Page 35 of Who’s That Earl

Unless something had happened to prompt her to tell him the truth?

After a final swipe at his tea-stained clothes—thankfully, his waistcoat and coat had long since been shed and tossed aside—he shoved his feet into his boots and his arms into his battered greatcoat. Those issuing midnight invitations must excuse his dishabille.

Inside the castle, he crossed the deserted Great Hall and ascended the south stair as quickly as its narrow, curved steps allowed. The study door stood open, giving him a clear view of the room, of Jane, before he could be seen. She was pacing before the fire, staring down at the floor, evidently deep in thought. With her hair hanging over her shoulder in a long, thick braid, she looked as young as she had when they had first met.

Cautiously, he ventured across the threshold, but the dogs were nowhere in sight. She paused her restless steps and looked up, startled. He bowed. “I had a note I’d find Robin Ratliff in the castle. Where is he?”

For a long moment, she only looked at him. Then she spread her arms. “Here.”

She’d obviously intended to surprise him with a dramatic revelation, and despite his suspicions about the author of The Necromancer’s Bride, she’d succeeded.

She was clad in what appeared to be a man’s dressing gown; its rich purple silk caught the light as she moved. No question, though, that it belonged to her, for it had been tailored to her shorter frame. It was just the sort of costume a dissolute gothic novelist might wear—and it drove all thought of Mrs. Higginbotham’s dismal black dress from his mind.

He took another step toward her, but she turned one of her hands palm outward to stop him. It seemed she wasn’t done with revelations yet. “I thought you would want to know that another letter came this evening,” she said, gesturing toward the desk with the flick of her other wrist, though her gaze never left his face. “Lord Magnus.”

Chapter 13

Jane had hoped to feel a sense of relief at telling someone her deepest, darkest secret. A sense of triumph at having guessed another’s. Instead she felt vulnerable. Agitated.

Or maybe those feelings were the fault of the letter.

She watched Thomas stride toward the desk. Neither his expression nor his posture betrayed any reaction to her use of his title. Perhaps she’d been wrong after all? He picked up the letter and studied it for so long, she felt certain he had forgotten about her. Then he returned the paper to its place and, without looking up, asked, “How long have you known who I am?”

So, she’d guessed right. She drew a breath, wishing he would look at her. “Last night, I thought for certain you must have been sent by the new earl, despite your denial. But while I was in the village this morning, I heard news that he had recently been seen in Edinburgh and would likely make his way to Dunnock to take stock of things. When I thought of how far you’d come, your family connections to the Balisaig, I began to realize it was far more likely you were Lord Magnus. All the pieces fit.”

“Do they?” He raised his face to hers. The customary lightness of his expression had been replaced by a degree of bitterness, a shadow of self-doubt she would not have thought him capable of feeling. “If you were suspicious of me from the first, I suppose I ought not to be surprised that you wouldn’t kiss me.”

For years, she had hidden, denied, lied. But where had it got her?

“I wish now that I had.”

He came around in front of the desk, leaning his hips against it as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you?”

She nodded, glanced toward the letter on the desktop, and licked suddenly dry lips. “I could use a distraction.”

Some of the familiar, mischievous warmth flickered in his answering gaze, though he said nothing.

“You weren’t entirely shocked when I said I’m Robin Ratliff, were you?”

He lifted one shoulder in reluctant acknowledgment. “Your note tonight and the snow were the last pieces in the puzzle. It was easy enough to see that no carriage had come in or out today, which meant the mysterious Ratliff had to have been in the castle all along. What you’d told me this morning, about Higginbotham and about your family, made me wonder whether there wasn’t more to tell. After we parted, I took a stroll around the outer bailey and came upon old Dougan caring for his donkeys. Despite his stern warnings, I poked around a bit in an empty stall and found—”

“The curricle,” she finished, pursing her lips and shaking her head. She might have known she’d be betrayed eventually by one of the little extravagances she’d allowed herself.

“The red racing curricle,” he agreed. And winked. “Perfectly suited to what I thought I knew of Dunnock’s tenant. But Dougan insisted it was yours. When I added it together with the rest, I began to suspect how things lay. But I spent the afternoon reading The Necromancer’s Bride, just to be sure.”

She glanced toward that awful letter, then back at him, and pushed her chin forward, defiant. “And?”

With a wry laugh, he unfolded his arms and parted the sides of his greatcoat.

For a moment, all her attention was taken by the discovery he was wearing nothing more than a thin cambric shirt, which had come mostly untucked from a pair of worn but well-fitted buckskin breeches. Even his cravat was missing, and the wedge of tanned skin revealed by the deep V in his shirt was shadowed with dark, curling hair.

“Spilled half a pot of tea on myself hurrying to get my hands on volume three, didn’t I?”

The damp fabric clung provocatively to the taut muscles of his abdomen, and lower. “Oh, my.” Thanks to Elspeth’s visit, she’d had a recent reminder of the dramatic break between the second and third volumes of The Necromancer’s Bride. Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I suppose you want to know what happens next?”

His expression was...well, she couldn’t quite put a name to it. Sly, perhaps. Intrigued. And more than a little impressed. “That much, lass, I think I can guess.”

She looked him up and down again, let her gaze linger over every detail. He was entirely too handsome. And too confident. “With all due respect, Lord Magnus, I doubt it.”