How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

“I’ll walk with you a while,” she added. “There is a book I have been wanting to borrow from the duke’s library.”

His jaw clenched. It might have escaped her notice if she hadn’t been looking for it. Even had the British Museum not suggested she meet the very discreet Earl of Northwyck in the library, if she was comfortable revealing herself. He had been vetted, of course, but she generally worked anonymously.

In this instance she was definitely comfortable with being seen.

Vengefully eager, in fact.

She felt him vibrating with suppressed frustration as she dallied throughout the enormous room, trailing her fingertips over the gilded spines of leather-bound books. Conall glanced at the door. She hid a smile. “I can’t seem to find the volume I was looking for,” she said. She pointed to the shelves that reached the ceiling, to the second-floor balcony framing yet more books. The duke had separate exhibition rooms for his collections. Here were books, and more books. A muscle ticked in the earl’s jaw. “This could take some time,” she added. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe here. I see John in the hall there, no doubt waiting for me.”

Conall looked as though he were about to say something but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. He bowed politely instead. “Of course.”

He marched away, the clipped sound of his boots echoing over the marble floors. Persephone grinned and sank into the blue chaise tucked into the corner behind a small army of ferns to wait, as requested by the British Museum.

She was still grinning when Conall returned, no doubt relieved to find her away. She was well tucked into the leaves. There was a pause long before she saw him, before his shadow even reached her. Not quite as well hidden as she’d thought. “You’re the consultant,” he said ruefully.

“Courtesy of the museum, yes,” Persephone replied when he finally stepped into the green shadows.

“You might have said.”

She rose from the soft chair. “You ask me that?” she snapped. “Truly?”

He had the grace to look mildly abashed, slightly hunted. She mimicked his voice. “Don’t hide from me.”

“Percy…”

She poked him in the chest, incensed. Not so incensed as to not notice the warm strength of him under his shirt but incensed enough. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t …lie.”

“You went behind my back. You tried to keep me out of this investigation.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

She made a thoroughly unladylike sound at that. “Bah.”

He blinked, tried another tack. “Henry would want you to stay safe.”

Persephone wondered if the top of her head might actually blow clean off like a tea kettle. Steam was surely hissing out of her ears. “Don’t you dare, Conall Hunter. Not only is Henry my oldest friend, but your best leads in this investigation have been through me. Me.”

He paused. “True.”

“And if I’m good enough for the museum, I don’t see why I’m not good enough for you.”

“You are. Of course, you are.” When she returned his steady gaze without a word, he sighed. He wasn’t the only one who had perfected the art of seeing without being seen. “You’re right.”

“Bloody right, I am.”

He flashed a half-smile.

“Don’t smile at me.”

He stepped closer. “Why not?”

“I know what you’re doing.” The scent of cedar soap enveloped her.

“And what’s that?” His hand slid over the nape of her neck, fingers digging gently into the tense muscles at the back of her skull. He massaged until they released and pleasure tingled into her scalp.

“You’re trying to distract me.” She nearly moaned when he leaned down to press his mouth at the base of her neck where her shoulder started. His mouth was warm, soft. A gentle scrape of teeth. “It won’t work.”