Page 46 of The Earl's Secret
“Why do we not begin by showing him that we no longer despise one another? That, at least, we are friends?”
He leaned in and kissed her on the nose in a gesture so gentle and affectionate that she nearly teared up once more. “I promise you, Cassandra, friends we will always be – among everything else.”
“You are something else, Lord Covington,” she whispered, no longer able to prevent moisture from welling in her eyes. “Something else indeed.”
CHAPTER18
Devon dearly wished that he hadn’t promised Cassandra not to share his intentions with Gideon just yet. He agreed with her that leading with the fact he had compromised her might not be the method to ensuring her brother’s agreement to their courtship. However, he would have liked to be able to make his purpose known sooner rather than later.
His friend arrived the next day, pleased to have returned and eager for news on their search.
They were sitting around the table in the drawing room, prepared to have a discussion, and Devon couldn’t remove his eyes from Cassandra. Her eyes flicked over to him now and then and at one point, she shook her head with a frown, likely convinced that his gaze was going to draw Gideon’s attention, but Devon couldn’t find it within himself to care.
He wondered why she did so overly much.
“So you have made no progress?” Gideon asked.
Cassandra frowned at him, and Devon lifted his tea cup to his lips, taking a sip before he answered.
“I wouldn’t say that,” he said. “We have, at the very least, determined where the treasure isnot. It is not in the long gallery. It is not in the ruins. It is not in the gardens. And it is not in the old servants’ quarters across the lake.”
“I never thought of searching there,” Gideon admitted, leaning back and crossing one leg over his other knee. “Actually, that seems like a rather natural answer to the riddle.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Cassandra said, pleasure lighting her face.
“It was Cass—Lady Cassandra’s idea,” Devon added, which caused Cassandra to frown at him once more. Goodness, was her intention to the do the exact opposite of showing her affection? If she wanted to convince her brother that she continued to hate him, she was doing a rather fine job of it. Meanwhile, Devon had thought their plan was to show that he was beginning to grow on her, that they had decided to become, at the very least, friends.
“You always were the clever one,” Gideon admitted. “I have been asking that the cottages be kept as clean as possible, in case we are soon in the fortunate position that we can afford to hire more servants. They haven’t been lived in for quite some time, however. What were the results of your search?”
Devon couldn’t help now but look over at Cassandra, seeing the red flush creep up her cheeks, and it took everything within his power to hide his grin.
Cassandra opened her mouth a couple of times but couldn’t seem to find the right words. Devon decided it was up to him to do his best to respond. “It was productive,” he said with a smile. “We were very thorough. Nothing was left untouched.”
Cassandra had lifted her teacup to her mouth, likely in order to hide her face, and now she began sputtering, choking on her tea. Devon, who had taken a seat next to her on the sofa – although not so close to be suspicious – patted her on the back, gliding his hand between her shoulder blades between pats.
“I say, Cassandra, are you all right?” Gideon asked, and she nodded, although her face was still rather screwed up in consternation.
“Just fine,” she choked out, and it took everything within Devon not to laugh.
“As you were saying?” Gideon said, turning to him once more, and Devon attempted to sober.
“Despite our very best efforts, we were unable to find the treasure we were looking for,” he said, pausing for a moment. “However, there was another occurrence of note.”
Cassandra’s head snapped up at that, as she stared at him with daggers in her eyes. “Devon—”
“We believe we might have been shot at,” he finished, and she sagged back into her seat at his words.
“Youwhat?” Gideon said, coming to his feet. “Why would you think such a thing? Are you certain?”
“Not entirely,” Devon said, shaking his head. “We had just left one of the cottages when Cassandra thought she saw a colorful motion across the lake. She did immediately believe that it was a person.”
“The color was too vibrant to belong to nature,” she said, and Devon nodded.
“Then we heard a crack that sounded like gunfire, and a second later the tree next to us splintered from being hit. There is certainly the chance that someone was out hunting, but why shoot at us, over by the cottages?”
“Unless whoever it was thought that you were an animal, and then upon realizing their mistake, hid so that they wouldn’t be blamed.”
“It is possible,” Devon conceded, although he believed it had been too close to have been such a coincidence, “but we thought we should note it for you.” He paused for a moment. “We had one other question for you. We inventoried and searched the statues in the long gallery but were not sure if anything was out of place. Do you have a list yourself?”
