Page 28 of The Lady's Last Mistake
Grant peered at her a prolonged moment before answering. “A sliver of wood. He sustained the injury when someone hit him in the head with a piece of a broken table during a tavern brawl. It was causing a fair amount of pain.”
“You removed it?”
“He didn’t come to me for me to leave it in.”
Cassie ignored his sarcasm as she wandered around the tall lantern, a finger trailing along the smooth lenses. “Does Miss Matthews assist you?”
“You’re asking me questions to avoid the conversation we need to have.”
She gaped, taken aback at the accusation. “I am not.” She’d merely been curious about the woman in the kitchen.
Grant rolled down the cuff of one sleeve. The motion was slow and oddly intimate.
“Hannah assists me here and at my home surgery, at Thornton House.”
“So, she knows the truth? That you’re a peer?”
At his nod, she felt those claws under her skin sharpen. Why did this trouble her? It shouldn’t. She refused to let it. So what if a pretty young woman assisted Grant here and at his home? So what if he trusted her with what he’d claimed to be his most crucial secret? And now, with Cassie’s.
“That bothers you,” he observed.
She had been quiet too long. Lost in her own muddled head. “You should not have told her about Miss Banks without my permission.”
He finished with one sleeve and then began to roll down the other. “She is as trustworthy as Tris is. Hannah is my late wife’s sister. They were close. When she expressed an interestin assisting me, I indulged her, even though my brothers and father staunchly objected.”
The claws retracted a little. Annoyed with her reaction over Miss Matthews, Cassie walked toward the other side of the office, if only to put distance between them.
“Why have you come?” he asked. She decided to be honest.
“To avoid having you blacken my doorstep.”
“You are delaying the inevitable.”
Lead slid into her stomach. She was, though she hated to admit it. Grant Thornton was not trustworthy or honorable enough for her to believe he would not see his threat through to the very end.
But even though she would play his game, she would not make things simple for him. “What of Mr. Forsythe?”
He didn’t quite flinch, but she noticed the flexing of his jaw. “What of him?”
“I’ve grown rather fond of him,” she replied.
Grant snorted. “You have not.”
“Do not presume to tell me who I am and am not fond of.”
As if baited by the challenge, he came toward her. Each stride radiated malevolence. “While we are courting, you will not see Mr. Forsythe, or any other man. Is that clear?”
The demand made sense, as continuing to see other men would indicate that she had not settled on a beau, and their courtship would not be taken seriously by the marquess. But it also smacked of possessive envy. It set her back on her heels.
But then, Cassie formed a saccharine grin. “Tell me, Lord Thornton, what is your plan if this nephew you’re bargaining on enters the worldas a niece?”
There was, after all, a fifty-fifty chance of it.
Grant reached his desk and, crossing his arms, leaned a hip against the edge. “I will worry about that when the time arrives. However, you have my word that either way, I will release you from our courtship. You may end things then as you see fit.”
“I would trust the word of a gentleman, but you, sir, are not that.”
A devilish grin pinned the center of his cheeks, drawing her eyes to twin dimples. It was not adorable in the least.
