Page 41 of A Wallflower for the Disguised Earl

A crunch of boots on the gravel path drew their attention.

Corinna was walking briskly toward them from the direction of the gardens. She wore a simple, pale blue muslin day dress that fluttered slightly in the morning breeze. Her dark hair was partially pinned up, a few loose curls escaping to frame her face. She looked vibrant, relaxed, and entirely different from the guarded, careful woman she was in London.

“Thomas,” Corinna called out, her voice bright and uncharacteristically loud.

She reached the group and completely bypassed her father, Julian, and Edmund. She stepped directly up to the estate manager, falling instantly into an easy, relaxed posture that spoke of a thousand shared afternoons.

“You received my last letter, I trust,” Corinna said, looking up at Thomas with a wide, genuine smile. “I have been turning over the Queen’s Gambit in my mind for a fortnight. I believe I have finally found the counter-move to that vicious trap you set for me in April.”

Thomas’s stoic, serious face transformed instantly. He smiled, and it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I received it,” he said, his voice dropping into a softer, more familiar register. “I was going to write back, but I thought it better to wait until you arrived. Some defensive positions are better debated over the actual board. Your proposed knight move leaves your flank entirely exposed.”

“It does not!” Corinna laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that made Edmund’s chest physically ache. “You are simply afraid I am going to back you into a corner again, just like I did at Christmas.”

“I let you win at Christmas,” Thomas teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You most certainly did not, Thomas Briggs, and you know it.”

Edmund stood perfectly still, his fingernails biting painfully into the palms of his hands.

Thomas, Edmund thought, a cold, irrational fury flooding his veins. She calls him Thomas.

He watched the intimate shorthand passing between them. They were speaking a private language, built on years of shared history, inside jokes, and comfortable proximity. Corinna laughed at something Thomas muttered under his breath before the man had even finished the sentence. Her eyes were bright, her posture entirely relaxed.

Edmund’s face tightened as a dark, ugly emotion clawed its way up his throat. It was not the panicked, desperate jealousy he had felt over Cecily in Paris. It was a cold, violent, territorial gripping in his chest. He was watching the woman he wanted standing completely at ease with another man, locked entirely out of their private world, and he found he could barely breathe through the rage of it.

What is this feeling? Edmund thought, forcing himself not to step forward and physically break them apart. I have absolutely no right to be angry. I am a secretary.

Thomas Briggs suddenly stopped smiling.

The estate manager turned his head slowly, looking past Corinna’s shoulder, straight at Edmund.

Thomas’s gaze was entirely calm, completely devoid of intimidation, yet incredibly sharp. He looked at Edmund’s clenched fists, at the rigid set of his jaw, and at the barely suppressed violence burning in the “secretary’s” blue eyes.

Edmund did not look away. He met the estate manager’s stare head-on, refusing to back down, letting the mask of the obedient servant slip just enough to issue a silent, unmistakable warning.

Thomas held the look for one long, heavy second. His expression remained entirely unreadable. There was no fear, no surprise, and no challenge.

Then, with smooth, deliberate control, Thomas broke the eye contact and turned his attention back to Corinna.

“We should play a game this evening,” Thomas said to her, his voice perfectly even. “I will bring the board to the library after dinner. We will see if your new strategy holds up under pressure.”

“I look forward to it.” Corinna beamed.

She turned to walk back toward the house, but as she did, her gray eyes flicked toward Edmund. She caught the dark, thunderous expression on his face, her steps faltering for a fraction of a second, a look of confusion crossing her features. But before she could speak, Sir Gerald called out to continue the tour, and the moment was lost.

Edmund watched her walk away, his heart hammered a violent rhythm against his ribs.

He turned his gaze back to the estate manager. Thomas Briggs was already walking back toward the stables, completely unbothered by the interaction.

Edmund understood with absolute clarity that the quiet man in the riding boots had just looked straight through his disguise. Thomas Briggs had taken his measure in a single glance, recognized the dangerous truth hiding behind the brown coat, and had simply not yet decided what he was going to do with the information.

Chapter 15

The front door of Ashwell Park did not merely open; it was thrown back with the force of a minor artillery strike.

“I have been assaulted,” Vivienne announced to the entryway.