Page 28 of Unmasking the Earl

“Well, I suppose I can congratulate you on being perceptive—except when it comes to judging character. You are quite out of your depth with Captain Wycherley.”

“Says the man masquerading as his servant! How can you criticize me when you’ve had the whole country searching for you? There have been rumors of kidnap, murder, spies, and Bonapartist plots. Your family and friends have worried themselves to death, I wager. I fail to see any honor at all in your character.”

His expression darkened. “Don’t think to judge me, Cassandra, when you don’t know the whole.”

“Then tell me,” she said, exasperated, hating that she might be developing…highly inappropriate feelings…for a deceitful rogue. Her mind and her body were in such conflict she didn’t know what to believe. Or to feel. “I’ll reserve judgment until I’ve heard your reasons.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Very well. But you must promise me not a word of this will go any farther than this room. My family’s honor, and my own, depend upon it.”

Intrigued—and relieved at the mention of honor—she nodded. “I promise.”

For the next quarter of an hour, she sat listening in amazement as the man she now knew to be the Earl of Stranraer told her the grim tale of his sister’s disappearance.

It wasn’t until he had brought his story up to date that she suddenly remembered something which might be significant.

“Did you say your sister’s name was Georgiana?” she asked with a prickle of excitement.

“It is. Why do you ask?”

“It may be nothing, but…” She rose and looked around for the poetry book she’d been reading. “Here, see?” She showed him the handwritten note on the flyleaf. “To my Dearest Francis, from Georgiana, Easter 1821, Aston.”

He leaped to his feet and seized the book, then scanned the inscription, his face as intent as a hound on the scent. He strode to the window and read it again. Was it a trick of the light, or had he suddenly gone very pale?

“It’s her handwriting,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear him. Then a smile slowly spread across his face, the first genuine smile she’d ever seen there.

She liked it. The softening of his eyes and face made him look even more handsome.

Dropping the book, he strode toward her, radiating a sense of joy so encompassing she couldn’t help but smile back at him. Before she knew what was happening, he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace, spinning them both round and round until she felt dizzy.

All the breath went out of her—and along with it, all her sense. She reveled in him holding her tight, acutely aware of the strength of his muscular body as he moved around the room. They were dancing, but her feet weren’t touching the ground.

“You angel!” he exclaimed, setting her down abruptly and taking her face between his hands. “Georgiana is alive. And now I know where she is!”

Then he kissed her. Again. A long, hard, heated pressure of the lips which made her heart leap and her body tremble with need. When it ceased, it left her fumbling for a chair and collapsing into it, her pulse jumping madly.

Sweet Venus. She couldn’t help but adore what the man did to her.

He turned to rummage through the bookcases, scattering books and maps onto the floor. The tea things were moved to sit precariously on a window sill so he could unfold a map onto the table. With an unsteady finger, he traced the lines of roads, prodded the dots of towns. He looked up with a frown and demanded, “Where the deuce is Aston? Is it too small to be on the map?”

Cassie moved around to study it. “Didn’t you say you followed Wycherley to Westbury?” she asked.

“Aye. But he’d only gone there to meet up with an army friend of his. One of my agents overheard him saying he meant to return via Bath to fetch some bottles of the health-giving water for a sickly relative.”

She regarded him wide-eyed. “You have agents?”

“Of course. I don’t do anything by halves.”

So I’ve noticed. She cleared her throat. “Then why disguise yourself and live in Wycherley’s household? You could have employed an agent to do it.”

He looked up at her, no longer smiling. “I needed to see for myself what manner of man Wycherley is. To see if he is the kind to seduce an innocent young woman, despoil her, and abandon her somewhere with his child in her belly.”

Cassie recoiled at the vitriol in his words and tone. “You are very blunt, my lord.”

He held her gaze, and she felt a shiver down her spine. “I will not sugarcoat the matter, sweet Cassandra. You know what he’s like. The devil nearly had you in his clutches.”

“I disagree. I feel certain he would have honored our agreement and would not have hurt me.”

“Don’t be a fool. Men like Wycherley never change. He was a rake before he met my sister, and he’s a rake still. I fully intend to put a stop to his behavior before any other innocent gets hurt. Now you’ve heard my story, you shouldn’t even want to give him the time of day.”