Page 30 of Unmasking the Earl

It probably didn’t come easily to this man to beg. How could she ignore such a heartfelt request? She was going to have to trust him. “There’s a small village in Wiltshire called Aston Tankerville,” she said. “My friend Portia lives there.”

His countenance brightened, and she felt the power of his smile. “It’s near Westbury, I wager?” he said eagerly.

She could feel his excitement. It positively crackled around him. Smiling back, she replied, “It is.”

“Damnation!” he exclaimed, driving his fist into his palm. “I knew I should have stuck with Wycherley. He might have led me straight to her after he’d been to Bath. I wonder if Maxim has any more miles left in him today.”

Cassie’s wrinkled her brow. “Maxim?”

“My horse.”

She was astonished. And alarmed. “But you can’t mean to ride there now? You’ll never make it before dark. And in this weather—”

The roads would be full of potholes. What if his horse slipped and threw him? He could break his neck.

Not that she should care.

“If I don’t go now the roads will be even worse,” he said, returning to the chaise longue to grab up his coat. “I’ve searched for her for six months. I can wait no longer.” He pushed his hat onto his head and strode to the door. “Say nothing of this to anyone, I beg you.”

But…no! He couldn’t just disappear, possibly altogether, from her life! There was still so much to say, to think about, to decide.

About their kisses.

About…them.

Except, now she knew he was an earl, not a lowly servant. So there could never be a “them.” They were too far apart in rank.

“Promise you’ll let me know the outcome of this story,” she urged as he eased her gently away from the door and unlocked it.

“I will contrive to let you know, one way or another. But swear to me you will not call on Wycherley again.”

She nodded, her thoughts in a whirl of shocking disappointment. “Very well.”

“And if you persist in pursuing a man so clearly undeserving of you as Mr. Carnforth, at least woo him by respectable means, not through…nefarious lessons.”

Her face flamed to recall, not her lessons from Wycherley, but instead Ganstridge’s—Ned’s—arousing kisses…even as Julian’s name filled her with a wash of guilt.

And suddenly, she could not imagine enjoying such wicked, sensual kisses with anyone but Ned.

Not even Julian Carnforth.

Which was ridiculous, because Julian was the man she loved, not the Earl of Stranraer.

She dipped her head and studied the toes of her shoes so he wouldn’t see the chaos of confusion in her eyes. “I promise.”

He gave her a very gentlemanly bow. “Thank you,” he said gravely, then left the room, closing the door behind him.

She stood for a while in silence, all the things she’d just discovered fizzing around in her head like freshly poured champagne. How was she supposed to deal with the new and worrisome emotions she was feeling over losing a relationship she hadn’t even realized she wanted?

Which she didn’t want.

She only wanted Julian. Julian was her perfect match—kind, considerate, sensitive Julian. Not the uncivilized, mercurially passionate, revenge-seeking Ned Ganstridge.

No, Talbot.

Edmund Talbot. The infamous missing Earl of Stranraer.

She pushed out a breath of frustration. And how infuriating she couldn’t share that discovery with anyone!