Chapter 19 #2
“Oh, truly? Well, since I do possess the breeding that may compensate for your lack thereof, do come in and join us for dinner, Honoria. We will endeavor to stretch the beef to accommodate an uninvited guest!”
“You are too kind,” Lady Hawthorne said, in a tone that suggested she found her anything but, and settled herself into the nearest empty chair with the satisfaction of someone who had won on points.
The formality had returned, and Juliana could already guess that the whole evening would end in more destruction, just as Cassian had accepted her and Marta’s efforts for what they were.
“My dear granddaughter, I was passing by to talk to you about something important, only to be told that there was to be a dinner party.”
“How on earth did you know that?” Juliana demanded.
“Quite frankly, I wonder if Lady Hawthorne might have seen my carriage heading this way,” the Dowager Duchess commented with a sniff of her nose. “It would not surprise me if she followed me like a stray dog.”
“How dare you! Why would I come here because of you?”
“I simply cannot believe dear Juliana is related to you and your worthless—”
“My what? You cannot even say Kit’s name without having an apoplexy!”
Marta’s fork clattered on her plate.
The sound it made against the china was very small.
But Juliana was watching, and she saw the color drain from Marta’s face in a single, sweeping instant.
She saw her eyes fix on Lady Hawthorne with an expression that had nothing to do with the bickering dowagers and everything to do with the word that had not yet been spoken but was clearly coming.
“Kit?” she echoed, her voice cracking.
“Yes, that is my boy!” Lady Hawthorne exclaimed, not sensing the icy shift in the dining hall. Her eyes were on the Dowager Duchess, though, and not on poor Marta. “He has found a great investment. He is on his way to restoring the Hawthorne name and wealth.”
“That cannot be true, Grandmama,” Juliana whispered, embarrassed. “Kit is—”
“Please do not mention his name here,” Cassian commanded, the fury back in his voice.
Marta whimpered. Then, she shook, her eyes on Juliana’s grandmother as if she were a harbinger of death.
“I… I cannot do this,” she cried.
Then she fled the room, presumably running back to the West Tower, much to Juliana’s dismay. Her sobs could be heard from the hallway as she continued her flight.
Silence followed her escape. Juliana turned to Cassian, fear in her eyes, knowing his rage was coming.
What she saw in his eyes was worse. She saw hopelessness.
Disappointment. Emptiness. She saw a man who had spent years building a wall to keep his sister safe, only for his wife to knock it down in a matter of days.
“Cassian,” she said.
He looked at her, and the full weight of it was in his eyes.
“I… she had been doing so well,” Juliana said, and hated how inadequate it sounded the moment it left her mouth. “This past week… the garden, the time we spent together…”
“My sister is quite frail. You should not have pushed her so much.”
“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 was my fault!” 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?