Page 22

C assian dreamed of his father for the first time in years.

He woke near dawn in a cold sweat of confusion and terror.

He was at Hillcrest, and that realization alone made bile rise in this throat. But as the nightmare receded and reason took its place, he breathed deeply, reminding himself that he was no longer a child. And their unpredictable tormentor was buried miles away in the family plot.

As he scrubbed a hand over his face, the previous night came back to him. The misery of his dream was nothing to the pleasure of those moments with Daphne.

I won’t regret any of this in the morning.

Her words rang in his head, and he clenched the blanket in his hands.

Of course, he didn’t regret a single moment spent with her since the day they’d met, and certainly not last night. Even now, he wanted nothing as much as he wanted to find her and kiss her senseless.

But now, in the dawning light of morning, after just seeing his father’s rage-filled face in his dreams, he could not deny who he was.

Once, in his quarters in the belly of the Resolute , he’d startled so violently from a nightmare that he’d struck the wall with his hand, and ship’s surgeon had been called on to ensure he hadn’t broken it.

Could he risk sleeping next to Daphne when his night terrors might disturb her too? What if he struck out and harmed her?

As he washed and dressed, he wrestled with himself—his desire for her against his need to see her happy, well, safe.

Someone rapped on his door, and he opened it to find one of the footmen, Griggs, on the other side.

“Lord Windham requests you join him in his chamber, Captain.”

“Now?”

“Yes, Captain.”

Cassian made his way down the hall to the earl’s suite and strode inside to find Julian in a wingback, his leg elevated on a chair.

“Close the door,” he told him.

Cassian did, noting the unusually serious set of his brother’s features.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian crossed the room to sit on the wingback across from Julian’s.

Despite the weighty look in his brother’s eyes, Julian’s mouth edged up in a grin. “Tell me about your evening.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I wake every couple of hours from the pain. I heard you striding down the hall long after everyone else was abed.” Julian’s smile widened. “Or at least after I thought everyone else was abed. Though I heard another set of footsteps with yours.”

Cassian stared at the fireplace, watching the flames flickering there and considering what to admit. Above all else, he wanted to protect Daphne, but he also wanted to be done with lies.

“I know you never planned to marry…” Julian’s voice was tentative, quiet. “But you’d not yet met Miss Bridewell either.”

“You know the reasons I never wished to marry.”

“Because you preferred brief, meaningless liaisons with ladies who expected nothing more of you?”

Cassian winced and gripped the back of his neck. “In the past, yes, that’s what I preferred.”

“And now this young lady has altered you.”

Cassian ground his teeth and said nothing.

“Has she not?” his brother pressed.

After a curt nod, Cassian pressed his hands together, trying to put the storm inside him into words. “When I am with her, I’m different. All I want in those moments is to continue being that man every day of my life. For her. With her.”

Julian grinned and leaned closer. “Then marry her posthaste,” he whispered.

Cassian laughed, but it turned into a groan. “If only it was that bloody simple.”

“Why is it not?”

“You know why.”

Julian settled back into his chair again and crossed his arms. “Because you’re stubborn as hell?”

“That is only one of his qualities I inherited.” Cassian shot up from his chair.

“You’re not like him, Cass. I never understood why you thought you were.”

“We were apart for many years, Julian. You don’t know.” During his decade and a half in the navy, he and his brother had exchanged letters, but he’d rarely visited Hillcrest. Even during the many months when he lived ashore on half-pay, he preferred to keep away from the manor and its memories.

“And during that time you became a brutal, manipulative, destructive monster?” Julian asked in a wry tone, perfectly summing up their sire.

Of course, he hadn’t been that. But he’d been churlish, quick to anger, and he kept his finer feelings stifled under a tight control. That had eased during his years in Scotland, when he was on his own, without provocations or temptations. Loneliness had seemed a small price to pay for peace.

Now, he only seemed to know peace when he was with Daphne.

Though she provoked far more than that in him.

Feelings that terrified him, if he was honest. A wild desire that threatened to blaze beyond his control, a possessiveness that she’d find stifling if he gave it full reign, and a protectiveness that made him want to bludgeon men like Moreland, who dared to cause her a moment of unhappiness.

