Page 22 of Unmasking the Earl

“Which is?” She hoped it wouldn’t involve anything too intimate. Like a kiss.

To her surprise, he said, “Lower your voice.”

She frowned. “Like this?”

Wycherley chuckled. “No, I don’t mean whisper, I mean lower your tone. Men are more attracted to a deeper voice, a slower way of speaking. Make your potential lover hang on your every word.”

She made a sound in her throat like a low growl. “Like this?”

He laughed. “Perhaps you can go a little higher. You don’t want him to think you have dyspepsia.”

This brought a genuine smile to her face. She liked Wycherley, despite his notorious reputation. He was engaging, as well as exceedingly handsome, and she could see why so many ladies were attracted to him, even if she was not.

“Now, we need to talk about your appearance.” He indicated the chaise longue, then sat beside her and tugged at a wisp of her hair.

Alarm sang through her. “If you knew how long it took Ella to create this style for me, you would not dare interfere with it,” she said, resisting the urge to pull away.

“It’s much too severe. There needs to be at least one wayward lock, just to make a man imagine what it would look like if every lock were set free. Your hair is brilliant, warm, and glossy. What man would not wish to see it loose about your shoulders?”

“I suppose I can cope with one stray strand,” she said hesitantly.

He teased out the curl and laid it against her neck, his warm fingers just brushing her skin. She shivered. Surely, he could have told her what to do instead of doing it himself? Was that wretched Ganstridge right, after all?

Now so close she could feel his breath upon her neck, Wycherley asked, “When you’re at a ball, you will, presumably, wear an off-the-shoulder gown?”

She nodded mutely, all senses alert, hoping he wouldn’t touch her again.

Her hope was in vain. His hands smoothed her dress down over her shoulders. She swallowed hard. If any other man—excepting Julian of course—had taken such a liberty, he’d have received a hearty slap. But this man was teaching her, she reminded herself.

She needed to concentrate. If Wycherley helped make Julian her husband, if he united her with the one man she knew could give her a lifetime of happiness, it was all worth it.

“Would you say this was a respectable depth?” Wycherley inquired, his voice languid and warm.

She nodded. He pushed the sleeves down farther, exposing the tops of her breasts where they nestled, supposedly safely, beneath her shallow corset. “And what about this?”

“No longer respectable,” she whispered, and her gaze shot toward the door. She could only hope the disapproving Ganstridge wasn’t listening at the crack, or peering through the keyhole. She made to pull the sleeves up again, but Wycherley stopped her.

“No, not yet. Now that you’ve gained the man’s attention with the wayward lock of hair, you need to move your head slightly so the stray curl caresses your neck, or your breast, everywhere his fingers long to go. But you must take his thoughts just a little further. You have to stoke his need, fan the flames of his desire.” He frowned. “Just a moment.”

As he disappeared through the door, she perched on the edge of her seat, her heart beating wildly, wondering just how far the captain was thinking of going…and whether or not she could swallow her pride enough to call Ganstridge to her rescue.

Wycherley returned and stood behind her. “Here,” he murmured.

Something cold touched her neck, and a small, heavy cabochon cradled itself in her exposed décolletage.

“Obtain a ruby necklace just like this one,” he advised her. “I chose the pale stone especially. It can sit tantalizingly between your breasts, the same color and size as the two rosy jewels which are hidden from the gentleman’s gaze. This will get his imagination working feverishly.”

By Juno, this was madness! Cassie leaped to her feet, tugged up the shoulders of her dress, and opened the door so abruptly she almost hit herself with it.

“Miss Blythe! Cassandra!” he called after her.

“I thought I saw Ella outside,” she lied. “I must hurry. You’d better not see me out, in case she gets suspicious.”

Ready to just grab her things and race out the door, Cassie’s heart dropped like a stone when she saw the looming form of Ganstridge right next to the coat stand.

For a second she saw alarm on his face, but then his expression turned grim, and he strode toward her.

Damnation! He wasn’t going to drag her into a cupboard again, was he?