Page 28 of A Wallflower for the Disguised Earl

Julian shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned casually against the marble pillar. “I must admit, Cecily, your arrival in London was not on my itinerary. How exactly did you manage to find us in a city of this size?”

Cecily did not look at Julian. She kept her piercing eyes fixed firmly on Edmund’s pale face, demanding his absolute attention.

“It was remarkably simple,” she explained, her copper curls catching the dim light of the gas sconce above them. “The moment I arrived at my hotel yesterday, I found the entire city buzzing with the most fascinating gossip. The noble ladies of London were talking breathlessly about the charming new Earl of Ravenswood, who had just arrived from the continent.”

Edmund felt a cold chill begin to sweep through his veins. He knew exactly where this was going, and he braced himself for the inevitable blow.

“The ton is notoriously fond of empty chatter,” Edmund said quietly, holding his ground. “They frequently exaggerate the details of new arrivals to entertain themselves.”

“It was not empty chatter, Edmund,” Cecily corrected softly. “They described the earl in exquisite, highly specific detail. They spoke of his dark, expressive eyes. They swooned over his easy laugh and his reckless, foreign charm. They mentioned his devastating, charming smile and his background as a painter in France.”

Edmund gripped his own wrists. His fingernails bit sharply into his skin as he listened to her list off Julian’s exact physical traits. The cover they had spent weeks carefully constructing had been blown to pieces by the idle gossip of bored aristocrats.

“When I heard that specific description, I went completely cold,” Cecily confessed, her smile slipping just a fraction to reveal the absolute truth beneath it.

“Cold with fear, or with anticipation?” Julian asked lightly from the sidelines, though his eyes lacked any trace of their usual humor.

Cecily snapped her fan open, the painted silk rustling loudly in the quiet corner.

“I was cold with absolute certainty,” she answered flatly. “I knew both of you in Paris. I knew Julian’s handsome face just as well as I knew yours, Edmund. I knew perfectly well that the charming Italian painter from the Latin Quarter had absolutely no claim to an English earldom.”

Edmund stared at her, wishing he could disappear completely behind the heavy velvet fabric and escape this waking nightmare. He had spent months trying to forget the sharp, brilliant mind hidden behind her beautiful face.

“I came to the theater tonight already certain that something was horribly wrong,” Cecily declared, taking another step closer to Edmund. “I expected to find a clever fraud. I expected to find Julian swindling the aristocracy while you remained safely hidden away at your country estate. But seeing the two of you standing together in the corridor, precisely reversed, confirmed everything in a single instant.”

She paused, letting her dark eyes sweep over Edmund’s cheap wool coat and plain cravat with a mixture of pity and profound amusement.

“Why on earth are you playing the servant, Edmund?” she asked, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You are the Earl of Ravenswood. You possess one of the oldest titles in England, and you are standing here dressed like a clerk. It is the most absurd, fascinating spectacle I have ever witnessed.”

Edmund stood perfectly rigid. He did not owe her an explanation, and he certainly was not going to reveal the truth about the Ashwell family arrangement to a woman who traded in secrets for a living.

“My reasons are entirely my own, Cecily,” Edmund stated, his voice finally hardening into the commanding tone of an earl. He dropped the subservient posture, squaring his broad shoulders as he glared down at her. “The only question that matters now is what exactly you intend to do with this information.”

Cecily looked back at him, her expression softening into something that looked dangerously like sympathy.

“I have no intention of alerting the authorities, if that is what you fear,” Cecily promised smoothly. “I have no desire to see Julian thrown into a London prison for fraud, and I certainly do not wish to see your family name dragged through the mud.”

Edmund needed absolute confirmation before he could take another breath. He knew her promises were often as fragile as spun glass, easily broken the moment a better opportunity presented itself.

“Then what exactly are your intentions?” Edmund demanded, his blue eyes flashing with cold fire. “You did not travel across the Channel and secure an invitation to this exclusive event simply to admire the irony of my wardrobe.”

Cecily offered an elegant shrug of her shoulders. She closed her painted fan and tapped the ivory handle lightly against her chin.

“My intentions are entirely my own business for the moment,” Cecily replied, her smile returning in full force. “I merely wanted to introduce myself to the new Earl of Ravenswood and assure you both that your secret is safe with me. For now.”

She was completely in control of the board, and she knew it. She had backed them into a corner without issuing a single demand, establishing her absolute dominance over the situation with terrifying ease.

“I look forward to observing the rest of your fascinating masquerade, gentlemen,” Cecily said, stepping backward toward the main corridor. “I think this Season is going to be incredibly entertaining.”

She offered them both a polite curtsy, playing her own role flawlessly for any prying eyes that might be watching from the main hallway. She turned gracefully on her heel, her emerald velvet train sweeping across the polished marble floor.

Julian pushed himself away from the pillar and appeared immediately at Edmund’s shoulder. They stood together in heavy silence for a brief moment, watching Cecily move back into the crowded theater.

She was unhurried, entirely in control of something she did not even need to reach for. She commanded the space effortlessly, parting the crowd of aristocrats with nothing more than her striking presence.

“Well,” Julian murmured, keeping his voice incredibly low, “I suppose our little theatrical production is nearing its final curtain, considering the devil herself just decided to join the game.”

Edmund watched her go, and he waited for the familiar, crushing weight of heartbreak to settle over him. He waited for the pain of her past betrayal to rise up and choke him.