The Accidental Countess (Accidental #2)(75)

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.