Page 8 of Unmasking the Earl

“Oh, I wouldn’t feel sorry for him,” Becca replied. “He had his heart broken once and has been punishing women ever since, I hear.”

“Now, Becca, surely that’s just gossip,” Cassie admonished.

“Oh, but it’s true,” her cousin said firmly. “I wouldn’t say it, otherwise. I wager the girl who threw him over must be kicking herself now, for Captain Wycherley distinguished himself at Waterloo and became quite the war hero.”

“Ah. Is that why women set their caps at him?” Cassie asked.

“Part of it, I’m sure.”

And he really did have a cherubic look, with golden curls to match. A sinful Cupid. How could women resist?

Cassie trawled her spoon thoughtfully through her porridge. “So, how did he get his reprobate reputation?”

“That came later. He—”

“He does extremely well on the stock market,” interrupted Papa, peering at them briefly over the top of his newspaper.

“Yes, Uncle. His investments have made him very wealthy,” Becca agreed. “I’ve heard,” she added, leaning in conspiratorially, “that he regularly journeys out of town, but no one knows where he goes, as he has no country estate, only his house in Oxford and his London house.”

It was a bit odd that Becca should know all that. But as Cassie was interested to find out all she could about Wycherley—without alerting her father’s suspicions—she suggested to her cousin, “As soon as we’ve breakfasted, shall we go for a walk? I’d love a breath of air.”

Becca finished her tea with alacrity. “What a splendid idea. I’ll just dash upstairs and fetch my reticule.”

Waiting by the open front door a few minutes later, Cassie gazed down at the raised scallop shells that edged the path and steeled herself against the unpleasant memories they always invoked. She had set them there herself as a child, to please her sickly mama. Mama had been wheeled out in her Bath chair to admire them, but all too soon, the pain had driven her back inside again.

Death had been a blessed release when it finally came.

No one could be unaffected by the loss of a parent at so young an age. Julian had been a tower of strength to Cassie as a lonely, uncertain eleven-year-old. That was when her affection for him had blossomed into true love—a love so deep, so enduring, she could barely cope with the burden of it.

A bee buzzed past her, laden with pollen. That was just how she felt, weighed down by a love that was only returned in the smallest part…as friendly affection.

Becca’s cheerful voice broke in on her thoughts. “Here I am. Shall we take the footpath toward Oxford? Or would you rather head into the countryside?”

“Oxford, I think.”

The way Cassie was feeling, she needed distraction, and the sight of people going about their daily business, riders out enjoying the clement weather, and laden wagons rattling into town bearing fresh produce for sale, would be just the tonic she needed.

“If we go far enough,” Becca said, “I can point out Wycherley’s house to you. Did you notice that he and Lady Lucy arrived together last night, but departed separately? I saw her give Julian the cold shoulder, too, when he approached. I wonder which man was the cause of her ill temper?”

Lucy gave Julian the brush-off? Better and better, thought Cassie.

She glanced up at the sky and watched a pair of swifts skirting above her. She ought to feel bad about helping Wycherley intercept Lady Lucy at the Highmore maze. But it had all worked out too well.

Becca continued, “There was a rumor of some connection between Wycherley and Lord Edmund Stranraer’s sister a year or so ago.”

“The lady who died in that dreadful fire?” Cassie asked, casting her mind back a few months.

“Her body was never found. It must have hit him hard.”

“Who, Wycherley or Stranraer?”

“Both, I imagine,” said Becca gravely. “I know nothing of Lord Stranraer, save that he, too, has vanished from the face of the earth. It’s all very peculiar. There are rumors he may have been kidnapped for ransom, or been done away with—”

“We were speaking of Wycherley,” Cassie interrupted before Becca could get sidetracked.

“Who has been wilder than ever lately, I hear, changing his women like other men change their cravats. Whatever it is Wycherley has to offer, there are plenty of ladies keen to partake of it.”

“I’d have thought he’d be keen to fix his interest with Lady Lucy, as she’s very rich.” Which would, thankfully, cut Julian out of the picture.