He searched her face. His eyes scoured her body from head to toe. For an aching moment, she felt his pain, his shock, his… anger. “Cassandra?” he whispered brokenly. “You’re Cassandra?”
“Wait a moment, did she tell you she’s Patience?” Penelope demanded.
Julian didn’t take his eyes from Cass. “Yes.” The one word echoed across the foyer, bouncing off the marble columns and slapping Cass across the face.
“Who in heaven’s name is Patience Bunbury?” Cass’s mother demanded next.
Penelope plunked her hands on her hips. “She’s my very close friend who does not exist.”
A cacophony ensued then. All of the occupants of the foyer began shouting out questions and explanations and more questions. It escalated to a thunderous boil while Cass and Julian just stared at each other, silently. Cass’s chest ached. She couldn’t breathe and she desperately fought against the tears in her eyes. Julian watched her with a look that could only be described as… disgust.
And she couldn’t blame him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Two hours later, Julian was standing on the terrace, his hands in his pockets, his shoulder propped against a large marble column, staring out into the gardens.
He sensed rather than saw Cass’s approach. Then, he watched her advance out of the corner of his eye. She walked toward him slowly, quietly, deliberately.
He finally turned to face her. She was so pretty, so heartbreakingly beautiful. Cassandra. Cassie. The woman he’d been wondering about, the woman he’d been dreaming about. She and the ethereal Patience Bunbury were one and the same? It had been all he could think about for the last two hours, but still, he could hardly credit it.
He narrowed his eyes on her face. He was a fool. How could he have not known? Not guessed? She had Cassie’s same flaxen hair. Cassie’s same cornflower-blue eyes. He even saw Cassie in the tug of her smile and the tiny dimple that appeared. How in the hell had he not noticed that? Very well. It was true that Cassandra looked little like she had seven years ago, but still, she was there, inside this swanlike beauty. She was there. His gut wrenched. She was there and she had been lying to him this entire time.
She stopped a few paces away from him. She pressed her lips together and swallowed. “I know I cannot offer any explanation that will make this right,” she began. “But I wanted to… face you. And say”—she hung her head—“I’m sorry.”
Julian looked up, squinted at her, and then went back to staring off into the gardens. “I have only one question.”
She was fighting back tears. He’d seen it in the way she’d been blinking too rapidly, swallowing too often. He didn’t want to care. If he didn’t look at her, he wouldn’t.
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Why?” he asked through clenched teeth.
She reached for him but quickly snatched her hand away. Good thing. He wouldn’t allow her to touch him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around her middle and spoke quietly. “Oh, Julian. I could try and explain it all to you. But it’s just as inexplicable as I’m certain you’ve already guessed. If I told you why, it would merely sound as if I’m trying to blame Pen and she doesn’t deserve the blame.”
He pressed his lips together tightly. Cassie wasn’t even going to do him the honor of explaining why she had lied to him. “I can’t understand why you would lie about who you are, to me.”
Cassandra blinked up into the blue sky, tears slipping down her cheeks. She was obviously losing the battle not to cry. “I’m sorry, Julian. So sorry. I just wanted to… spend time with you.”
“And you couldn’t do that as Cassandra?” he said, an incredulous look on his face.
She swallowed again. “No,” she whispered brokenly.
He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “What about all the letters, the friendship we shared? Did that mean nothing to you that you could lie to me this way?”
She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I cannot explain myself. I only know that it made a little bit of sense to me at the time and… Oh, Julian, I’d do anything to take it back, to make it so that—”
He put up a hand. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“You didn’t recognize me when we first met.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “So it’s my fault?”
“No. No. Not at all.” She paced forward, then turned to face him. The tears flowed freely down her face now.
He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it with a small smile and a grateful sniff. “Always the gentleman,” she murmured. “The perfect gentleman.”
“I wasn’t last night. When I kissed you… or Patience… or whoever you are. But I interrupted you. You were saying?”
