The Woman Behind the Mask by Alyson Chase

Author:Alyson Chase [Alyson Chase]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-06-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Cassie held Charles by the hand and crept towards the kitchen. She was thankful for her gloves so he couldn’t feel her sweating palms. Her stomach was a swirling mess of emotions. Exhilaration at catching their man. Discontent over their conversation in the carriage. And a funny little clutching feeling at being so close to Charles. In her house. At night. Alone.

A rattle of pans made her freeze.

Or perhaps not so alone.

Pressing her finger to her lips, she edged away from the stairs to the kitchen and headed instead for the back stairwell that led up. To her bedroom.

A shiver raced down her spine. “Step lightly,” she whispered. “I thought Mrs. Butters would be in bed. Hopefully no one else is awake.”

“Perhaps I should—”

“Shh!” She dragged him down the hall and pushed him into her room. She sagged back against the door.

The fire the maid had drawn for her was all but dead. Charles was but a silvery outline in the moonlight spilling in from her window. A large, tempting, silvery outline.

She pressed her hand to her abdomen. What was she doing? She was all for behaving recklessly if it would help to achieve her goal, but this, having Charles in her room, served no purpose. At least no reasonable one.

She sidled past him, feeling the heat from his body as she went, and lit a candle using the embers of the fire. She rose and turned to face him.

The upper half of his face was cast in shadow, but she could see the tightness of his jaw. The white slash of his lips. He held himself preternaturally still. She didn’t even see him breathe.

“I, uh, have water and a basin over here.” She stumbled as she made her way to her dressing table. “Please, sit.”

After a pause long enough where she began to wonder if he had actually frozen to stone, he trudged towards her and sank onto the delicate chair in front of the table. The image of such a powerful man seated on so dainty a seat would have made her laugh if her mouth still had the ability to move.

But she was like a doe before a predator. Waiting. Watchful. With her heart hammering a thousand beats a minute.

He turned his head up, locked her in his gaze, and the candle in her hand trembled.

“I’ll….” She swallowed, trying to bring moisture to her parched mouth. “I’ll just get a rag.”

She bustled about the room, gathering supplies. Always aware of his eyes following her every move. Of his solid, male, presence, in her private room.

She was a lackwit. Tugging off her gloves, she tried to focus on her task. She set the candle down and poured water into her washbasin. After Lydia, she should know the consequences that could befall such actions. But as much as Charles’s presence in her room, mere feet from her bed, sent a thrill through her body, it also made her feel safe.

He was a rule follower. Someone solid. Dependable. He wouldn’t let her spin too fast or far away from where she ought to be.

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