my future cousin, but it also breaks my heart for another reason, one you may not have guessed. I was not certain I should write this letter, but Lucy has convinced me it is necessary. And so with a heavy heart, but one that is also full of love, I put my quill to this parchment to tell you something, Julian. To tell you how desperately I love you. Not as a friend loves another friend but as a woman loves a man. I’ve loved you since I was a girl. I know I have. I never told you for the reason that should be quite obvious, that you are meant for Penelope. My cousin is quite dear to me and I would do nothing to hurt either of you, you must believe that. But I cannot allow you to go to your grave, dearest one, without knowing how madly, passionately, desperately I love you. I’ve refused all offers for some mad reason, thinking that I couldn’t marry another man knowing he’ll never fully have my heart, as it has always and will always belong solely to you. I can only hope this letter will reach you before you leave this earth, my love. And that after reading it, you’ll know how much you have been truly loved. I will continue to write to you every day for the rest of my life, dear Julian. Whether it be in this life or the next that you shall read the letters.
Yours forever, with deepest affection,
Cassie
Julian read it twice more, just to make certain it said what he thought it said. Cassie? Loved him? And had since she was a girl? How was that possible? How had he not known? What the hell had Hunt been talking about then when he’d told him Cassie had loved another man?
Still clutching the letter in one hand, he strode over to the sofa and dropped into the seat.
Wait.
It all fell into place in one awful solid moment in Julian’s mind. It slid hard into his consciousness like the loading of a musket. The way Hunt had said it, coughed and looked away. It was him, Julian. If Lucy had known and encouraged Cassie to write the letter to him, then it stood to reason that Lucy had told her husband. Hunt had thought he was keeping Cassie’s secret when he didn’t supply a name.
Blast it all. It was him!
Dear God. How could he not have seen this before? He’d spent his whole life wanting to change who he was, erase himself. He’d grown up an unneeded second son. Even the woman he’d been supposedly engaged to didn’t want him or need him. He’d entered the army with a death wish but he was still alive.
Now because of this letter, it was finally clear to him. Cassie was the one constant, the one truth in his whole life. Cassie loved him. She always had. How could he not have seen it in her letters, all of them until now? Why had it taken this one to show him the truth? She may have lied to him but he could forgive her that sin. Her lie was nothing compared to the much greater truth of her love.
You can do it, Cassie had said. You can be the earl. You’re strong enough. You’re good enough. And he believed that now. Knew it. With Cassie’s love and acceptance, he could face anything, even his deepest fears. She loved him. She wanted him. She made him feel as if he was the only man on earth. And he adored her.
He shoved the letter into his inside jacket pocket, stood from the sofa and rang for Pengree. The butler soon appeared once more.
“Pengree, have the coach put to and brought round immediately.”
The butler nodded. “Certainly. Where will you be going, my lord?”
Julian turned to face the servant. “To Lady Cassandra Monroe’s house.”
Daphne stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, a knowing look on her face. “You’re too late.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Julian stopped short. “What do you mean?
“She’s probably already gone,” Daphne replied.
Julian stared at his sister and blinked. “Cassie’s not the
re?”
Daphne shook her head. “She was planning to leave today.”
Julian clenched his jaw. A mixture of anger and fear congealed in his chest. “Where is she going?”
Daphne strode past him into the study. “I suggest you shut the door.”
Pengree, a wide-eyed look on his face, quickly took himself off to summon the coach.
Julian pulled the door closed and turned to face his sister. “How do you know Cassandra is leaving?”
Daphne took a seat on the sofa and watched her brother closely. Her arms remained crossed over her chest. “I know because I helped plan her escape.”
“Escape?” He took two long strides toward her and settled his hands on his hips. “What the hell are you talking about? I swear, if this is another one of your tricks like the other day in the park—”
Daphne rolled her eyes at him. “If this is another one of my tricks like the park then you’ll end up in the company of one Lady Cassandra Monroe. And unless I misunderstand, that’s exactly what you want this time, is it not?”
He couldn’t argue with that logic. “Don’t toy with me, Daphne,” he warned, narrowing his eyes on her. “What’s going on?”
Daphne flourished a hand in the air. “Cass wrote to me. She asked me to come over and help her. Jane Lowndes was there, too. You know, that Jane is quite intelligent. She had some wonderful ideas. Cass, I’m afraid, would make a terrible spy. A bit too high-strung for it.”
Julian fought the urge to grind his teeth. “Daphne, you’re making no sense. What are you saying? Where is Cassie? Why would she need to be a spy?”
Daphne laughed. “She wouldn’t, silly. I only meant that she’s not very adept at duplicity.”
Julian snorted. “You didn’t see her pretending to be Patience Bunbury.”
“It can’t have been easy for her,” Daphne replied with a wan smile.
“Where is she, Daphne?” he said, groaning.
Daphne had the grace to look a bit contrite. “I cannot tell you that as I am sworn to secrecy.”
Now he wanted to throttle her. “Fine, then, if you’re sworn to secrecy, why did you bother telling me she wasn’t at home?”
“She may not be at home. It depends entirely upon whether she’s left yet. And I told you because I didn’t want to see you waste your time, or a trip.”
“And…?”
“And nothing. I owe Cass a debt.”
“I won’t bother to ask what that means.”
“Probably for the best,” Daphne replied.
Julian stood in front of his sister, towering over her. He had to get whatever information he could out of her, anything that might help him to find Cassie. “You said you helped her plan her escape. Am I to assume she’s run away?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t have time for this. Tell me where she is.”
Daphne eyed him carefully. “Why do you want to know? The last I’d heard, you were angry with her. She said you refused her friendship in the park. What’s changed?”
