Page 3 of Earl for the Summer
God help her, she was the greatest of fools. And she hadn’t even made it hard for him.
Papa had always called her the sweetest of his girls.
But she was too sweet. Too gullible. Too eager to give away her heart.
As she reached the ballroom’s threshold, her tears had begun to dry and her resolve had begun to harden.
She would never be a gullible fool for any man again.
CHAPTER 1
Late July, 1897
Berkshire
Cassian Rourke pushed the coach’s door open and descended, though the driver had barely drawn to a stop in front of Hillcrest Manor, once his family’s home—now his brother’s estate.
The journey had been damnably long, the air inside the carriage stale, and his muscles screamed for movement. Yet as he looked upon the all-too-familiar Palladian facade with its elegant symmetry, impressive columns, and imposing pediment, a ripple of unease had him clenching his jaw and balling his fists.
The tormentors he’d once feared no longer lived inside its honey-colored walls of Bath stone, yet ghosts seemed to linger. The memories came sharper than he’d expected.
Keeping away from the bloody place for nearly a decade had been no mistake. In fact, it had been the best decision of his life. And isolating himself in the north after a lifetime of naval service—and private indulgences that brought more regret than pleasure—had been precisely what he’d needed.
Yet he’d never refused to help his brother when Julian needed him, and Julian’s letter spoke of a dire need. A favor that he could not ask of another soul.
Still, as eager as he was to see his twin, he stood fighting the urge to climb back into the coach he’d just spent days in. Or better yet, to free one of the horses from its traces and make his escape as fast as the beast could carry him.
But the poor horses needed food and water and rest. He did too, though he couldn’t imagine managing a wink of rest in his old bedchamber.
The moment he’d resigned himself to facing Hillcrest’s ghosts, the front door yawned open, and he spotted Bartlett just beyond the threshold. The aged butler had served the family from the days when his father was the earldom’s heir. Lean and stoic, with a posture as straight as the manor’s columns, Bartlett preferred order in all things, yet he’d been kinder to Cassian and his brother than either their father or grandfather had ever been.
Cassian strode forward and reached out to shake Bartlett’s hand. The white-haired servant took Cassian’s hand in a firm hold, his gaze softening with warmth beyond the spotless lenses of his spectacles.
“It’s been a long while, Master Cassian.”
“Captain Rourke, if you please.”
Bartlett smiled, then released him and nodded. “Old habits, Captain. Seems yesterday when you and your brother ran riot through these halls. Do pardon the error.”
“No pardon necessary.” Cassian smiled, ignoring the reference to his childhood.
With a glance behind him, Bartlett silently commanded a young footman, who strode forward, then passed by to retrieve Cassian’s traveling trunk.
“Will the blue guest room suit?” Bartlett remained standing in his usual stiff, shoulders-squared posture, though his eyesheld an understanding that gave Cassian his first moment of ease since stepping through the front door.
“Yes, it will suit very well. Thank you.”
Bartlett had known not to give him his prior bedchamber. Bless the man.
“Is he awake?” he asked as he passed over his hat and gloves to another footman.
“He is indeed, Captain, and his lordship is most eager for your arrival.”
Cassian took the steps of the wide staircase two at a time and then strode down the long hall to the suite that had once been his father’s and now housed the current Earl of Windham as he recovered from a nasty fall from his stallion.
His twin, Julian, as was his way, had put a favorable spin on the whole matter in the letter that had requested Cassian break his self-imposed exile in Scotland. But though Julian had downplayed the seriousness of his injury, he’d emphasized the urgency of his need for Cassian’s presence, and that had convinced him to come.
He’d all but sensed his brother’s worry as he’d held the letter in his hand. That inexplicable sense of knowing and connection with his brother was one he’d accepted as an aspect of having come into the world within moments of each other.
