A Dangerous Expectation (The Gentlemen Next Door) by Cecilia Gray Page A

her wits so that by the time the wedding date arrived in the fall, she would be able to stand beside her sister before a church full of hundreds (half of them men, no doubt!) without quaking with fear that she might blurt an inappropriate word. A summer in the country would mean solitude—blessed, blessed solitude.
    The carriage lurched as the clop of horses’ hooves slowed to a stop and the beasts neighed against the pull of their reins. She peeked outside. It was dark, although a full moon illuminated the night sky. She could see out the outline of a two-story house that couldn’t have had more than ten windows, a neighboring cottage’s roof, and a small stable. Modest, indeed. And perfect.
    "My apologies for the lateness, miss, the detour took longer than expected," the coachman said as he opened the carriage door and offered her a hand. This she deftly ignored as she leapt from the carriage, lest she say, "Longer than you expected, perhaps, but the rest of us can calculate."
    Her shoes hit the ground with a moment’s waver, but she righted herself and felt steady. The soft earth beneath her shoes felt so different from the cold, hard streets of London.
    "I’ll see to your bags." The coachman trailed behind her as she stepped closer to peer up at the house. "I must drive down the road to inform Lady Chesterley you’ve arrived. There’s a note that she’s to be informed to welcome you."
    "But I’m a week early," she protested. "And it is past dark." She hated stating the obvious.
    "As you wish—however, it was implied that it would be best to follow her instructions regardless of the hour," the coachman said.
    Cassandra swallowed a sigh. Knowing Lady Chesterley, he was probably right. Better to let the lady welcome her now than tolerate the tirade if she felt usurped. Besides, if he fetched Lady Chesterley, the driver would leave her be, and she would have a few moments to settle in.
    "Then make haste," she said. "I’ll see myself in and ring for tea."
    "Are you sure?"
    I’m sure I can manage to walk into a house and ring for tea without help. She bit her tongue and managed a humble nod. He was only being polite, only asking what was expected, after all.
    After opening the front door and setting her bags in the hallway, the coachman returned to his carriage. Cassandra heard the whicker of the horses and the crunch of the turning wheels running over stone.
    He was making haste, indeed.
    Cassandra peered into the house that would be hers for the summer.
    Lucas Willoughby had been given the house, the neighboring workman’s cottage, and the surrounding lands as part of a barony from his brother. He’d assured Cassandra that he had no need for the residence and that the meager staff—an elderly couple—would be happy to attend to her.
    This would be the first time Cassandra had ever lived alone. While she already missed her sister, she was positively giddy with the prospect of being on her own. Of being allowed to do whatever she wanted when she wanted. Without the constant warnings and naggings about how her experiments might burn down the house (it had only been the one time) or she was ruining her expensive clothes (which was poppycock because her sister was infamously miserly when it came to their personal purchases).
    With a wide smile, she stepped further into the foyer.
    She should ring for the elderly couple, but it was late and she didn’t want to trouble them with her awkwardness. Besides, she wanted a few more moments alone.
    The house was hushed, quiet. Cassandra could hear the leaves outside rustling in the breeze. There was another noise—a crackling and popping sound.
    She walked past a sitting room, peering in quickly to determine the source of the noise wasn’t inside. It was then she noticed a door down the hall with a glow of light seeping under it.
    Cassandra felt drawn to the light, to the warmth she could feel, and the crackling sound registered as a fire just as she opened the door to a