Page 22 of An Earl Like You (Games Earls Play #6)

No, it wasn’t true. She opened her mouth to argue, to scream, to rail at Lord Egerton until he took it all back, every word of it, but all that emerged was a broken sob.

Lord Egerton saw his advantage and ruthlessly seized it. “I wonder what your brother will make of twelve years’ of such flagrant disobedience on your part, Lady Harriet? Rather shocking, isn’t it?”

“My brother would never?—”

“You going missing from the ballroom is more than enough to ruin you, but there are your sisters to think about, as well. I should think your illicit correspondence with Lord Windham combined with your shocking lapse of propriety this evening is more than enough to ruin all three of you.”

Margaret and Sarah, ruined? Margaret, who was almost certainly in love with Lord Hayward, and Sarah who’d only just begun living her life after so many years of illness…

How would she ever forgive herself if they were ruined because of her carelessness? It had been her idea to come to London, her idea not to mention it to Johnathan. It had been her who’d told Cass they’d come for the season, and she still hadn’t told him the truth.

She’d lied to everybody. Her brother, Cass, her sisters, and Lady Fosberry.

And now she was at the mercy of a reprobate like Lord Egerton, because this was what came of keeping secrets and telling lies.

“You look distressed, Lady Harriet, but there’s really no need to be.

I’m willing to marry you, despite your damaged reputation.

” He pressed closer, looming over her until she shrank back against the door.

“Now listen carefully, my lady. You’re going to tell your brother it’s a love match between us. ”

“I will do no such?—”

“Indeed, you will, or I’ll see to it your sisters leave London in a cloud of infamy. We’ll marry, and your sisters’ reputations will remain as spotless as ever. As for you, I promise you I’ll be an ardent husband.”

She turned her face away from the drift of his hot breath against her cheek, but he caught her chin in a rough grip, his eyes glittering. “Come, my lady. Haven’t you even one kiss for your betrothed?”

It was no use fighting him. He was too strong, and there was no place to escape to, no place to go. She went blank as he lowered his mouth to hers, the terrace and the railing and Lord Egerton’s hated face all went blurry as his mouth came closer and closer?—

All at once the door she’d been pinned against jerked open. She toppled backwards and would have fallen, but before she hit the floor a pair of warm, strong arms closed around her, and she was caught against a solid, muscular chest.

The deep rumble of a familiar voice penetrated the haze around her, hoarse and ragged with rage. “Take a step toward me, Egerton. I dare you.”

Cass knew what anger was. He’d been angry at his father for as long as he could remember, but the fury pouring through him now was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

His blood burned with such rage it felt as if flames were roaring through his veins.

If Egerton so much as twitched, he was going to tear him limb from limb.

“Now, Windham. There’s no need to fly into a temper.” Egerton was backing away, his hands held out in front of him. “Hattie and I were just having a little chat, that’s all.”

“Hattie? Did you just say Hattie , Egerton?” Her childhood nickname on this vile scoundrel’s lips lit a spark inside Cass that was destined to burst into a conflagration. “You don’t call her Hattie, Egerton. Not ever . Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I beg your pardon, Windham.” Egerton backed away until he came up against the iron railing and could go no further. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I was just?—”

“Yes, you were.” There was only one reason a villain like Egerton absconded from the ballroom with an innocent lady and brought her to a dark, abandoned terrace. “You dragged her here because you meant to hurt her.”

Hattie hadn’t gone with Egerton willingly. A besotted lady sneaking off for a passionate interlude with a favored gentleman didn’t leave her slipper behind.

She felt so small against him, her slender bones so fragile, and she was shaking, violent tremors wracking her body. Whatever Egerton had done to her, it had badly frightened her.

Gently, he eased her away from him. “Go back to Lady Fosberry now, Hattie.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes two enormous indistinct smudges in her pale face. “I—I don’t want to leave without you.”

“It’s all right. Lady Fosberry and your sisters are looking for you. Go on.”

It nearly killed him to send her away alone, but Lady Fosberry was already beside herself with worry, and it was best if Hattie didn’t witness what he was about to do to Egerton.

She clutched at the lapels of his coat. “He knows about the letters, Cass.”

He’d guessed as much. He couldn’t say how Egerton had found out Hattie was the one who’d sent them, but he’d know the whole of it before he left this terrace, no matter if he had to beat the truth out of Egerton.

Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, however. “I know. It’s all right.” He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then helped her out the door, waiting to make sure she’d reached the corridor before he closed it with a soft click.

Only then did he turn to Egerton.

“Now, Windham, be reasonable. We’re old friends, are we not? There’s no reason to?—”

He broke off with a strangled whimper as Cass advanced on him, seized him by his coat and shook him until Egerton’s teeth rattled inside his head.

“We’re not friends, Egerton. We never were, and I should have done this the first time you touched those letters.”

Egerton drew himself up with the only shreds of dignity left to a man who was seconds away from a beating. “Of course, a St. Giles guttersnipe like you would resort to violence. You’re no gentleman, Windham—oof!”

Cass put all his strength into the blow to Egerton’s jaw. There was a sickly crunch as Egerton’s head snapped back. His legs gave out underneath him and he dropped to the floor, his body going as limp as a ragdoll.

Cass crouched down beside him. “How did you find out Lady Harriet is the Hattie from my letters, Egerton?”

It wasn’t likely Egerton had guessed it. Hattie was a unique nickname, and not one of the usual derivatives of the name Harriet. Lady Fosberry and Hattie’s sisters referred to Hattie by the nickname occasionally, but not usually in formal company.

Someone must have told Egerton, but who?

“I don’t have to tell you a damned thing, Windham.” Egerton pressed his gloved fingers to his mouth, where a thin trickle of blood was seeping from the corner of his lip. “Bloody savage.”

“Very well then, Egerton. Have it your way.” He drew his arm back again, but Egerton, being the coward he was, shrank back with a whimper. “All right! Jesus, Windham. Lady Laetitia told me.”

Lady Laetitia? How the devil could Lady Laetitia possibly have found out that?—

Wait. Had he used Hattie’s nickname when he’d been speaking to her at Le Maison des Dames ?

Lady Laetitia had been there that day, too. She’d come upon them seemingly out of nowhere when he and Hattie had been discussing Lord Melrose’s continued absence from London.

He must have called her Hattie that day, and Laetitia, with the uncanny knack she had for gossip and maliciousness had been in just the right place to overhear it.

Laetitia had learned Hattie’s nickname from him .

Of course, she’d told Egerton. Laetitia wasn’t one to let such a tasty morsel of gossip slip by her. She’d known just who to bring it to, and Egerton, who despised him, must have been only too delighted to hear it.

Egerton had been seeking revenge against him ever since he’d ended their friendship over the letters. What better way to get back at him, and at the same time win himself a wealthy bride? God knew Egerton was never going to have one of Lord Melrose’s younger sisters otherwise.

Egerton must have told Laetitia that Cass was writing to someone named Hattie.

Laetitia had put the whole of it together that day at Madame Céline’s, and between the two of them they’d concluded that the mysterious Hattie who’d sent him all those affectionate letters was none other than Lady Harriet Parrish.

So, Egerton had made his plans, and now he was going to pay for them.

“Listen to me, Egerton, and listen well. If I find out you’ve breathed a single word against Lady Harriet, or impugned her reputation in any way, it won’t just be your jaw next time. It will be your neck.”

Egerton stared up at him with bleary eyes. His jaw was already swelling, and a large red mark that promised to turn black and blue within hours was blooming on his cheek.

“Look at me, Egerton. Do we understand each other? Not a single, bloody word.”

Egerton nodded, his eyes wide.

“Say it.”

“Not a word against Lady Harriet, or it’s my neck.”

“Very good, Egerton. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I wish you success with Lady Harriet, Windham.” Egerton spat out a mouthful of blood. “She’s under the impression it was you who told me about her letters.”

“Now where would she get that idea, Egerton?” As if he didn’t know.

Blood gushed from Egerton’s mouth as his lips split in a ghastly grin. “I told her so.”

Of course, he had.

“You know, Egerton, for all that blood pouring down your chin, you don’t appear properly chastised for your reprehensible behavior.

In the interests of making sure we thoroughly understand each other…

” He caught Egerton’s coat in his clenched fists, and with one violent wrench, thumped Egerton’s head against the wrought iron railing behind him.

It wasn’t enough. Egerton deserved so much worse, but even a St. Giles guttersnipe drew the line at murdering a peer at Lady Dumfries’s ball.

If only just.

He rose to his feet and slipped out the door without a backward glance, leaving Egerton lying in a boneless heap behind him.

Egerton would find his way out eventually. Or not.

Cass didn’t give a damn, either way.