The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(11)

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?”