Page 51 of Earl for the Summer
It had been clear to all of them that the earl was suffering pain from his broken leg. By the end of dinner the previous night, he’d gone frightfully pale.
“I don’t believe so, Your Grace.”
“Do you think Captain Rourke would mind being interrupted in the study?” Daphne whispered.
Bartlett turned his bespectacled gaze her way. “No, not by you,” he said too softly for the others to hear.
“Thank you.” She beamed at him and then, when her sisters were consumed by the books they’d selected, she slipped from the library.
A passing housemaid directed her to the earl’s study, and a few minutes later, she was standing on the threshold, hoping Cassian wished to see her as much as she wanted to see him. When she reached out, she realized the door stood slightly ajar. After knocking, she pushed it open and stepped inside.
At the far side of the room, Cassian sat behind an enormous desk. He immediately laid a nib pen on a tray in front of him and slid a piece of paper into the desk’s top drawer, standing as he did so.
“Daphne.”
She couldn’t quite interpret the look in his eyes, but the stiffness with which he held his shoulders and flexed jaw told her he was filled with tension.
“If I’m interrupting?—”
“No, I’ve wanted to see you since the moment I woke up, but I…”
“Bartlett said you spent time with your brother.”
He nodded. “I did indeed, but I still wanted to see you.”
“And here I am.” Daphne heard the giddiness in her own voice and couldn’t seem to temper it. His nearness did odd things to her.
“You are.” He chuckled, and the tension in him seemed to ease.
Daphne glanced behind her. “Do you mind if I shut the door?”
At that, he stepped out from behind the desk and crossed to her, reaching out to shut the door himself.
“Why would I mind?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that made her heart race. Then he touched her, his hand on her arm.
She immediately stepped closer and lifted her hands to his chest. “You did seem worried about us being alone in a room together at the Bancrofts’ ball.”
“Only for your sake,” he said with a sudden earnestness in his tone. “I would have happily remained in that library with you for the rest of the evening.”
Her breath caught at the look in his eyes, the green seemed brighter, heated. Lifting a hand, he traced the edge of her jaw with his fingertips. “Actually, I was writing you a letter.”
Daphne stilled. “Why?”
For some reason, the idea that he was writing to her rather than just seeking her out for a conversation felt ominous.
“An attempt to explain.”
That sounded even worse. Her throat tightened. Her chest ached.
“Explain what?”
He dipped his head, then looked up at her again. “Matters that are hard to discuss.”
“That you’re leaving Berkshire?”
“What? No.”
Relief rushed through her so fiercely, she gripped the edge of his waistcoat. “Then what do you wish to tell me? Shall I read the letter?” She glanced toward the desk, even began to pull away so that she could move toward it.
