Page 37 of Unmasking the Earl

“Certainly not,” he managed.

“I fear if you’re not prepared to use your influence, you’ve no choice but to serve the rest of your time.”

“Bring dishonor on my family by revealing my name? What would the tabbies say if they heard about this maddening misunderstanding?”

She tilted her head and peered down at him in a disconcerting way. “I suppose you think it honorable to spy on another gentleman in his own house?”

His chains rattled and clanked with his agitation. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Now that I can’t reach you to silence that mouth of yours.”

He could tell from the jerk of her head she knew exactly what he meant. Then she lifted her chin at him, and said stoutly, “I’m not afraid of you. Anyway, Mrs. Fiennes informs me that it’s not like the constable to imprison someone for merely breaking a door. Is there any more you wish to divulge?”

She already knew, the little wretch. He could hear it in her tone. Oh, when he got his hands on her again—

“If I tell you,” he said, “will you get me out of this damned place?”

Her head tilted the other way. “I’ll think about it. But I would ask you to mind your language when talking to a lady.”

“You are going to regret your teasing,” he muttered. As soon as he was out of here, he’d make her pay. And pay. And pay. In the most pleasurable of—

Damnation.

“Fine,” he snapped. “I regret that I…lost my temper a bit further when unfairly taxed with breaking the door.”

She pursed her tempting lips. “A bit further?”

He pressed his hand against his forehead. “Somebody came bowling out of the inn and attacked me from behind. I swung round and caught the man in the face with my fist.”

She inhaled sharply. Ned hoped it was sympathy over his misadventure, not a laugh at his expense.

“So, you were charged with assault?”

“At the very least, I’m sure. I had the great misfortune to have struck the constable of this wretched place. Although, obviously, it was in self-defense.”

There was a pause. Cassie said at last, “You’ve been most ill-advised in your actions, sir. I wonder that you had the gall to criticize mine when you are so clearly no angel. I’ve never struck anyone, accidentally or on purpose, nor have I ever broken a door.”

“How fortunate for you.”

“I would call it good breeding and the ability to control my temper.”

Were they back to that? “Be careful not to tease me too much,” he said, his voice dark with warning. “I will get out of here eventually. And when I do, woe betide your impertinent mouth.” The idea of kissing her senseless and administering other, more wicked punishments, was an exquisite torture. “What would your dear Mr. Carnforth say about that?”

His threat was met with so heavy a silence, he feared he’d gone too far. With her, as well as in his own imagination. Aside from feeling a large stab of guilt at invoking the name of a man he knew for a fact wouldn’t give a fig if Ned kissed her ten times in front of the whole ton.

“Miss Blythe,” he called. “I’m sorry. Won’t you please talk to me?”

A muted argument erupted just below the tiny barred window of the cell. Minute piled upon minute, and still he waited, until the voices fell ominously silent, and quiet footsteps retreated.

All the anger flooded out of him, and he collapsed back onto the louse-infested mattress. Damn it all to hell.

No doubt he’d just ruined his only chance of getting out of here without revealing his true identity—and the whole world learning his family’s scandalous secret.

Not to mention rendering impossible his own, more personal, scandalous secret—his insatiable desire to possess the infuriating woman who’d just given him his congé.

Chapter Eighteen

Suddenly the sunlight was cut off as, once again, a head popped up from below the barred window, throwing Ned’s jail cell into Stygian darkness.

He lifted his gaze, hope surging through him.