Page 19 of To Seduce a Stranger

“You should have Mari take a look at that scrape.”

“Oh? Has Miss Harper healing skills, as well as culinary ones?” she asked, not looking back at him.

“She has many gifts,” he replied. “Including the gift of being able to read people.”

“Are you trying to alarm me, Mr. Cary?” Charlotte raised her hand to cover the nape of her neck.

“Not at all. I was merely observing that Mari has always been an astute judge of character. Why should that alarm you?” He snapped the twig between his fingers. “Unless, of course, you have something to hide.”

Expecting his words to produce one of those nervous, tittering laughs, he was disappointed to hear her more characteristic giggle turn into something rather more wry-sounding. “If I do, Mr. Cary,” she said, pausing on the threshold to study him with her dark eyes, “I would venture to guess I am not the only one.”

Then she was gone.

Catching himself staring at the spot where she had been standing, he spun on one foot and left through the back of the house so as not to meet her again. As he strode in the direction of the home farm, he twisted the broken twig absently around his finger.

How had she known?

He had been hiding something for so long, the secret sometimes felt more real than the lie he had been living. For more than twenty years, no one—not even the ever-astute Mari—had doubted he was what he seemed to be: an orphan who had managed through extraordinary luck not only to survive but to become a self-made man.

Coming home meant claiming his true identity. Or at least, he had expected it would.

He had seen almost immediately that there were advantages to continuing the charade of steward a bit longer, however. For one thing, his questions about the estate were more likely to receive honest answers if people believed they were speaking to one of their own.

For another, it provided a modicum of protection from those who might hope to profit from the return of the prodigal son. Charlotte Blake might insist she was not on the make, but he did not know her well enough to trust her. A feigned marriage to plain Edward Cary seemed to suit her just fine, but if she knew he was in fact the son of an earl, she would likely alter her expectations.

Given those uncertainties, he was determined to reveal as little as possible about himself to anyone.

But what if, somehow, Charlotte had already begun to suspect the truth?

Chapter 5

Based on Garrick’s description, Edward had pictured Matthew Markham as a man well past his youth, a farmer with a long-standing connection to this land, someone who would remember the old days and be able to help Edward understand what had led to the present condition of Ravenswood. So when he met a tanned, sandy-haired man, a few years younger than he, crossing the field with a sturdy stride, he hesitated.

“Mr. Markham?”

A slight narrowing of dark eyes. “Who’s asking?”

“I’m Edward Cary,” he said, stepping forward. “The new steward.”

“Cary, eh?” Markham echoed. “Some relation to the family, then.”

“Distant,” Edward lied. Or perhaps it wasn’t really a lie. Twenty-two years and four thousand miles had certainly strained the connection. “Your father is Lord Beckley’s tenant?”

“He was. He died three years ago.”

“My condolences.” He paused, considering. “If he’s been gone for three years, then you must be the man Garrick told me I’d find. Matthew Markham.”

Markham studied Edward for a long moment before giving a single jerk of his chin. “Aye.”

While Edward considered what to ask next, the other man turned slightly out of the path he’d been on and kept walking. Edward followed. “You are alone? No brothers?”

His steps did not falter. “Nay.”

“How do you manage?”

“I work hard, Mr. Cary,” he said, stopping again and sizing Edward up. “And I’d appreciate it if someone would convey as much to his lordship.”

“You’ve been bearing an unfair burden, Markham. For how long?”