Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

In the other room, the orchestra was playing a waltz.

“You are as stiff as a marble statue,” he murmured, “although not nearly as cold. I think, if I stroked you, you would grow more responsive.”

He felt her tremble.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed. “You’re impersonating this Earl of Worthorne. Have you no shame?”

“Damn and blast it, Francesca, I’m not impersonating the Earl of Worthorne. I am the Earl of Worthorne.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but at least she was finally looking. “I don’t believe you,” she stated baldly.

“I really am the Earl of Worthorne,” he repeated. “If you want to accuse me of impersonating someone, then it would be Mr. Thorne. When I put the earl away, I took part of the name for my new identity. Worthorne…Thorne, do you see. But I was always the earl, underneath, and now I am back again.”

She looked miserable.

“You’re not pleased? My godmother heard rumors that your uncle was looking for an earl for you to marry.”

“My uncle is not me,” she whispered furiously. “I will never marry! I told you so. How dare you accuse me of being so mercenary and shallow as to hunt an earl, simply to please my uncle! If I had wished to marry an earl, I would have come down to London years ago.”

“Hush,” he said, squeezing his fingers around her elbow. “I know you better than that. I’m sorry. I was teasing.”

Her mouth t

rembled, and he wanted to kiss it. He wanted to lose himself in her sweetness.

He led her around the edge of the ballroom, and through the open glass doors at the other end. Suddenly they were outside in the garden, with the lights and the noise behind them.

“I thought you were going to dance with me,” she said, surprised and wary, her steps slowing. “We shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m concerned I might act in a manner not entirely earl-like,” he said wryly.

He thought she smiled, but she turned her face away before he could be sure. “You have lied to me. Again.”

“The earl was a naïve and spoiled brat, and Mr. Thorne made him grow up. You wouldn’t have liked me eight years ago.”

“Who says I like you now?” she said airily.

He stroked her bare arm. “I think you do, Francesca.”

“Why did you hide your true identity from me?” she asked hastily, her voice low. “Why did you need to become Mr. Thorne in the first place? I don’t understand.”

He was quiet for so long that she wondered if he was ever going to tell her the truth. But after all he was simply gathering his thoughts. “I had a sister once; her name was Barbara. She was more than a sister; she was my twin.”

His voice went on, weaving the story. It was a sad story, and her eyes filled with tears, but it helped her to understand him and why he had lived the last eight years the way he had. She knew very well how the tragedies in one’s past could mold one’s character.

“I decided that I couldn’t live with myself, not as the man I was. I turned my back on all that—left it to my brother—and became someone else. I wanted to hunt down men like Barbara’s husband. I wanted to do for others what I should have done for her.”

She glanced at him sideways. “So you were always a hero? And here I was thinking of you as a villain committing dastardly deeds. I feel quite let down, Lord Worthorne.”

He bowed gracefully. “My apologies. What can I do to mend matters?”

She gave him another glance, but this one was flirtatious. “Do you realize that we’re outside, alone together, without a chaperone?”

“Now that would concern me if I were still Mr. Thorne, but as I’m now an earl, I think your reputation will be safe.”

She felt like laughing, but she supposed that would only encourage him.

“You’re very beautiful tonight, Francesca,” he said quietly. “I wish we were alone. Completely alone.”