Page 1 of The Earl's Secret
CHAPTER1
“It is not a true romance if it does not have a happy ending.”
Cassandra’s bold statement was met with the expected chorus of opinions. In a room of women who are all passionate about their preferences in their romance novels and never hesitated to share their true thoughts, her view would not go unchallenged.
But she maintained her position as she sat in the center of the room and placed her hand over her heart as though making a lifelong vow.
Although she supposed in a way, she was.
“Why did we just put ourselves through such tragedy for entertainment?” she continued, her spine straight in her perch on the middle cushion of the crimson French sofa, which was beginning to show all of its decades. “I apologize, Faith, for I know the book was your choice, but I was soinvestedin their love, and then for it all to end in such a tortuous manner… I simply cannot go through that again.”
“Cassandra,” Faith said, tilting her head to study her friend. “You are being overly dramatic. It is still a romance because they fell in love. Yes, they allowed external forces to come between them, but the story is still worth reading. Did we not learn something from it?”
“We did,” Cassandra said with a firm nod of her head. “Never trust a gentleman who is more in love with a ghost than his wife.”
Persephone, who they affectionately called Percy, started to snicker at that, while Faith rolled her eyes. Faith’s sister, Hope, sighed, and Cassandra knew that she likely agreed with her. The fair-haired, blue-eyed Hope lived up to her name, always seeing the best in everyone around her, while Faith was far more suspicious of anyone who entered her life.
One could tell their personalities by their choice in books – which made Cassandra all the more worried about what Madeline might pick the following week.
Percy held up a hand to halt a new argument.
“Before we delve deeper into this conversation, perhaps we should pour ourselves a drink.”
“An excellent idea,” Cassandra said, smiling wickedly as she walked to the sideboard, where her brother, Gideon, kept his alcohol. She had a feeling he knew that she and her friends often helped themselves to his supply, but each woman took a turn providing sustenance for their meetings so that there was never enough missing for him to have reason to accuse them.
She reached underneath and found five short glasses, lining them up in a row on the chipped wood of the counter above. She generously poured each one, and then served them to her friends before sitting back in her own place on the sofa, closing her eyes and taking a deep sip, welcoming the fiery warmth as it slid down her throat – just as the door opened, startling all of them.
“Gideon, I—oh, excuse me.”
The deep, bass voice echoed through the room and straight into Cassandra’s soul. It was a voice she knew well, one that she usually attempted to avoid.
For it brought nothing but trouble.
She shot to her feet so quickly that the remnants of her drink spilled out and splashed over her dress, but she disregarded that as she locked eyes with the dark, unreadable ones of the man in front of her – the man she had allowed to get under her skin, not to mention a few other places he should never have been – one too many times.
His broad, full lips curled into a smirk as his eyes wandered from her face down the entirety of her body to the kid slippers that covered her toes and back up again. His scrutiny was more fiery than the liquid that was dripping over her and she shivered from the intensity of it.
“Having ourselves a good time, are we ladies?” he asked, although he kept his eyes on Cassandra.
“We are having a private meeting,” she said, straightening her shoulders and meeting his gaze full-on, refusing to cower before him. “One to which gentlemen are not invited. I believe Gideon is hosting a gathering of his own – one that youarelikely welcome at – in the drawing room. This is the parlor.”
“So it would seem,” he said, his eyes sweeping around the room, missing nothing, including the books that each of them held in their laps. Cassandra gripped hers tightly in her hand as she moved it slightly behind her back so that he wouldn’t comment upon it. She had nothing to fear from the man, she reminded herself. The worst he could do was tell Gideon what they were doing in here, and the truth was, she didn’t think her brother would overly care.
“Lord Covington,” Hope said belatedly, standing with a slight bow, one which they all followed – even Cassandra, as much as it aggravated her to do so.
She could tell he was completely aware of her feelings as his grin stretched wider and his eyes turned darker.
“Lady Cassandra,” he replied, slipping his hand into his jacket and producing his handkerchief with a flourish, “I believe you might be in need of this.”
Cassandra’s hands balled into fists as she wanted to deny it – denyhim– with everything within her. But she could feel the close gaze of her friends and she knew that she was best to simply take it from him and then hope he would leave.
“Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth, crossing the room toward him and practically ripping it from his fingers before lifting it up to her body. Then she realized that two could play this game.
Ensuring that no one else in the room – except Lord Covington or Devon as she had always known him – could see her actions, she smiled coyly as she brought the handkerchief to her neck, slowly wiping away drops of the drink from her collarbones and then down to her cleavage. She dipped his handkerchief, noting it was embroidered with his initials, D.A., into the valley of her breasts, watching his nostrils flare as she did so.
She fixed an innocent look upon her face as she lifted the handkerchief and held it out toward him.
“Here you are,” she said, annoyed by the breathy tone of her voice as she realized that her plan had unintended consequences when warmth washed over her, her teasing affecting her as much as she had meant to affect him.
