But Julian did not give him so much as an inch. He rose to his feet as well, squaring his shoulders as if he meant to block the path to the door, trapping him there. The room shrank, and unease crackled in the air.
“Then talk to me. For once, be true to yourself and what you feel.”
The very notion had Tristan slamming his glass down so hard that it cracked. When Julian glanced down in surprise, Tristan glared at him.
“What am I supposed to say? That I cannot stop thinking about her? About both of them? Cassandra cursed me, Julian. That harlot. She was the liar. She was the fraud!” he said vehemently. “I have protected her in order to protect myself, my brother. We despised each other. I have tried to mourn her and cannot bear to do so. And yet, now it’s Verity who haunts me.”
The words spilled out, at last. Tristan couldn’t help it. He opened his mouth and told Julian everything before collapsing back in his chair.
“That’s a devil of a tale,” his friend muttered after a long pause.
Rising to his feet, he quietly refilled his glass before bringing the bottle to Tristan. But Tristan ignored it as Julian retook his seat.
“You’ve carried too much for too long, you madman. Friends are supposed to share their secrets and pain.”
Tristan shook his head. “You have your own secrets.”
“Not important ones,” Julian teased. Then, he gave a quick shake of his head. “I could have been here for you.”
“You have been. More than anyone else,” Tristan admitted.
“Very well, if you say that is enough. But what now, Tristan? Will you simply let her go? Will you never explain everything?”
He sighed. “How could I? I cannot dispute old papers. I don’t even know where they came from. But it was Cassandra’s handwriting. She may have never detailed her crimes, but she made certain to list all of mine. I am no saint.”
Tsking, Julian proclaimed, “That would hardly be enjoyable. No, perhaps you cannot do anything about those papers. But what if she wrote more details? Do you still have her journals? That’s where you said the papers might have come from.”
“Perhaps. But I had the staff remove everything. I think some of it went back to what is left of her family—anything that didn’t hold value to my title or name,” Tristan said.
He couldn’t think of much in general that might have been on that list.
“So those papers came out of nowhere?” Julian frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Was the Duchess holding onto them until the perfect moment?”
Tristan closed his eyes. His head ached. He was still covered in sweat and dirt. All he wanted was to lie down and stop thinking. But his mind snagged on his friend’s questions.
She would have been angry to read those papers. She wouldn’t have waited, reading them over and over. No, she would have had to just find them.
Opening his eyes, he straightened up. “A package came that evening. It must have included the papers.”
That only confused Julian further. He shook his head. “A package? That’s preposterous. Who would send you a package containing some of Cassandra’s papers?”
Tristan rose to his feet. There was something there, he could sense it in the back of his mind. A ghostly whisper and a pointed jab. A harsh glare meant just for him.
He furrowed his brow, pinched his nose, and started to pace as he tried to recall the connection.
Someone sent it to her, not to me. She wouldn’t open my correspondence. She refused to open anything that was sent to us both unless she was in my presence.
No, it was sent to her just that evening. She wouldn’t have understood much of it, would she? That was done to hurt me more than her.
He couldn’t think of anyone who might wish to hurt Verity, for she was obviously well-liked by the ladies. Some of the men were trouble, he supposed.
Then, he froze in his tracks.
Ice splintered through his body, burrowing into his heart. Tristan turned around slowly to stare at his friend as he fought the fear clawing up his throat.
Julian took a step forward, his brow creased. “What is it?”
“I hadn’t thought…” Tristan shook his head. It hurt to breathe. To think. “It was on purpose. He wants to destroy me. He even said…”
