The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(63)

He clenched his fist. “Do you intend to marry him?”

She glanced away, tears streaking down both cheeks. “My mother wants me to.”

He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “And you? Is that what you want?”

“Cassandra.” They both swiveled around to see Upton standing a few paces away, hands on his hips, glaring at them like a jealous bridegroom. “Are you all right?”

Cass nodded. “Yes, Garrett. I’m all right.”

“No need to check on her, Upton. She’s fine,” Julian ground out, wishing he could bury his fist in Upton’s face.

“She doesn’t look fine to me,” Upton replied, watching Cass carefully. “Do you need me, Cassandra?”

Julian took one menacing step toward Upton. The man needed only to say one more word. Julian had enough rage in him tonight to beat him to a bloody pulp. Cassandra brushed past Julian and stood in front of Upton, blocking him from Julian’s view. She’d just saved him.

“I’m fine, Garrett. Truly. Just give me a moment.”

Garrett. She was already calling him by his Christian name. Had she written him letters when he’d been gone to the war in Spain? Who wasn’t she writing letters to?

“Fine. I’ll wait for you over there,” Upton said, moving over to the doorway that led to the row where their box was situated. Julian let his fist relax, watching the man’s retreat. He’d better stay back.

Cass turned back to face Julian, brushing the tears away from her eyes with both hands. “Will you ever forgive me, Julian?” she asked in a voice that made his knees weak.

Will you ever love me, Cassandra?

He glanced away, toward the darkened corridor. “I don’t think I can.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX


Damn Daphne and her damn penchant for wanting to be in the middle of damn Society, the middle of the action, actually. Whatever that was. And tonight, apparently, it was the Marquis of Hillborough’s ball. Half of London was in the country for the autumn but the one event everyone was apparently coming back for was this blasted ball.

“Everyone will be there, Julian,” Daphne had cajoled, and since Julian had yet to hear back from Wellington one way or another, he gave in to his sister’s demand and escorted her to the ball.

The only good news was that Julian expected Derek back any day now. He hadn’t received any letters from his friend since the last one, but Derek had been given only a fortnight in which to find the other two men. The deadline was rapidly approaching and Julian waited on tenterhooks to hear from him. Perhaps, if this mission was unsuccessful, Wellington would approve of the two of them going back together. Julian could only hope.

“Why are you so grouchy?” Daphne asked, batting her long black eyelashes at him. His sister looked positively pretty sitting across from him in the coach. She wore a light green gown. Her blond hair was pulled up atop her head, her gray eyes—the ones that mirrored his own—blinking at him curiously. She was about as tall as one of the flag boys on the battlefield, but despite her small stature, her personality was bigger than life. Daphne had always been, ahem, wild, for lack of a better term. Oh, she knew all the rules of decorum and how to be the proper daughter of an earl. Only she went about deliberately breaking those rules with aplomb.

Once, she’d run away from home and been found down by the docks a fortnight later wearing breeches and pretending to be a boy. Donald had never managed to get out of her exactly what she’d been up to and as a family they’d managed to keep the scandal under wraps, but as a result, their mother was more than glad to have one of her sons back home to help her keep an eye on the girl. It was all Mother could do, she said, to keep Daphne from sneaking out her bedchamber window at night.

Julian had finally had a chance to ask his sister what she knew about Donald’s trip to France.

“Oh, come now, dear brother, I may be a female but I’m hardly stupid.”

Julian had smiled at that. His little sister was even more savvy than he gave her credit for. “I had a feeling Donald was up to something when he mentioned he’d be traveling with Captain Cavendish.”

“Rafe?”

“Yes. Rafe’s been working for the War Office for years,” Daphne replied.

“How did you know—?”

“What did I just say about not being stupid?”

Julian made a mental note not to underestimate his sister. Rafe Cavendish prided himself on his discretion and if Daphne had guessed what he was up to, she must be quite discerning, indeed.

Daphne folded her arms over her chest. “I could be just as effective a spy as Donald could be, you know. Better even, I daresay.”

“If you think for one moment, I’d allow you to—”

She held up a hand. “I know. I know. I’m a lady and a young one at that. How could I ever manage to do something as dangerous as working for the War Office?” She rolled her eyes.

Julian narrowed his eyes on his sister. The girl was too intelligent by half.

“Not to worry,” Daphne continued. “Donald’s secret is perfectly safe with me, as is Captain Cavendish’s, of course. Mama thinks they were merely carrying out some innocuous sort of parliamentary business. Nothing dangerous of course, and that’s exactly what I want her to believe. Until we get word.”