Page 57 of Unmasking the Earl

Ned felt fury building up again, but before he had a chance to lower the man and take a few calming breaths and recover his self-control, someone cannoned into him, making him release Matthews, stumble over a small footstool, and fall helplessly onto his back on the hearthrug.

Cassie, of course.

Her spirited leap had thrown her off-balance, too, and she collapsed on top of him, her limbs flailing. Matthews slid down the wall into a breathless heap, and Georgiana collapsed back onto the sofa, fanning herself rapidly.

Ned lay there, staring up at Cassie, and beyond her to the plaster ceiling above, where a shadowy cobweb billowed in a faint draft.

All at once, the tension exploded in his chest, and he laid his head back on the rug and laughed until the tears ran from his eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Some people might have chuckled at seeing a young woman topple the Earl of Stranraer. But the last person Cassie would have expected to laugh at that particular moment was the earl himself.

He rolled sideways, tipping her off, then sat cross-legged and hid his face in his hands, his shoulders quaking with amusement.

Matthews glanced at Cassie, and recognition dawned in his eyes. Then he looked at Ned, and his face darkened.

Alarm sprang through her.

Thankfully, Georgiana said quickly, “It’s quite safe, Matthews. This is my brother, Edmund.”

Cassie laid a hand on Ned’s shoulder. She hoped no one else had noticed what she had—that there were sobs racking that stalwart frame, interspersed with the laughter. He was quite literally crying and laughing at the same time, so overcome was he with emotion.

“Your brother?” exclaimed Matthews. “How can that be? Your brother is an earl. This man is a servant in Captain Wycherley’s employ.”

“In Francis’s house?” Georgiana’s face went almost as pale as her hair when she glanced at Ned. Cassie noticed she kept the damaged side turned away from them.

Poor girl. What pain she must have suffered. What distress!

Ned wiped his palms across his eyes, then turned to Matthews. “What my sister says is true. I’ve been searching for her ever since the fire at my aunt’s house. I suspected a connection between her and Wycherley, so I decided to spy on the captain in the guise of a servant. It was this young lady, Miss Blythe, who finally found the clue that led me here.”

Using Ned’s shoulder for support, Cassie got to her feet, hands outstretched toward Georgiana. “Forgive me,” she said. “I had no idea you’d suffered burns, or that you might be deliberately hiding from the world.”

“Of course I forgive you.” Georgiana took both her hands and squeezed them warmly. “You have merely brought about something that was bound to happen sooner or later. Francis kept telling me I should contact my family, let them know I am alive and well. I just… I was just struggling to find the confidence.”

Ned came to Cassie’s side. “Georgiana, meet Miss Cassandra Blythe. I must warn you, she is a regular firebrand, and has no fear of me, the dictates of Society, or what is considered proper conduct for a young, unmarried lady. But I’m hoping to change that soon. Matthews, fetch some water for my sister, if you please.”

Cassie blinked. Change what part? The firebrand, the fear, or…

Matthews didn’t respond immediately. Ned just raised an aristocratic eyebrow, and said, “Well, man, what are you waiting for?”

There was no mistaking the lofty tone in his voice. It was enough to convince Matthews. “At once, my lord,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Cassie, however, was awash in a sea of uncertainty.

Not the least of which was not wanting to interfere in the reunion between brother and sister. They had a lot to talk about, not all of it pleasant. But when she turned to go, the brief touch of Ned’s fingers on her arm prevented her.

“Stay,” he commanded softly.

She stayed.

The water was brought, Matthews was dismissed to the garden, and Georgiana moved to sit in a chair. It must have been her favorite—it was placed so only the back of her head could be viewed from outside, while to anybody in the room, her face was thrown into shadow by the light from the window.

Ned took the sofa, and after a moment’s indecision, Cassie joined him there so Georgiana could address them both. The earl’s fingers trembled where they rested on his thigh. Feeling as much overwhelmed by the man and his emotions as by the moment, Cassie reached across and squeezed them. When she made to break the contact, he curled his hand around hers and prevented her.

“I expect,” he said to his sister, “you have quite a tale to tell me.”

“I think, brother,” said the disfigured young lady, “that is rather an understatement.”