Page 7 of Unmasking the Earl

“A rat just scurried toward your feet. They are attracted to muslin, you see, and use it to line their nests, I believe.”

“Oh!”

He hid a grin as she picked up her pace, as well as her skirts. In moments, they had reached the steps leading up to Highmore’s front entrance.

An older lady, respectably dressed, hastened down the steps as soon as she saw them. “What are you doing out here, Cassie? You’ve been gone an age! And who is that with you?”

“No one. Just a servant. I needed some air and picked the first one I could find as an escort so I could walk about a bit.”

Ned had long since ceased to wince every time someone said, “just a servant.” He was certainly more than “just” anything. But hearing Miss Blythe say it made a dent in his pride’s armor, especially as he was applauding her quick thinking in explaining his presence.

The older woman barely acknowledged his existence as Miss Blythe took her arm and they made their way back into the cheerful brilliance of Highmore House. Neither of them looked back. Miss Blythe didn’t even bother to nod her head or thank him.

Well, good. In his servant’s garb, Ned Ganstridge was invisible to those he wished not to see him, and easy to forget.

And that was exactly the way he wanted it.

Chapter Five

As she sat down to a late breakfast the following morning, Cassie’s mind hummed with the events of the previous night. Trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened promised to be an ordeal.

“Ah, what a splendid evening,” proclaimed her papa, glancing up from his newspaper. “Old Paxton certainly did us proud.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself. Your legs aren’t plaguing you too much?”

“Fortunately not. I didn’t need to do much walking or standing. Now don’t fret, daughter, you know Dr. Franks said I needed to continue using my pins, or else they would atrophy.”

“It was a long night, though. You must be weary.”

“I’m fine. Better than you, I think, with those blue patches beneath your eyes. Anyone would think you had barely slept.”

“Uncle Hector!” came an admonishment from the door.

“What is it, girl?” Papa said as Becca swept into the room. Her cousin was staying with them for the Season. “Can’t I comment on the looks of my own daughter?”

Cassie smiled. Becca could probably guess why she’d spent a sleepless night, even if Papa could not.

“I was afraid you might have a touch of dyspepsia, Papa,” Cassie said. “You ate an inordinate amount of very rich fowl last night.”

“I happen to be particularly partial to peacock,” her father responded, unabashed. “It’s not the kind of thing one would ever have at home, so one must make the best of every occasion on which it is served.”

“I’m sure the king does exactly the same, and look what it has done to his figure,” Becca countered, taking a seat and pouring her tea.

Papa frowned. “What you see in the pamphlets and journals is the work of lampooners. I’m sure he is much thinner in actuality. Think of all the exercise he gets.”

Cassie tried hard not to think of the kind of exercise preferred by the new king. It made her blush…and try to imagine Julian engaged in similar exercise with her…that was to say, naked.

“I didn’t see much of Carnforth last night,” her father added, stabbing a devilled kidney and conveying it to his mouth.

Cassie nearly choked. Was he reading her thoughts?

“You were too involved in your cards to notice,” she gasped from behind her napkin.

Becca leaned forward and said earnestly, “It was very bad of him to keep forgetting when he was meant to be dancing with you.”

Cassie resisted the urge to kick her cousin beneath the table. She didn’t need to be reminded of that particular blow, thank you very much. People needed to stop talking about Julian.

“I felt sorry for Captain Wycherley,” she said. “It seems he came with Lady Lucy, but she was more than happy to dance with every other gentleman under the age of forty.”