“I did not push her,” Juliana cried, feeling her eyes sting with tears. “I do not know what caused her to flee. She had been doing so well these past few days, Cassian. You should have seen her. She was so happy!”
“You do not know anything, Juliana. All you follow are your little plans and Hawthorne hunches. Start thinking beyond what you are feeling and for once see that—”
“That what?” she interrupted. “That you chose to lock your own sister up? She is crying and cannot cope because she has not been out of the West Tower for so long.”
“I know it is my fault! I know that everything that has happened to her wasmyfault!” he raged, shocking her with his vehemence. “I have spent five years trying to build something that might resemble a peaceful life for her within these walls. And tonight, it took one careless word to undo it. So do not stand there and tell me what I already know!”
“Enough,” the Dowager Duchess said, bringing her cane down against the rug with a crack that brooked absolutely no argument. “Cassian, you will lower your voice. You are a Cavendish, not a fishmonger.” She turned her gaze to Juliana, her expression at once sympathetic and reproving. “And you, my dear, might reflect on the wisdom of charging headlong into waters you do not yet know the depth of.”
“From what I am hearing, my granddaughter was merely trying to help,” Lady Hawthorne protested. “But I must admit, Juliana, you were always quite meddlesome.”
“With respect, Honoria,” the dowager said, in a tone that contained very little respect at all. “You are the reason my granddaughter fled the room, so perhaps this is not your finest moment for commentary.”
Her grandmama opened her mouth and closed it again, which in Juliana’s experience was something of a miracle.
“Neither of you is helping the situation,” Cassian said to the two older women. “Nothing can help my sister now.
Cassian looked terribly hurt, but it was too late for Juliana to undo what she had done or take back her words. She had wanted to heal the Stonevale household, only for her to reopen old wounds that might never close again.
But does Kit have to do with it?
Chapter 20
The rain drummed against the manor’s glass, mirroring the mood Cassian was in.
He groaned.
He sat in his high-backed leather chair, but he was not comfortable. The pain was hot and white at his hip, coiling and rippling down his leg. Even as he rested the leg on a velvet ottoman, it was clear it was no dull ache. Still, he tried not to reach for the brandy. At times like these, when there seemed to be no reprieve from pain, it was better to grasp for clarity.
I have failed to protect Marta again.
Marta’s face—the horror and despair—still haunted his mind. He had spent years solidifying the fortress around her, and it was not only the physical that mattered. Her mind needed to forget, and Juliana had undone his years of hard work in a few days.
Even though her intentions were pure, she—
The door creaked, and he felt a presence. Her presence. It was unmistakable. She was not the sort who wore strong perfumes,cloying ones like the London ladies who used to preen and flirt with him, but her scent of violets awakened things in him that had lain dormant for years. He had used his arrogance as a shield against women like her.
Women like her? There could be nobody else like Juliana. She was more dangerous than most in her stubborn earnestness.
“I was not to be disturbed,” he grumbled, even as his chest tightened. His breaths required effort, each one triggering another spasm in his leg.
Days had passed since the ill-fated dinner, but he was not prepared to talk to Juliana. He was not certain how to feel about her. She was a Hawthorne after all. Perhaps he was never meant to marry her. Thoughts of revenge were never meant to bring forth any good. The contract was not achieving its original aim of revenge; instead, he sank even deeper into the strain of the situation.
Kit might have inflicted wounds on my family, but Juliana will be the death of me.
“Nobody else was willing to argue with you,” Juliana began, walking toward him as if she had not ruined the peace he had cloaked his sister in. Her blue eyes inspected the room until they fell on his grip on the arm of the chair. “Therefore, I had to take on the task myself.”
He looked down and saw that his knuckles were white.
He did not realize how much he was gripping the wood to ease the pain.
“You are in pain,” she breathed, her eyes softening. Her voice had lost its edge, and he would rather have her shout at him andaccuse him of things than… this.
Cassian did not want Juliana to pity him. He had spent years with the injury without having to sit down and talk with anyone about this particular mad business.
“Yes, I am,” he admitted. “But it is not just this leg, Juliana. There is more to it. The darkness in this house does not begin and end with this leg. The pain of seeing my sister go down the path of self-destruction, followed by seeing her recover by imprisoning herself. Now you—”
“I destroyed her peace. Is that what you wish to say?” she choked out, her hand reaching for her throat.
