Page 32 of A Wallflower for the Disguised Earl

“I am Cecily Vane,” the woman introduced herself smoothly. Her dark eyes locked onto Corinna, stripping away the polite veneer to reveal a sharp, assessing intelligence. “I am a very dear old friend of the earl’s.”

“We are delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Vane,” Corinna replied. She forced her features into a mask of polite indifference, though her pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

Cecily paused for a fraction of a second, letting the introduction settle heavily over the table. She glanced sideways at Mr. Marsh, who was standing perfectly still beside the chair. His face was a completely unreadable mask, his jaw locked tight.

“And of his companion, of course,” Cecily added. Her voice dropped into a rich, melodic cadence that commanded the attention of everyone at the table. “We were all so wonderfully close in Paris.”

The words landed in the warm air like a small, triumphant flag being planted in conquered territory.

Paris? Corinna thought, a spark of genuine anger burning away the edges of her jealousy.

Cecily held Corinna’s gaze a fraction too long. It was not a friendly look. It was a sharp, clinical assessment. Corinna could see the woman measuring her, calculating the depth of her intelligence, weighing the potential threat she posed.

She is marking her territory, Corinna realized, her spine stiffening as she held the older woman’s stare. She wants me to know she shares a past with him that I can never access. She is claiming him.

Then, with a fluid, dismissive grace, Cecily turned her full attention back to the earl.

“My lord, you simply must introduce me to the rest of the room,” Cecily demanded softly. Her gloved hand reached out and rested briefly, possessively, upon the earl’s velvet sleeve.

Her body language completed the sentence her clever words had deliberately left open. It was an unmistakable declaration to everyone watching. This man, and his entire orbit, belong to me.

Corinna watched Cecily turn her head back to the secretary.

“It is lovely to see you looking so well, Mr. Marsh,” Cecily said, her tone dripping with a mocking sweetness that made Corinna’s stomach turn.

She knows, Corinna thought, watching a muscle jump in Mr. Marsh’s jaw. Her eyes are laughing at him. She knows he is hiding something, and she is playing with him.

Across the room, Corinna noticed Arabella standing near a towering floral arrangement. The young woman possessed a stillness of her own. Corinna noticed the way Arabella’s knuckles had gone stark white where she gripped her silk reticule. Arabella stood perfectly motionless, her usually gentle brown eyes fixed on Cecily with an unblinking intensity that gave away a profound fear.

Arabella is terrified of her too, Corinna deduced, her mind racing to connect the pieces. The earl looks trapped, the secretary looks ready to commit murder, and the sister looks as though she has seen a ghost. What did this woman do to them in Paris?

“I must apologize for the interruption, Miss Vane,” Mr. Marsh suddenly said.

He moved with the silent, lethal speed of a striking viper, placing his broad frame smoothly between Cecily and the earl.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Marsh?” Cecily asked. Her brilliant smile turned brittle at the edges as she looked up at him.

“My lord, the carriage driver requires your urgent instruction regarding the horses,” the secretary lied smoothly, forcing the earl to excuse himself.

“I am sure the driver can manage his own horses,” Cecily countered. Her dark eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

“I apologize, but I have to see to that now,” the earl said, and walked out.

The secretary did not wait for her permission. He offered his arm, using gentle but absolutely unyielding pressure to steer her expertly away from the table and back toward the quieter edges of the room, effectively cutting off her access to the earl and Corinna entirely.

Corinna watched his broad back as he walked away, the dark wool of his coat stretching across his rigid shoulders. She watched the way he managed the dangerous woman, shielding their corner from further interrogation with his own body.

He is protecting something, Corinna thought, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and burning curiosity. He stepped between us like a shield. He is hiding a massive secret, and she holds the key to it.

She understood with absolute, unshakable certainty that she had just been shown something monumental. She had witnessed a piece of the grand puzzle slip into the light, revealing a complicated web of loyalties, hidden histories, and obvious danger. She was simply not yet certain what it all meant, or how she was going to survive the fallout when the truth finally broke.

Beside her, Phoebe calmly lifted the silver teapot and poured herself another cup of hot tea. She brought the delicate porcelain cup to her lips, took a slow sip, and lowered it back to the saucer with a definitive clink.

“The most dangerous players, my dear,” Phoebe remarked into the warm air, her eyes fixed on the empty space where the secretary had just been standing, “are always the ones who make you watch their right hand.”

Chapter 12

Edmund stepped away from Cecily Vane, forcing his hands to remain casually behind his back when every instinct demanded he wipe the cloying scent of her French perfume from his coat.