How to Marry an Earl (A Cinderella Society 1)

“Because you’re you.”

The warmth that spread through her had nothing to do with spirits.

“I’ll have them bring you as many crumpets as you’d like. But first, do you remember who was nearby when you fell over the balcony?”

She shook her head. “There was a bit of a crowd, guests, servants.” She paused. “You don’t think it was an accident.”

“Once is an accident,” he said grimly. “Twice is something else altogether.”

“But who would—?” she cut herself off. Although she wanted to believe he was over-reacting and being overly cautious, she had to wonder herself. Treason was a powerful motive, and a dangerous transgression to hide. Such a person would stoop to any means to protect themselves. And it was not a secret that she and Henry had grown up close as siblings. It would be a reasonable assumption to think she knew more than she did. Henry had never disclosed the name, he’d want to protect her as much as she meant to protect him.

“I can see it in your face, Persephone,” Conall said quietly. “You know something. And I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“It’s not your duty to protect me.” But oh, how she wanted to lean into him. “And if you’re right, it would only put you in danger.”

“I can look after myself.”

“As can I.” Probably.

“How about we look after each other then?”

There was no question she needed help. She couldn’t dodge garden urns and learn to fly in case she was shoved off a higher balcony all while doing the work that needed doing. No one else was half so good at spotting a forgery. Henry needed her. And she wanted to trust Conall, despite having no specific evidence that she should. Well, other than the fact that he had saved her life.

He waited patiently though she could see that it cost him. He wanted to be hunting, cornering his prey. Her prey. She did need him. And he didn’t know it yet, but he needed her too. He’d never find the forgeries without her. Not half so fast.

Still.

She hesitated. Not just for Henry’s sake, but for Conall’s. An earl searching for a suitable wife was hardly prepared for treason. Not that he was prepared for finding a wife either, since he had declared he had already found one.

She was betrothed.

“We’ll have to call it off, of course,” she blurted out.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The betrothal. I don’t know why you said it in the first place. You must have been addled from the accident.”

“I am not addled,” he said, very deliberately. “But I can keep safe you much better with the protection of my name and my house.”

“But… you were looking for a wife.”

“One crisis at a time, Percy.”

It was the way he said her name that decided her. Gentle, frustrated, a tiny bit desperate.

“I shall cry off as soon as this business is done,” she declared, ignoring the small flicker of something in her belly at the thought. “Your reputation will survive, you are an earl, after all.”

“And yours?”

She waved that away. “That ship sailed a long time ago.” Her hand dropped, fingers twisting together.

He smoothed his fingertips over her strained knuckles. “Tell me, Percy.”

“Are you really sure you want to know?”

“I need to know.”

“I suppose you were in the war.” There was a flare in his eyes, like a hound finally at the mouth of the rabbit burrow. She swallowed. “It’s about Henry Talbot.”