Page 45 of A Wallflower for the Disguised Earl

Edmund shifted his weight, finally lifting his head. As he did, he caught Thomas Briggs watching him from across the clearing.

They packed up the satchel and began the walk back as the afternoon light shifted into a deep, hazy gold. The shadows lengthened across the forest floor, cooling the air.

As the dense trees thinned into the structured, manicured lines of the Ashwell gardens, the smell of woodsmoke drifted toward them. A fire had already been lit in the old stone pit near the orchard wall, casting a flickering glow against the gathering twilight.

They gravitated toward the warmth, taking seats on the curved stone benches surrounding the pit. The fire crackled, sending sparks dancing into the evening sky. They sat together for a long while, the four of them, sharing a comfortable silence that required no forced banter.

“The light in that forest,” Arabella murmured, staring into the flames. “It reminded me of the painting you described yesterday, dear brother. The one with the heavy shadows and the gold horizon.”

Julian turned to her, his expression softening instantly. “The landscape from Lombardy. Yes, exactly. The contrast is difficult to capture, but when it is done correctly, it is magnificent.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I have a sketchbook in the parlor, actually. If you wish to see how the charcoal mimics the shadows, I could show you.”

Arabella’s face brightened. “I would like that very much.”

They stood up together. Julian offered a polite bow to Corinna and Edmund, murmured an excuse about the damp evening air, and escorted Arabella toward the illuminated windows of the great house. Their voices faded into the distance, leaving only the crackle of the burning wood.

Neither Edmund nor Corinna moved to follow them.

The garden settled around them. The darkness pressed in, leaving them isolated in the small, warm circle of firelight. They sat close enough on the stone bench that Edmund could feel the ambient heat radiating from her skin. The silence between them was not empty; it was heavy, suffocating, and full of everything neither of them had dared to say.

Edmund stared into the fire, his heart hammering a violent, terrifying rhythm against his ribs.

He was the Earl of Ravenswood. He had lost his father, been forsaken by the woman he thought he loved, and had buried his open-hearted nature under a mountain of duty and armor. He had come here to observe a stranger and protect his family’s interests.

Instead, he had found Corinna.

He turned his head slowly. She was already looking at him.

The firelight danced across her face, highlighting the intelligent strike of her cheekbones and the soft curve of her mouth. Her gray eyes were dark, searching, and entirely unguarded. She was not hiding behind her usual introspective armor. She was completely present, waiting for him.

“You did not like hearing that story told,” Corinna said softly, breaking the quiet.

“I am not a man who enjoys charity, Miss Ashwell,” Edmund replied, his voice dropping into a low, rough register.

“I do not think you are a man who requires it,” she noted, her gaze tracing the hard line of his jaw. “You carry yourself like a man who gives orders, not one who takes them.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Yes,” Corinna agreed, her voice barely a whisper. “They certainly can.”

Something inside Edmund’s chest simply gave way. It was a catastrophic collapse of every defense he had built over the last two years.

He did not think about the scandal. He did not think about Julian, or Vivienne, or the terrifying consequences of the truth. He only thought about the woman sitting inches away from him. He wanted to strip away the cheap wool coat and the lies and stand before her exactly as he was.

Edmund reached out. It was not a calculated move. There was no strategy, no performance, and no hesitation. It was just him. He moved his large hand across the cold stone of the bench, his rough fingers brushing against the soft fabric of her navy dress, reaching toward her.

Corinna’s breath hitched. She did not pull away. She leaned a fraction of an inch closer, her eyes dropping to his mouth. The undeniable chemistry between them flared, hot and desperate.

Edmund opened his lips, the words rising in his throat. I am Edmund. I am the earl. I like you, and I have ruined everything.

“Lord Ravenswood!”

The voice cut through the dark like a shattered pane of glass.

Edmund froze. Corinna flinched, snapping her head toward the gravel path.

Vivienne’s heavy, frantic footsteps crunched loudly in the dark as she marched toward the orchard wall. Her voice carried ahead of her, shrill and dripping with absolute indignation.

“My lord, are you out here?” Vivienne demanded, her silhouette materializing at the edge of the firelight. She was clutching a thick shawl around her shoulders. “This is entirely inappropriate! The night air is terribly dangerous, and you have been gone for hours. Where is he?”