The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(62)

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.”