Page 16 of Unmasking the Earl

The captain continued to caress her wrist. “If the magnetic attraction is not there to start with, it’s hard to cultivate. But I can see no reason why Mr. Carnforth wouldn’t be attracted to you. He just needs a bit of encouragement to see you as a woman, rather than a childhood friend. You must endeavor to seem less innocent, more knowing. That will intrigue him.”

She nodded, trying in vain to extract her hand from his.

“Make him feel jealous about another man. Myself, perhaps? That should capture his eye and his interest.”

Wycherley stepped closer, and his free hand brushed over the curve of her waist. With a soft gasp, she pulled back.

It was one thing to experience a man’s hand on your body during the heady excitement of a ball, quite another when alone with a single gentleman in his drawing room.

“Don’t be coy, Cassandra. You must get used to a man’s touch. If all you do is withdraw— Damn it, man, I gave orders not to be disturbed!”

Oh thank God.

She took several more steps backward as Wycherley released her, then glanced in horrified embarrassment at the man who’d just burst in upon them.

Ganstridge, naturally.

He hadn’t knocked, nor did he wait for his master’s nod before striding to the middle of the room, interposing his sturdy frame between her and her…tutor.

“I’m sorry, zurr. I didn’t know you were busy. I came to…check the fire irons. I was told one of them was…damaged by the maid this morning while cleaning.”

“A pitiful pretext, Ganstridge,” Wycherley snapped. “I’ve a good mind to send you packing. When I ask not to be disturbed, I mean not to be disturbed, except in the direst of emergencies. Not for a blasted bent poker.”

“My apologies, zurr. I really didn’t know you were in. I beg your pardon, miss,” he added, turning to Cassie with an awkward bow.

“Idiot.”

Cassie winced as Wycherley spat out the word.

“Get out of my sight before I terminate your employment with immediate effect.”

“Surely, there’s no harm done,” Cassie said in Ganstridge’s defense. She gave a forced laugh. “It’s not as though he interrupted anything.” She choked out another laugh, tried to catch Ganstridge’s eye, and added loudly, “The very idea.”

He paid her no heed. He narrowed his eyes at Wycherley and seemed to grow taller, until he towered over him. When he clasped his hands behind his back, every sinew of his arms stiff, she saw the knuckles were white. There was a moment, just a fraction of a moment, when it seemed terrifyingly possible he would strike his master.

She didn’t give much for Wycherley’s chances.

Summoning up all her courage, she stepped between the two men, forcing them apart, then twirled toward the door, saying brightly, “Oh goodness, it’s later than I thought. Ella will be back at any moment to collect me. Ganstridge, I’d be much obliged if you could fetch my bonnet and pelisse. I shall wait in the hall until she comes.”

Tight-jawed, the man turned on his heel and inclined his head toward her, took a deep breath and apologized again to Wycherley for the misunderstanding, then stalked out of the room like an angry guardsman.

Wycherley scowled after him. “That man is infuriating, much harder to manage than the other servants. He’s always in places he shouldn’t be and interrupts when I have company. I’ve never met anyone with such a poor sense of timing. Fire irons, indeed! Hurtling in as if his life depended upon it.”

“Perhaps he’s not too clever,” Cassie suggested, although she was sure this was not the case. She was quite certain Ganstridge had burst in to rescue her from a situation he feared she couldn’t handle. Even though he was mistaken, she ought to feel grateful, so she added, “I’m sure he means well. Has he been with you long?”

“Just above a month. He rescued me from a minor carriage accident, which is why I put up with him, I suppose. He came very well recommended. I had a note from the Duke of Paxton himself. Couldn’t sing his praises highly enough.”

Ganstridge, a hero? Cassie was startled by a mental image of him, stripped to the waist, exercising his Herculean muscles by heaving a carriage out of a ditch.

Lord, she was feeling hot!

Hoping Wycherley wouldn’t think himself responsible for the heightened color in her cheeks, she said, “He’ll settle in time. Well, sir, I really had better go. I don’t want Ella peeping through the window and catching me alone with you. You don’t look at all like a dignified French émigrée. Papa would be outraged to discover my deception, and the poor man’s had enough to contend with since his riding injury.”

“Then go, sweet lady. But not without my blessing.”

Which turned out to be a kiss.

Directly on her lips.