How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

Persephone jerked back, startled when a shadow detached itself from the rest of the darkness. The wildly flickering light fell on silver waistcoat buttons, a white cravat, dark eyes.

Conall.

She’d thought of him too much and he had appeared. She found she suddenly had to remind herself that she wasn’t the superstitious sort. “My lord!” She straightened carefully, not wanting to dislodge the dirt around her. “Mind your step,” she added.

“What the devil are you doing now?”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’m dancing a country reel with the prince. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Skulking.”

“I am an antiquarian, sir. I am… antiquarianing.” Oh why did all sense leave her when he looked at her with those burning eyes? “You are the one who is skulking.”

“Perhaps I was waiting for you,” he said silkily, closing the distance between them.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?” He halted, genuinely curious.

“You’re trying to embarrass me,” she said. She wondered who he had really been waiting for. The warmth turned to an ordinary chill. She was a goose to be sighing over him. “You’re not waiting for me, anyone could see that. So, you’re either waiting for some other lady—” She absolutely would not speculate about that. “Or you are in fact, skulking.”

He flashed a very brief grin. She had a feeling his true smile was as rare as a true king’s barrow. Still, it wasn’t enough to turn her into a complete idiot. Not yet, anyway. She slapped a hand to his chest. “And I said, mind your step. The soil and the items inside a barrow such as this one are very delicate.”

He looked as surprised as she felt. He probably didn’t get shoved by ladies very much. And she certainly couldn’t remember the last time she’d pressed her palm to a man’s chest. Well, she could, actually. That was the problem. It was nothing like this. Did the blasted man carry sheep around the highlands for sport? How else would he grow muscles like that? Muscles she really ought not be touching. Or thinking about. She snatched her hand away, looking up at him through her lashes. She’d seen the debutantes use glances like this one as a weapon, but hers were always too direct, too dry. Too Persephone.

She narrowed her eyes. “Were you messing about in my dig site?”

He leaned a shoulder lazily against the side of the tunnel. “I beg your pardon?”

“Did you take anything from the trench?”

“I’m not accustomed to being accused of grave robbing.”

“And that’s not an answer. Show me your hands.” She might have made a decent governess with that tone.

He pushed out of his lean so slowly it felt vaguely threatening. She refused to be cowed. Bad enough there was a thief about. He extended his hands, his signet ring catching the flickering oil lamplight. There was no dirt under his fingernails, unlike her, and not even a speck on his cuffs. She felt a little bit foolish. But only a little bit. Antiquarians could be devious.

“Do they pass inspection?” he asked.

She nodded.

“And now what would you like me to do with them?” he asked silkily, closing his fingers around hers. He gave a sharp tug until she was pressed against his chest. He was all heat and muscles. She was suddenly very much afraid she wouldn’t even be able to spell ‘barrow’ right now, never mind unravel its mysteries.

She had to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. It was both hot and unfathomable. She thought once more that he might kiss her, and if not, she was fairly certain she would kiss him. A sound above interrupted them before she could truly make a cake of herself. Relief should have been what she felt.

It wasn’t.

Light swung over their heads. “Who’s down there?”

“Blast,” she muttered. “Lord Darrington. What’s the good of receiving the cut direct all of the time if people won’t leave you alone?” She pushed Conall into the shadows. If they were caught like this, they’d boil together in a scandalbroth. He’d be expected to marry her, if she hadn’t been previously ruined. In this case, she’d certainly be asked to leave the house party. It might even interfere with the festival. The famous explorers might refuse to have any dealings with her. At the very least, her reputation would not enhance Conall’s. “Stay out of sight.”

He paused. “Are you trying to protect me?”

“Of course, I am.” His fingers were warm on her wrist. She couldn’t read his tone, there was something under the surprise. She didn’t have time to excavate. “Now hush.”

“Come up here at once!” Darrington shouted.

Persephone tried not to look as irritated as she felt. “Botheration,” she muttered, before raising her voice, and trying to keep it polite. “Lord Darrington, is that you?”