The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(18)

Donald.

Julian took a deep breath. He and his brother had not been close. Donald was several years older than he and had been raised to be an earl. When Donald wasn’t away at school, he was spending time with their father. It had always made Julian envious. How he craved his father’s attention and approval for one day, one hour, one minute, even. Daphne had always been close to Mother and that had left Julian alone, alone and unnecessary, a spare to an earldom that didn’t require a spare. Father had made that clear enough.

Julian shook his head. None of that mattered now. Not at the moment. He’d done as he was told, gone off to the army, off to war. And in all those long, lonely days and nights, he’d looked forward to Cassandra’s letters. Waited for them each time the mail arrived, and while other soldiers were often disappointed to find that the call came and went with nothing for them, Julian could always rely on Cassandra. She never failed him.

“I heard that Lady Cassandra’s parents are ever so unhappy with the fact that she rebuffed the Duke of Claringdon’s advances,” Daphne offered from her perch at the writing desk.

“Yes, but anyone could see that the duke and Lady Lucy make a much more matched pair,” his mother said. “Still, I can understand their disappointment.”

Julian laughed. “Derek told me himself that he did his best to win Lady Cassandra.”

“It’s true,” Daphne added. “Though he never truly had a chance at winning her heart.”

Julian frowned. What did his sister know about it? “Why do you say that?”

Daphne’s lips turned up at the corners in a whisper of a smile. “Oh, there’s only one gentleman Lady Cassandra is interested in and he’s been, ahem, quite unavailable.”

Julian sat forward and braced his elbows on his knees. There it was again. Just as Hunt had said, Cassandra Monroe was in love with another man. That’s why she’d refused Hunt. But who was this man? And when had it happened? None of Cassandra’s recent letters had mentioned a man. Well, any man other than Derek and Garrett … Upton. Upton? Could it be Upton?

Why did the thought of Cass with another man make Julian’s chest hurt? It made no sense. He shook his head. No matter. Whoever the chap was, he had better be good enough for her. That was all. Cassandra was loving and kind. She deserved to be happy. He wanted only the best for his closest friend. She meant a great deal to him. So much that when he believed he was dying, his first thought hadn’t been for himself or even Penelope. No. It had been for Cassandra. Hunt had been there, his face a stone mask, trying his damnedest not to look as if he knew his friend was already dead. He’d pressed his kerchief against the flow of blood from the bullet that had torn through Julian’s chest. Hunt had clenched his fist and his jaw and Julian had known right then that his friend would do anything he asked. His dying wish. What had it been? Hunt had already promised to tell his mother and Daphne in person, let them both know how much Julian loved them. That would be taken care of, no question. That day on the blood-soaked battlefield, he’d made Hunt promise to return to London and marry Cassandra. Julian had known from her letters that she was still unmarried. She needed someone, someone good, someone strong, someone who would take care of her and treat her well. Hunt was the perfect candidate. Or so Julian had thought.

“Whoever he is, he’s a lucky man,” Julian said, absently rubbing a hand through his hair.

“And you haven’t even seen her yet,” Daphne said under her breath.

Julian glanced up and narrowed his eyes on his sister. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing,” Daphne replied, turning back to her letter.

Julian leaned back in his chair. It didn’t matter. He wished Cassandra well in her match, but marriage was the furthest thing from his own mind. He intended to put an end to his almost engagement and then go in search of his brother. Fate had intervened and made a mess of things. His brother was on the Continent in harm’s way and Julian was here, safe in London. He needed to right that wrong.

Julian looked across the room at his mother and his sister. He hadn’t informed them of his intentions of ending things with Penelope. Better to do it first and then explain afterward. But he knew what he had to do. The weeks of recovery had taught him something he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t live his life as a lie. Marrying Penelope would be a lie. His sense of honor had warred with his gut instincts, but in the end, he knew he must put an end to their agreement. He didn’t even know Penelope, certainly didn’t love her. He hadn’t been thinking about her as his blood seeped into foreign soil. No. He’d been thinking about Cassandra, Cassandra whom he only remembered as a young girl. She’d asked him for a kiss for her sixteenth birthday. He smiled at the memory. She’d been a scrawny little thing, all arms and legs, knees and elbows, but she’d certainly had the potential to turn into a beauty. Perhaps not one as gorgeous as, say, Patience Bunbury, but a good-looking young woman just the same. What did Cassandra look like today? Once he arrived in Surrey, perhaps he’d write to his friend Owen, Cassandra’s older brother, and see if he was in residence in the country, too. It would be good to see both siblings again.

Julian’s first goal was to find Pen and end things. His second goal had been to find Cassandra and … what? See her? Thank her? Tell her that she’d changed his entire life? It sounded idiotic in his thoughts. He could only imagine how it would sound in person.