“If you meant Benjamin Hadleigh, Earl Somerton,” Cassian’s brows knotted, “he despises musicales.”
Cecilia was on the verge of begging the ground to open and swallow her whole. It was apparent that not only was Cassian unwilling to help, but he was also willing and ready to let her dig her grave the more she went on with her flustered ramble.
“I may have gotten the details wrong, but you do know what I mean—” she pleaded with her eyes, begging him to cosign on her lie. “Thething, remember…”
Cassian paused in bemusement for a moment. She held her breath. At last, he smiled widely, “Oh, yes,thatthing. I cancelled that thing. So yes, Rainsville, we will attend this Sunday. Thank you for your invitation.”
The earl’s smile was from ear to ear, and he seemed to either ignore—or dismiss—Cecilia’s unfortunate attempt to wiggle out of the invitation.
Disconsolate, her shoulders slumped, and she bit the inside of her cheek while the earl and Cassian shook hands.
She did not know how to act like a wife in love with her husband—if that was how the earl thought she and Cassian were. Inlove.
“My wife will love to see you, Your Grace,” Solomon crowed. “And not to brag, but she will be honored to be the first lady to host the newest Duchess of Tressingham.”
Forcing a smile, Cecilia waited until the earl rode off before she turned to Cassian. “Before I address your non-support—”
“Of an unnecessary lie.”
“—I need to ask you, does he know?”
Heading to the main house, Cassian replied, “Whatever do you mean?”
“Does he know the truth of our marriage?” she asked as they stepped on the back portico.
“Well, it was slathered over every newspaper in London and probably made the headlines overseas, so yes, I do assume heknows. However, you will not stray from the topic at hand. What punishment shall I give you for breaking my rule?”
She stopped in her stride. “You arenotgoing to spank me.”
As she reached for the handle, Cassian grabbed her hand and spun her around, then caged her hands above her head.
“I am not—” His mouth cut off her arguments. She strained against her confinement, and yet she could not get away from the relentless kiss.
He caught her lower lip between his teeth and stroked over it with his tongue, lavishing her with soft nibbles and hot, urgent kisses. His body pressed hers back into the wall, trapping her body tight against his.
His kiss offered no mercy or escape, but Cecilia was not looking for either and responded to the violence of his kiss with her own passion. She wrenched her mouth from him, and while she expected to see reckless abandon in his gaze, the hard slate of his eyes both entranced and pinned her.
Unbidden, her heart took residence in her throat. What was he thinking?
“What is it?” she challenged him.
“I am trying to see the fearless woman who kissed me three weeks ago, and not the timid mouse who tried to wiggle away from a harmless dinner invitation,” Cassian murmured.
His words almost pummeled her knees from under her. “I was taken by surprise, that is the truth.”
“The truth is, you are allowing that one hour in your life to rule you.”
“It was the worst night of my life!” she bristled.
“And your response is to hide away?” Cassian asked while he lightly wrapped two knuckles on her temple. “No, sweet Cecilia, the sticking point in your life is your obsession with propriety hidden by layers of deep insecurities.”
“What insecurities?” She asked, mind boggled. “I have no such things.”
“Yes, youdo,” he stressed. “See, what you’re not realizing is that you and I have received the same conditioning. While you internalized the criticism as an attack on your character and twisted yourself into knots to fit their opinions, I used the same criticism to realize others’ opinions of me are not what makes me who I am,” Cassian pulled away and went to pull the door in.
Looking over his shoulder, he finished with, “I freed myself from the shackles of opinions, and I could not be happier. I think you ought to do the same.”
He strode inside, leaving Cecilia to wilt against the wall; the truth of his words was like a scalpel under her skin. She could not—wouldnot allow herself to crumble, knowing Cassian had seen through her façade as if she were cheesecloth.