He had learned control because his emotions were too much otherwise. Though he was Julian’s twin, he’d never had his brother’s ability to treat things lightly.

“I will take your silence as agreement that you are not, in fact, our vile pater,” Julian said, sounding far too pleased with himself.

“Not him exactly, no, but he shaped me just the same.”

“As did our mother.”

Cassian arched a brow. His brother had once held as much bitterness toward their mother as their father. He felt she’d abandoned them to the earl’s abuse, but over the years he’d come to acknowledge that she herself had suffered too.

“I know you two had a special bond.” Julian gestured toward the window. “Beyond just a love for fussing over garden matters.” He squared his green gaze on Cassian. “You have her gentleness to temper his hardness. You have her patience. Her sense of loyalty.”

“You have those things too,” Cassian told him.

“If I was truly loyal, I never would have asked you to lie for me.”

Cassian shook his head. “You were smitten. I now know what it makes a man do.” He shot his brother a rueful grin.

“Do you now?” Julian’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Then, pray tell, what do you plan to do about it? You are, after all, a man of action, are you not, Captain?”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, pacing a line from the door to the fireplace. “It’s not as straightforward as you imply.”

Julian watched him for a moment and then heaved a long sigh. “Tell her of your worries and see what she says.”

“Expose her to that ugliness?”

“She’s not as fragile as you make her out to be.”

Cassian didn’t see her as fragile. He saw her as hopeful, bold, generous. Yet she’d also come from a large, loving family. How could she understand the twisted upbringing they’d had?

“I know you think I’m being fanciful,” Julian said, “but if there’s one thing I know, it’s you. And I can say with certainty that if you don’t try to overcome whatever is keeping you from embracing this lady, you’ll regret it forever.”

Cassian stopped his pacing and drew in a deep breath.

“With her, you could undo what he had and make a happy home, a loving family.”

Julian’s words sounded like an idyllic dream, not anything he could ever dare to reach for. Though for the first time in his life, part of him wanted to.

“You’re a brave man, Cass. Now prove it.”

“This isn’t a naval battle, Jules. It’s much more precious and comes with far greater risk.” He stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the rug beneath his boots. “What if I fail her? What if I hurt her?”

“You wouldn’t,” Julian insisted. “But more importantly, what if you gave up on this chance at love?”

Hillcrest’s butler, Mr. Bartlett, struck Daphne as a genuinely kind man.

He made certain she and her sisters felt at ease in the manor house and seemed to take special delight in the twins. Now, as Daphne and her sisters explored the manor’s library, he remarked on how much they reminded him of the Rourke twins when they were Marigold and Hyacinth’s age.

“Did they also like to read?” Daphne asked him.

“They did, Miss Bridewell. Reading was a bit of an escape for each of them, I believe.” He scanned the rows of books.

“As I recall, his lordship preferred stories of adventure like those of Sir Walter Scott, while Captain Rourke favored Shakespeare and history books and the occasional bit of poetry.”

“That seems odd,” Marigold opined. “Since Captain Rourke went off to have adventures in Her Majesty’s Navy, no doubt.”

“And Lord Windham was stuck being earl,” Hyacinth said, a bit of sympathy softening her tone.

Daphne smiled at Bartlett, whose silver brows had quirked up at Hyacinth’s comment. Their late brother had never looked forward to inheriting their father’s title, but Lord Windham might very well have seen it as a great honor to carry on his father’s earldom.

Bartlett approached the bookshelves and pointed out a few volumes clustered together. “These histories particularly intrigued the captain, and now I see one is a tome of Scottish history, which seems apropos.”

“Why?” Ivy asked.

“The captain now resides in Scotland,” Bartlett told her with a smile.

Marigold and Hyacinth exchanged a confused look.

“But he’s here in Berkshire, Mr. Bartlett,” Marigold said as if the man could have forgotten.

“Visiting, Miss Marigold, but I suspect he’ll head north again soon.”

Daphne nearly dropped the book she held. “How soon?”

Bartlett turned back to her, his brow furrowing as if with concern. As if he immediately recognized her distress. “When his lordship recovers, Miss Bridewell, which could be months from now.”

A shaky nod was all Daphne could manage in reply. Would he really retreat again? After last night?

“Where is Captain Rourke now?” Daphne couldn’t help but ask.