How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

Chapter Seven

Persephone was reasonably certain that another urn was not currently falling from the sky, but it rather felt like it might be.

Time stopped again. Everything went slow and treacly, and the expressions of the people gathered around her were just as shocked. Possibly, more so. She was known for getting into scrapes but rather less well known for catching the attention of a gentleman. Especially an earl. She blinked at Conall. She ought to say something, but he narrowed his eyes at her warningly and anyway she had no idea at all of what one said to celebrate one’s fraudulent engagement. After being nearly crushed by garden pottery.

“Oh, Percy,” her grandmother sighed. “I’m so happy you’ve made your announcement. As if there could be any doubt after that romantic kiss under the fireworks.”

She might look like an oddly decorated confection, but her grandmother was still sharp as she’d ever been. “Northwyck, do take her inside.” She winked at the astounded guests. “There are enough windows in the drawing room there that you shan’t need a chaperone. I’ve my tea to finish.”

Conall bowed, reluctant amusement behind his eyes. “As you say, Lady Blackwell.” His amusement dropped like an anvil when he looked at the butler. “Gather the servants, I’ll interview them first”

“My lord.” The butler scurried away.

“First?” Lady Culpepper echoed, trying to decide if the unfolding drama would enhance her house party or detract from it. “You can’t mean to interrogate my guests!”

“I merely wish to ascertain what I can,” Conall assured her smoothly. “There’s many a sharp eye here.”

“Hmph.”

“I’m sure Lord Northwyck is being overly cautious,” Persephone rushed in. He had no idea how miserable they could make his life if these people were peeved, earl or not. “’Twas an accident.”

Conall’s smile had more in common with the curve of a scimitar than any expression of gentility. Persephone curtsied for the both of them. Her knee twinged as she hobbled back toward the house. She was fairly certain she could not tolerate another minute of everyone staring at her with their mouths open and their brains chasing the best way to tell the story, without screaming. Conall’s hand slipped under her elbow, supporting her. “Let me call for the doctor.”

“It’s not necessary. It’s my knee again. I’ll be fine once I sit down a bit.”

“And the shock. Tea?”

“Thank you.”

“And brandy?”

“Better and better.”

He led her into the blue drawing room, where everything was the colour of blue Wedgewood pottery. She’d read about blue scarab beetles of a similar shade and hoped to see one in the crates awaiting unpacking. She really must get to it. But her knee, under the achiness, felt a little like jelly. She’d take a moment to catch her breath. “I promise I am not usually this exciting.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He handed her a glass of brandy after having pulled the bell for the tea cart. He crouched in front of her. His eyes were clear as glass and just as sharp. He fairly thrummed with energy, with contained fury. She knew then and there that he could be as deadly as any scorpion, despite his reputation for carousing. But with her he was gentle, careful. Even when a few hours ago he’d been angry with her and was likely still. “Are you sure you’re well?”

She nodded, taking the smallest sip. “You saved my life.” She touched his arm. “Thank you.” She noticed her fingers were shaking, and then her teeth. How odd.

“You’re in shock,” Conall murmured, helping her steady her glass and tipping it up to her mouth. “Have another sip, it will help.”

“I’m fine,” she chattered. “Barely a scratch on me.” She took another swallow of brandy, this time a proper mouthful. She hissed at the fiery sweetness but the warmth that spread into her ribcage was soothing.

“You are indomitable,” Conall said.

“For someone who falls in holes and off balconies.”

His brows lowered. “Yes, about that.” He searched her face. “Have another sip, first.”

“Are you trying to get me soused?”

“If only it were that simple.”

She made a face at him but took a last drink. “I’d rather have a crumpet. I never got my breakfast.”

His smile was quick but blinding. She might have thought she’d imagined it. “My god, what a woman.”

“Because I’m hungry?”