Page 47 of A Wallflower for the Disguised Earl

Corinna stared at the board. The wood grain blurred beneath her gaze. She wanted to deny it, to construct some clever, defensive remark about social stations or proper decorum, to laugh it off as an absurd country fancy. But the words stuck in her throat. She remembered the heat of his hand in the London park, the electric proximity by the pond, and the raw, desperate hunger in his voice when he had nearly spoken his mind by the fire pit just the night before.

She stared at the board and did not answer.

Thomas reached across the table, picked up her white bishop, and left it sitting squarely on his side of the board. He stood up, smoothing down his waistcoat. “Pack your bags well, Corinna. London is waiting to take back whatever peace you found here.”

***

The transition back to Mayfair was a jarring assault on the senses. Vivienne complained from the exact moment the carriage wheels crunched onto the gravel of Aunt Phoebe’s courtyard.

“We missed two dinners, a picnic, and what I am entirely certain was a pivotal moment in my courtship!” Vivienne snapped, sweeping past the footman and flinging her traveling cloak onto the nearest chair with magnificent grievance. “The Harwood ball cannot come soon enough to repair the damage. My reputation has been left to wither in the provinces while the rest of the ton dances circles around us.”

Corinna listened and said nothing. She stepped down from the carriage, her limbs heavy with the exhaustion of the long road, and crossed the threshold of the familiar yellow-painted door. Phoebe was waiting in the hallway, her sleeves dusted with dried pigment, her expression calm as she directed the servants with quiet efficiency. The usual chaotic order of the townhouse instantly resumed.

Their mother appeared from the morning room to greet them, wiping her hands on a small linen cloth. She looked pale and drawn, leaning slightly against the console table as she embraced Vivienne first.

“Oh, my poor darlings,” Eleanor murmured, kissing Vivienne’s cheek and then pulling Corinna into a fragile hug. “I have missed this house terribly. How was your father? How is the estate?” She pulled back, pressing a hand to her lower back with a wince. “It is such a profound misfortune that my back affliction made travel impossible. I should have been there to chaperone you both.”

“Do not distress yourself, Mother,” Corinna assured her softly, taking her mother’s cold hands. “Everything is well at Ashwell Park. Father sends his warmest regards.”

“Well, it will all be settled soon enough anyway,” Vivienne declared, tossing her head so her golden curls caught the light of the hall lamp. She stripped off her gloves with impatient tugs. “I am going to ensure my marriage to the earl happens as soon as possible. I will not waste another moment of my life on stupid promenades and country walks when there are wedding breakfasts to plan and titles to secure.”

Eleanor sighed, looking slightly overwhelmed by her eldest daughter’s relentless momentum. “Let us settle in first, Vivienne. Go up to your room and let the maids help you change.”

Vivienne swept up the staircase, her complaints echoing off the high ceiling.

That very afternoon, just as Corinna was sitting by the front window of the sitting room with a book she had no intention of reading, the butler announced a visitor.

Cecily Vane glided into the room.

She wore a gown of rich, shimmering plum silk that seemed to absorb the afternoon light, and her coppery curls were pinned with an elegance that made Vivienne’s elaborate styles look amateur. She moved with an unhurried, devastating confidence, bringing with her that rich, intoxicating scent of dark vanilla and crushed cloves.

“Mrs. Cavendish, how delightful to find you at home,” Cecily purred, offering Phoebe a brilliant, perfectly calibrated smile. She turned her eyes toward Eleanor and Vivienne, who had reappeared at the sound of the visitor. “And the travelers have returned! I heard the most wonderful things about the countryside air. I trust it was entirely restorative?”

“It was… eventful, Miss Vane,” Eleanor replied politely, looking slightly dazzled by the stranger’s striking presence.

“Oh, I am certain it was,” Cecily murmured, taking a seat on the velvet settee with an ease that suggested she owned the furniture. She rested her gloved hands in her lap, looking around the room before letting her gaze drift over the company. “The ton has been talking of little else, you know. Everyone is simply breathless with anticipation over the expected announcement between the Earl of Ravenswood and the elder Miss Ashwell.”

Vivienne caught the statement like a gift dropped from heaven. The heavy grievance that had defined her mood since the carriage ride vanished in an instant, replaced by a radiant, triumphant glow. She stepped forward, her posture straightening as she met Cecily’s gaze with absolute delight.

“You are too kind, Miss Vane.” Vivienne beamed, her voice ringing clear and proud. “My lord and I found our time in the country… most illuminating.”

“I am certain you did,” Cecily replied smoothly.

Corinna watched from across the room, sitting entirely motionless in her corner chair. She saw the way Cecily and Vivienne looked at each other, the immediate, sparkling warmth of two women who had recognized a use for each other. It was an alliance forged not of genuine affection, but of shared ambition and vanity. Vivienne was entirely blind to the dangerous edge hidden behind Cecily’s beautiful smile, eager as she was to bask in the flattery of a woman who outranked nearly everyone else in the room.

Corinna felt a cold, heavy stone settle in her stomach.

Phoebe appeared silently at her shoulder. Her aunt did not sit down. She simply held a porcelain teacup in her hand, her sharp eyes tracking the exchange across the room. Neither of them said a single word.

Only a few minutes later, the front door knocker sounded again.

The butler opened the drawing room doors, and Mr. Marsh was announced.

He stepped over the threshold, and Corinna’s heart gave a traitorous lurch. He was alone, which in itself was highly unusual; Julian was nowhere to be seen. He wore his plain brown secretary’s coat, the fabric pulling slightly across his broad shoulders, but his presence completely dwarfed the delicate Mayfair room.

Mr. Marsh offered a low bow to Eleanor and Phoebe. But the moment he straightened, his dark blue eyes swept the room and found Corinna almost immediately.

His gaze locked onto Corinna with an intense, burning focus that made the air between them vibrate.