The Oxford Inheritance by Ann A. McDonald Page B

give herself more time with the next assignment.
    She lost track of time under the fierce heat of the water. When she remembered Evie and their breakfast date, Cassie wrenched off the faucet and wrapped a towel around her body, piling her wet hair on top of her head. “Sorry,” she called, emerging from the bathroom. “Just let me grab some clothes, and I’ll be ready.”
    â€œDon’t feel the need to dress on my account.” The voice was male and edged with wry amusement. Cassie froze, two steps into the living room, and found herself staring into piercing dark eyes.
    It was him .
    Blond hair, angled cheekbones. He lounged on the couch, relaxed and totally self-assured. Cassie’s heartbeat quickened as she took him in, remembering their strange encounter in the midnight courtyard, and his predatory stare at the mixer.
    He rose from the sofa and approached. “Hugo Mandeville,” he introduced himself, those dark eyes trailing over Cassie’s naked shoulders, still dripping wet. She paused a moment, clutching her towel. Her mind raced. Had he tracked her down somehow?
    â€œYou must be the roommate we’ve been hearing so much about.” He smiled. “Evie is . . . Well, I don’t know where she went, but the door was open, so she can’t be far.”
    Evie. They were friends then, that was the reason he was here, Cassie realized, not to accuse her over the break-in at the vaults.
    Cassie breathed in relief as Hugo extended a hand and reached slowly to shake hers. His fingers were cool and long, like a concert pianist’s, but his skin seemed to burn against hers. Cassie snatched her hand away almost immediately, bringing it back to clasp her towel tight around her chest. She was painfully aware of her body, naked under the thin towel.
    â€œHow’s your hand?”
    Cassie blinked. “What?”
    â€œYou hurt your hand, that night.” Hugo looked at her curiously. “I didn’t recognize you for a moment, without the . . .” He gestured to his eyes, to indicate the layers of eyeliner and mascara Cassie usually wore. “You should leave it off more often,” he added, his lips curving in a smile. “You’re prettier this way.”
    She stared, thrown by the comment. Up close, Hugo’s eyes were lined with thick lashes, flecked with a gold that gave a strange halo to those fathomless dark irises.
    â€œDid you want something?” Finally, Cassie found her voice. “I can tell Evie you stopped by.”
    A flicker of amusement crossed Hugo’s face, as if he could tell how unsettled she was. “I’ll wait.” As he spoke, he sat back down on the sofa, completely at ease. “Aren’t you going to offer me tea—or a coffee, perhaps; that’s more American, isn’t it?”
    Before Cassie could reply, Evie piled through the door, laughing. “He didn’t!”
    â€œI swear it, right on the floor at Annabelle’s.” Another voice trailed her in, followed a second later by its owner, the girl who had so unceremoniously ejected Cassie from her first dorm room. Olivia.
    â€œHugo!” Evie lit up. She had pulled a men’s black cashmere sweater over her nightshirt and applied a slash of bright pink lipstick. “Perfect timing. This is my new roommate; she just had a tute, poor thing. Remember those days?”
    â€œRemember?” Olivia hugged Evie from behind, kissing her cheek affectionately. She was wearing black jeans and an elegant white T-shirt slouched off one shoulder, a tangle of gold chains Cassie recognized as belonging to Evie twisted around her neck. “I have finals this year; I have nothing but bloody sleepless nights ahead.”
    Hugo. Cassie looked back at him and realized Olivia had been calling to him in the stairs at Carlton Hall when she’d evicted Cassie from her room. They must be related; there was a definite resemblance in the honeyed tone of