Page 75 of Unmasking the Earl

“Dear Edmund, I do love you!” She pecked him on the cheek. After calling out to thank the constable, she and the captain finally left Ned alone with Carnforth, and his own tempestuous thoughts.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Cassie paused uncertainly outside the door to the chamber that served as jail cell. Locked in that room together were two men about whom she’d had overwhelmingly powerful feelings. She knew, though, deep within her soul, which man she wanted.

Ned.

But did he want her? The insult he’d given her just before their kiss in the churchyard, it still stung. Badly. The kiss had been glorious, but had started in hurt and anger. How could she know how he truly felt about her, deep down? Whether he intended to make her his wife, or only his mistress?

Should she follow her heart…or take the safe path offered by Julian, the path she’d followed for most of her life? Counting on Ned’s feelings would be an enormous risk to take…

“Miss Blythe!” announced Constable Marsh. “Have you come to mend these ruffians’ pates?”

She would hardly call either of them “ruffians,” but let the man savor his small victory while it lasted. Which she hoped would not be long.

She lifted the basket on her arm to show him its contents. Bandages, a flask of clean water with a little witch hazel in it, some arnica salve.

“Mrs. Fiennes does not come with you?” the constable asked, visibly disappointed.

“No. We weren’t sure if we’d both be allowed in.”

“Oh, the more the merrier,” he said, rocking back on his heels. She thought she heard the clink of coin in his pocket, and hoped she’d brought enough for her own bribe.

“There’s already been two visitors,” Marsh informed her as he stealthily relieved her of her shilling.

Who could be visiting Julian and Ned? Lady Lucy? Cassie sincerely hoped not.

“Captain Wycherley and the new lady who lives out on the Kenville road have been here already.”

Wycherley? With Georgiana? Good Lord. How would Ned have dealt with that scenario? Especially after his cutting question about whether Cassie would prefer Ned’s bed or Wycherley’s?

“Everything was amicable, was it?” she cautiously queried as the constable put the key in the lock. “No arguments, raised voices?”

“None at all. I wouldn’t have allowed any altercations, you know.”

“Of course not.”

So, Wycherley was still in one piece. Good news, indeed. Her heart lifted a little as she stepped into the room where her lover—and her former love—were both incarcerated.

“Cassie!” Ned leaped up and reached for her hands, and she winced at the touch of cold iron from his manacles.

“Ned, how are you? What’s happened to Julian?”

She didn’t quite know how to act with him. She still felt wounded by his thoughtless comment. But then, he’d kissed her so passionately. Perhaps the best approach would be to keep things polite and businesslike until they had a chance to talk.

He nodded toward the other side of the room and grimaced. “I must stop moving my head so suddenly,” he said, then added, “I think he’s asleep.”

“I’ll attend to him in a moment, then. Sit down, Ned, please. Let me see your injuries.”

He sat, and she set her basket down and ran her hands gingerly over the back of his head.

Oh, it felt so good to be close to him again! Recalling what they had shared, and all he had made her feel, she prayed he felt the same about her as she felt for him.

She heard his sharp intake of breath as she probed, and resisted the urge to tease him, knowing he could do very little to protest with both hands shackled together. Then she saw the ugly bruise on his temple, and her wicked thoughts evaporated in a cloud of concern.

“That looks painful. Portia recommends arnica ointment, if the skin isn’t broken.”

“Portia has turned out to be a very useful friend,” Ned said wryly, as Cassie dipped her fingers in the salve and started gingerly anointing both the bruise and the bump.