Almost.
The front doors flung open. Cassian had arrived earlier than expected, but the reality of him thundering through the halls was still intimidating. It was a declaration of war, and he had not quite reached them. Juliana braced herself for the impact.
He looked terrible, which she had not expected. His coat was wet and travel-stained, his hair disheveled, his face drawn with an exhaustion that went beyond the merely physical. He had been gone for ten days, and whatever he had found in London had not resolved itself cleanly. She could see it in the set of his jaw, in the darkness around his eyes.
His gaze was like burning coals as it moved from Juliana to his sister.
“What is this?” he asked, and his voice was very quiet, which was worse than shouting.
“Your sister is joining us for dinner,” Juliana said, keeping her own voice steady. “As she has every right to do.”
“I had forbidden—”
“Look at me, Cassian!” Marta urged, her voice trembling. Juliana did not know whether it was because she was afraid of him or simply because she was herself. What could not be denied was the pride in the quaver of her voice and the tilt of her chin. “I have managed to leave the tower, and I am well. Do you see me?”
He looked at her for a long moment. At the color in her cheeks, the set of her chin, and the purple silk she had chosen herself that afternoon.
“Yes, I can see you,” he said coldly.
Juliana could see that it was not just anger marring his features, but also fear. He was afraid for his sister. He was worried about her, and it made Juliana’s chest ache.
What had happened to Marta?
“Then sit down,” Marta said. “You look dreadful, and the beef is getting cold.”
Her heart went out to both siblings for whatever they had gone through. Cassian hobbled toward them, his limp more pronounced as he took his seat.
“Juliana, I had forbidden you to venture into the West Tower.”
“But why? You could have told me, Cassian,” she protested. “I would have helped you think of a way to have her join us, as she did today. Do you really believe that living away from the rest of the family is good for her?”
“You have no idea what you are getting yourself into.” The words came out low and controlled, but his palm came down hard on the table, making the cutlery jump. His grandmother pressed her lips into a thin line. “A fortnight of visits does not make you an authority on my sister’s condition. I have been living with thisfor years, Juliana.”
“It was my decision, Cassian,” Marta said softly. “Nobody forced me to go downstairs. I like Juliana. We have become friends, and I want to spend time with her here, too.”
“Oh, Cassian. You have come a long way, and you are here to fight with your wife at the dinner table,” the Dowager Duchess interrupted. “Do not be a bore. Let your sister live her life as she sees fit. She will return to the tower if and when she wants to.”
Cassian sighed. Then, he looked at his sister and smiled. It was a forced smile, tight and did not quite reach his eyes, but it was a smile. Juliana could see that he loved his sister enough to forget about today’s mishaps and disobedience, mostly hers. She wondered what it would be like to be a true object of his affection. She stifled her own sigh.
I want him to look at me like that.
She set down her glass and smoothed her skirts.
Foolish woman,she thought. Utterly, completely foolish.
The dinner finally continued into a calmer, even happier, version. Juliana could only hope that this would continue.
“You look better,” Cassian observed, possibly seeing the warm flush on his sister’s cheeks.
“Thank you. Juliana has been sneaking treats to the tower,” Marta said, with the particular satisfaction of someone implicating a co-conspirator. “Tarts, mostly. And lemon curd.”
“I am not surprised that she would do something like that,” the Duke remarked, giving Juliana a look that she could not read.
Then, the door opened once more.
Juliana heard it and set down her fork.
“It looks as though I have arrived just in time for dessert!” announced Juliana’s grandmama, appearing in the doorway in her best silk gown, with the air of someone who had been expected and was choosing to make an entrance.