Cursing under his breath, Julian pulled Cassandra’s letter from his pocket and waved it in the air. “If you must know, this is what’s changed. Cass wrote me a letter months ago telling me she loves me.”
Daphne’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, my,” she breathed. “I’d always suspected but that is … unexpected.”
Julian shook the letter. “Now will you tell me where she is?”
Daphne stood, crossed her arms over her chest again, and paced across the carpet, obviously deep in thought. “Hmm. I have always wanted to see the two of you together but I promised Cass I’d keep her secret.”
“Damn it, Daphne. I must see her. I must speak with her. Immediately.”
Daphne turned quickly to face him. “If I tell you, you must agree to two conditions.”
He blew out a deep breath. “Name them.”
“First, you must agree not to hurt her again. I won’t send you after her knowing you will upset her. She’s been through enough.”
“I won’t hurt her. I promise,” he ground out. “What’s the second condition?”
“I want a favor.”
He blinked at her. “What favor?”
“Ah, ah, ah. That is the complicated bit. I do not yet know what favor I want. Specifically, I want you to owe me a favor. One day, when I do something I ought not, you are going to be completely on my side, no questions asked. Agreed?”
“Not a chance. Name something else.”
Daphne delicately raised her chin in the air. “No. That’s what I want. Those are my conditions. They are not up for negotiation.”
Julian growled. “There are times when I swear I could throttle you, Daphne.”
Daphne shrugged. “If you throttle me, I won’t be able to tell you where Cass is. But there is absolutely no way I intend to tell you where she is until you agree to my terms.”
Julian glared at her. One thing was obvious. His sister knew how to drive a hard bargain. He’d pit her against the bloody French any day. She should be in Paris negotiating the treaty. “God help me,” he murmured, swearing savagely under his breath.
“Is that a yes?” She blinked at him innocently.
“Yes,” he ground out. And then, “Why do I have the distinct impression that I’m going to sorely regret this one day?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Julian pounded on the door to the Monroes’ town house. The wood bounced. The portal sounded as if it might come down. When Shakespierre, the butler, appeared, Julian brushed past the much shorter man. Daphne had told him all about Cass’s plans to leave for the convent. The Sisters of Perpetual Hope made their home far to the north just below the Scottish border. If she’d already left, he’d be forced to chase after her. But there was still the chance that he might be able to catch her before she left. He was counting on it.
“I must speak to Lady Cassandra immediately,” Julian declared. “Is she here?”
“May I take your coat, my lord?” the butler offered.
“No, you may not. I’ll wait here.”
The butler raised a brow but made his way down the corridor, ostensibly to find his mistress. Julian paced the foyer. Had he found her in time? Was she here? If she’d run away, he doubted she’d have informed the butler.
Cassie’s parents weren’t going to like this. Not one bit. But Julian didn’t give a bloody damn. Moments later, Lady Moreland came sweeping out of the back of the house, her face a mask of disapproval and anger. “Captain Swift, Shakespierre tells me you’re here to call upon Cassandra.”
Julian returned her harsh look. “I am.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” she replied with a tight smile.
“Cassandra’s not here?” he asked, his face heating, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. If that was true, he’d leave for the convent immediately.
“I didn’t say that. I said it’s not possible for you to speak with her,” Lady Moreland clarified.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Why not?”
Lady Moreland pushed her nose in the air and gave him an imperious look that clearly indicated she was not amused with his failure to turn tail and run. “Perhaps if you came back another time.”
She made as if to usher him out the door.
Julian didn’t move. “I intend to stay here until I see Cassandra. If she’s here.”
One blond-gray brow arched. The lady spoke through clenched teeth. “Captain Swift, do not force me to call my husband into this.”
Julian nearly laughed at that. Lord Moreland was in his sixties and quite heavy. Even though Julian was still recuperating from his war injuries, he was quite certain he could easily beat the older man in a fight, and he was more than prepared to do so if either of them tried to keep him from Cassie.
“I’m not forcing you to do anything, my lady. I’m merely stating a fact.” He gave her a tight smile. “I’m not leaving until I either see Cassa
ndra or evidence that she’s not here.”
Any semblance of nicety evaporated from the woman’s face. She turned her head sharply to the right. “Shakespierre, fetch Lord Moreland immediately, and bring two of the footmen back with you.”
Julian took a deep breath. Fine. If this was how she wanted it, this was how she was going to get it. No sixty-year-old lord and two young footmen were going to keep Julian from seeing the woman he loved.
He shot daggers at Lady Moreland with his eyes. “You might want to call the watch and the Bow Street runners while you’re at it, my lady, because I’m not leaving.”
Shakespierre took off into the back of the house again and Lady Moreland narrowed her eyes on Julian. “I cannot believe you’re acting in such a disgraceful manner, Captain Swift, but I suppose I should not be surprised.”
He placed both hands on his hips and faced her. “What is that supposed to mean?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at him. “You’ve never had quite the quality that your brother does.”
If she’d slapped him, she couldn’t have hit her mark any better. Something told Julian that she knew that, too. But he was done living in his brother’s shadow.
He glared at Lady Moreland. He refused to let her ruffle him. “And you’ve never had quite the pleasant kindness of your daughter, my lady. I have often wondered how you produced such an exquisite creature.”
Lady Moreland gasped. “How dare you!”
Lord Moreland and the two footmen came hurrying into the foyer with Shakespierre just then. Lord Moreland was out of breath from the exertion.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Moreland demanded.
Julian stepped forward. “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, my lord.”
Both Lord and Lady Moreland looked as if they might faint or have an apoplectic fit, perhaps both.
“What? What? What?” Lord Moreland clasped his lapels, his jowly face turning redder by the moment.
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