I still cannot believe that he never mentioned Marta to us.
In the dress, Marta glowed rather than looked sickly. It helped that the curtains in the West Tower had been pulled back, allowing the sun’s rays to illuminate its often-hidden inhabitant.
“He will notice that his sister looks healthy and as beautiful as she has always been,” Juliana replied, approaching Marta to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I believe that while hefears the world will hurt you once more, he wants his sister back to how she was. It is time to lay the ghosts of the West Tower to rest. You take it at the pace that is comfortable for you. I do not want to scare you. I never wanted to hurt you.”
“There are many things Cassian is afraid to admit. I suppose we are quite alike in that regard,” Marta said softly, facing Juliana. Her eyes were so like Cassian’s, but softer and kinder. The sister had always been more forgiving but needed support returning to the world of the living. “You have changed my brother, Juliana, in more ways than one. I know you mean well. I believe you when you say you never wanted to hurt me. Cassian now walks differently. He has always had confidence, yes, but with you, he seems more willing to carry his pain. His limp no longer feels like much of a burden because he knows you have accepted him fully. I never thought a Hawthorne could bring that much joy to this house, but here we are.”
“I would like to believe that we have both decided to leave the past in the past. We would like to move on,” Juliana offered. She felt her cheeks flush. Her sister-in-law’s approval meant the world to her.
“That is a splendid idea,” Marta agreed, her gaze sweeping the room and landing on her sketchbook. Juliana followed her gaze and noticed she had drawn in color this time, not jagged, angry, melancholy lines. “I have been thinking a lot these past days, and I want to try to be braver. Hiding has destroyed my chances of being part of society. Even though it is not society I care so much about, I like the idea of becoming normal. I want to live. I want to feel springtime outside, smell the roses from the gardens, and dance at balls without thinking I am escaping what I deserve.”
“You have not committed a crime,” Juliana reminded her. “You should be out there whenever you want to be.”
The door swung open, and Cassian stepped in. He paused at the door, his jaw dropping. His knuckles turned white from gripping the head of his cane. His perpetual scowl, the one he had been gracing Stonevale with, was gone as he took in his sister in her new gown. Pride was etched on his features. Juliana had to look away, but she felt deep pleasure in being able to contribute to her husband’s look of awe.
“Marta,” he breathed. “You look like Mother.”
“Do I, Cassian?” Marta asked, as she crossed the room to meet her brother halfway.
Her steps might still be hesitant, but her feet no longer dragged. She took his hand, acting as the caregiver rather than the other way around. “I look like a Cavendish, Cassian. More like Father. But I know what you mean. I favor Mother in many ways, and I want to be more like her. I want to start acting like an active participant in this family. I want to join you for tea and breakfast. However, I would rather take my dinners up here. For now.”
Cassian bent slightly to kiss his sister’s forehead. “You may have your dinner wherever you like in Stonevale, as long as you are happy. I want to keep seeing that smile.”
He looked over his sister’s shoulder to see his wife. Juliana’s breath hitched at the look of gratitude and adoration he gave her. It was a thank-you. She almost felt guilty about some of her self-preserving reasons for trying to get Marta smiling again. Of course, she had come to care for Cassian’s sister. She was the sister she never had, but now had.
The clock downstairs struck the hour. For a moment, Juliana panicked, wondering whether the magic would dissipate.Cassian quickly straightened as best he could, his body growing rigid once more.
“They are here,” he murmured, and it was immediately clear who he was referring to.
Juliana felt anxiety swirling in her belly and tightening her chest. She had spent days trying to calm and soften Cassian. She had used her charm to make this dinner possible, tumbling in their bed almost every night and almost all night long, and massaging his leg whenever he was in pain.
To be fair, everything she did could never be called a burden. She enjoyed every moment, making him feel good. Her body felt heavy with desire every time she saw him, and it felt just right to kiss his lips and ride his cock. Nobody was forcing her.
Now that the time had come, she was still gripped by fear. Yes, Cassian had kept his word to help Kit and had relented, inviting Kit over, but he was not happy about it. His face had been sour for days, as if he had eaten something rotten.
“Kit… Kit is here?” Marta’s voice trembled.
Juliana felt sorry for her. She did not want her sister-in-law to know, but she would find out eventually. They were supposed to be a family. No more secrets. No more ghosts.
She nodded.
“Is that wise?” her sister-in-law asked, frowning. “He is not the man I thought he was. And he…”
“Oh, he certainly is not worth being called a man at all,” Cassian agreed. “It was my fault for relying on him to care for you. For trusting him. However, he is Juliana’s brother. He has become my family, too, for better or worse. I may not like it, but tonighthe is a guest. He must behave himself accordingly, or God help him.”
Juliana hugged Marta to comfort her, then joined Cassian as they descended the stairs toward the grand dining hall. There, the Dowager Duchess was already waiting for them all, prepared to deliver her judgment from her seat to the right of the foot of the table, Juliana’s seat. Lady Hawthorne sat to the right of the head of the table, Cassian’s seat. The two looked unnaturally stiff, as if each were trying not to slap the other.
Kit was there, sitting across from his grandmother.
He no longer resembled the young man Juliana had been taught to look up to as a child. He was thinner and worn from a life of restless gambling in gaming hells, which had battered his soul more than war. He gripped his glass of what looked like whiskey. It was almost drained. His chin jutted out even as he wore an out-of-fashion coat. He had managed to hold on to his hollow pride, but he needed a drink to fuel it.
“Your Grace,” he greeted, rising briefly to bow. His throat clearly hurt with the effort of the words. “Juliana. I was surprised to have been invited here. Even more surprised not to have been shackled at the gates.”
“The night is young,” Cassian said pleasantly.
Kit’s eyes swept the table, taking inventory with the wariness of a man who has walked into a room expecting a trap. They lingered briefly on the empty chairs, and something crossed his face, quickly suppressed, quickly buried beneath the hollow pride that Juliana might have missed had she not been watching him so carefully.
He was looking for someone who was not there.
