3
Looking at Julian now, he had lost the wild arrogance of his youth, The black brocade of his tunic made his handsome face seem
almost pale, like carved jade. He didn’t resemble the gruff, burly Marquis, he favored his late mother.
There was a time when 1, too, had been captivated by his good looks, secretly thrilled by our betrothal.
But that was a lifetime ago.
Julian faltered for a second under my gaze, then a smile touched his lips. He strode towards me.
I turned to Isabelle, whose expression was grim. I knew then that no invitation had been sent to the House of Blackwood. To arrive
uninvited was a serious breach of etiquette.
Julian first bowed to Isabelle, then turned to me, his tone intimate. “You’ve returned, and didn’t send a word? I would have ridden
out to meet you. The snows have been heavy in the capital; the roads are treacherous.”
He spoke with a familiar, complaining air, as if we were back in the old days, before a third person had ever come between us.
I narrowed my eyes, a flicker of irritation rising within me. Julian knew better than anyone how crucial a lady’s reputation was. A woman whose engagement had been broken, even through no fault of her own, was subject to endless gossip and ridicule. For him
to act now as if nothing had happened… I couldn’t help but question his motives.
Seeing my prolonged silence, Julian gave a wry smile and cut to the chase.
“I was too young then, too reckless. I hurt you, and it was all my fault.”