Page 17

But he couldn’t bear to be idle, so every day, he’d made his way out to his mother’s overgrown, abandoned conservatory. He’d begun by clearing away debris, repairing what he could, and now he’d started to prepare the flower beds for seedlings.

“I’d thought to have the damned thing torn down.” Julian’s voice came from a distance as he used his crutches to maneuver toward the conservatory. “So why on earth are you determined to revive it?”

“I need something to do while I’m here.” Cassian looked over his shoulder at his brother. “Why do you want to destroy it?”

The conservatory had been a lovely thing. The ceiling soared, all high arches and vaulted iron. Once, it had been painted cream and light had poured through every pane in the mornings. As a child, it seemed the light caught every leaf's shimmer, every petal’s color.

Julian was breathing hard by the time he made it to the conservatory’s threshold. “She isn’t here to appreciate it anymore,” he said simply. “Seemed presumptuous to try to keep it up the way she did.”

Cassian stilled, then grabbed a rag and wiped his hands. “Then you think I should leave it?”

Julian tipped his head up and studied the high ceiling. “No, I think you’re the only person who could bring it back in a way that would please her.” He offered Cassian a smile, a little chagrined, a little sad. “You two spent time here together. I was more than a little envious.”

While their father had insisted Julian spend his time with tutors, or learning to ride, or fence, or shoot, Cassian had stolen away to the conservatory.

Their mother hadn’t always welcomed his presence, fearing their father might punish him for it.

But she’d soon seen it as something she could teach him—how to plant, weed, water, and trim.

How to train a vine, to deadhead flowers so that more would bloom.

She’d never seen the conservatory as a place for idleness.

She applied herself to it as passionately as their father had to his much more unsavory pastimes.

“Mother came here to distract herself,” Julian declared.

Cassian couldn’t disagree.

“So what are you distracting yourself from?”

Cassian narrowed an eye at his brother. “Let us not revisit this topic.”

Julian worked his jaw pensively. “Could a certain pretty blonde with blue eyes and a penchant for Kew Gardens be what requires so much distracting toil?”

Cassian groaned. He’d told his brother too much. Not at first. When he’d returned to Hillcrest, he’d focused only on his own failure to secure Selina’s favor on Julian’s behalf. He’d dropped the news of her engagement and given his brother time to digest the disappointment.

But then they’d drowned their sorrows in too much brandy—more than Cassian had consumed in years—and by the next morning, Julian had details about Daphne, the Bridewells, and a certain kiss in a moonlit garden that he did not recall divulging.

“Do you know why I won’t let this go?” he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Because you’re trying to drive me mad?”

“Not quite.” Julian used his crutches—he’d become quite adept with them—to enter the conservatory.

“Have a care.” Some of the tiles were cracked, though Cassian had cleared a path to the center of the structure.

Julian was aiming for a wrought-iron chair, but he waved Cassian off when he tried to help him into it. Finally, he settled hard on the seat and let out a sigh.

“I won’t let it go, brother dear, because of what you told me when you were in your cups.”

“Whatever I said was no doubt nonsense, and you must disregard it.” He winced at the memory of how his head and body had felt the next day. “Good God, I’m never drinking that much again.”

Julian chuckled. “Cass…you told me you loved her.”

Cassian’s heart knocked so hard against his ribs, he thought Julian surely must have heard it. His brother didn’t react as if he could, but Cassian heard the blood rushing in his ears.

“I knew Daphne Bridewell for all of four days, Jules. I doubt I would have proclaimed that I love her, no matter how soused I was.”

“You didn’t use the word itself,” Julian admitted, “but you spoke about her as if she was the most fascinating, lovely, desirable woman you’d ever met.”

Cassian dipped his head. All of that was undeniably true, but it didn’t matter. Because she was indeed all of those things, he wanted to see her far happier than he could ever make her.

“Yes?” Julian nudged, tipping his head to study Cassian’s face. “Suddenly tongue-tied, brother?”

“I hardly know her.”

His brother frowned and scratched his head. “What exactly does one need to know about another before falling in love? Is there a set of requirements that I’m unaware of?”

“You’re not going to bait me.”

“I fell in love with Selina the night I met her.”

Cassian said nothing. It wouldn’t do to point out his brother’s quick recovery after learning of Selina’s engagement. Perhaps Julian dealt with heartbreak as he did everything else in life—with a lightness that allowed him to return quickly to high spirits.

On the other hand, when Cassian imagined receiving word of Daphne’s engagement, his gut twisted into a painful knot and he yearned to be on a ship, sailing to the opposite side of the globe.

Then he reminded himself that caring for Daphne meant wanting what was best for her more than his own heart’s selfish desire for her.

“Pretend you can go back to living like a brooding, solitary hermit if you like.”

That was exactly what he damn well intended.

“But I know you better than you think I do, brother,” Julian added cryptically. “Now, come back to the house with me. Cook has made your favorite warm blackberry charlotte with custard. She’ll be vexed if we don’t partake soon.”

Cassian dusted off his hands and laid his gardening tools aside. “I suppose when it comes to my stomach, I can be baited.”

“Don’t worry,” Julian said as he got to his feet and shot him a mischievous grin. “I’ll let you get back to distracting yourself and definitely not thinking of a pretty blonde soon enough.”

Cassian clapped him on the shoulder and then strode side by side with him back to the house.

His twin was right about one thing—the conservatory had proved to be a blessed distraction. But it didn’t stop Daphne Bridewell from invading his thoughts. He’d begun to suspect nothing, for the rest of his life, would ever distract him enough to dim his memories of her.