Emily might have thought this some strange joke if not for two things. One, Lord Nesfield never joked. Two, Lady Dundee was loudly seconding her brother’s vow to find the scoundrel.
But who would have believed that shy, skittish Sophie would ever attempt elopement? Then again, Sophie had made that odd comment about the footman.
Something in her face must have alerted Lord Nesfield and his sister to her thoughts, for they both burst out together, “You know who he is!”
“No! Truly, I don’t! It’s just that…well, she was so nervous about her coming out that she jested about…running off with a footman.”
Lord Nesfield’s face fell. “It was not a footman, I assure you. The scoundrel is of higher consequence than that, for I have had Bow Street Runners by the score trying to discover the driver of the hired hack to no success. It is as if the bloody carriage disappeared into thin air.” Lord Nesfield lifted his lorgnette to peer at her. “Didn’t she tell you anything else? Write you about any man she had met?”
“If you’ll recall, Lord Nesfield,” Emily said stiffly, “you forbade her to write to me. And Sophie is always careful to honor your wishes.”
Lady Dundee’s muffled laugh provoked Lord Nesfield’s anger. “Well, she wasn’t so bloody careful when she ran off with that bounder!”
Emily glared at him. This wasn’t her fault, after all. “But surely she was willing to tell you who it was once the elopement failed.”
“No, damn it all!” His grizzled cheeks puffed out in indignation as he punctuated each word with a tap of his cane. “She won’t say anything!”
“Calm down, Randolph. Your dramatics won’t help the situation.” Lady Dundee smiled thinly at Emily. “It seems my niece has suddenly grown a spine. She refuses to reveal her true love’s name. No one can break her silence, not even me. All she’ll say is that they’re in love, and she’ll marry him no matter what we do or say.”
“I would have brought the insolent girl here to see if you might get the truth out of her,” Lord Nesfield grumbled to Emily, “but I feared that the blackguard would come here as well. At least he will not think to look for her in Scotland.”
“What about Sophie’s maid? Couldn’t she tell you anything?”
“She, too, ran off on the night of the attempted elopement.” Lord Nesfield sat down on the other end of the settee. “If I find her, I will string her up by her sassy tongue, I will. Never did like that maid. She was a bad influence on my Sophie.”
Emily bit back a smile. She’d yet to see a single person whom Lord Nesfield regarded as a good influence. Sophie’d had six different maids in the last five years, and this one had stayed on longer than most, given Lord Nesfield’s mercurial temper.
Lady Dundee reached forward to pour herself more tea. “About all we can determine is that Sophie met the man in London. How else could she have been put in the company of such a blackguard?”
“How else indeed,” Lord Nesfield growled. “And we know he is a fortune hunter, to be sure. If he were respectable, he would have asked me for her hand.”
With difficulty, Emily stifled a retort. Lord Nesfield’s reputation might have cowed even a respectable man. Then again, elopements seldom occurred between people of equal wealth and station. Perhaps Lord Nesfield’s concern was justified.
“He’s probably a titled man without a fortune, or some second son eager to snatch an heiress,” Lady Dundee said. “Such men would have enough family influence to keep their attempt secret from Bow Street Runners.”
Clearly, neither of them thought it was simply a man in love, someone who knew he’d never have a chance with Sophie otherwise. Given Sophie’s lack of experience, they could be right.
Lady Dundee leaned back in her chair, settling her violet satin skirts about her like an unfurling sail. “Now you see why we’re in a bind, Miss Fairchild. My niece is eager to return to her secret suitor. If we don’t discover him soon, I fear he’ll make a second attempt. And he just might succeed. We can’t keep the girl hidden in Scotland forever. People will talk. Her other suitors—and Randolph says there have been several—will want to know where she is. We must tell them something. But first we must unmask the scoundrel who started this.”
“Then I can deal with him—offer him money to be rid of him or threaten to discredit him,” Lord Nesfield put in. “But I cannot put an end to the scheme until I know who is behind it.”
Emily sighed. “I see what you mean. I only wish I could help you more. But as I said before, Sophie never spoke of being in love with any young man.”
“Ah, but you can help us,” Lady Dundee said. “We’re relying entirely on you.” Two pairs of eyes suddenly fixed on her, and the weight of their combined power hit Emily with the same force as brilliant sunlight after the curtains are opened.
Oh, no. There was more to this than she’d realized.
Lady Dundee rose from her seat and moved to sit beside Emily on the settee. That in itself was alarming, but when the woman took her hand, Emily’s fears were confirmed. Something was afoot, something she wouldn’t like.
“You see, my dear, Randolph told me of your friendship with Sophie. When we set off for Willow Crossing, it was in hopes that you would know something. But in case you didn’t, we made a plan for discovering the identity of Sophie’s lover.”
“And it involves me?”
“Yes. If you’re willing to help us. For the sake of your friend.”
Emily shifted uneasily on the hard settee. She cast a speculative glance at Lady Dundee, but avoided looking at Lord Nesfield. Lady Dundee might at least pretend that Emily had a choice. But Lord Nesfield wouldn’t give her one. He would command that she help them, knowing that Emily daren’t refuse.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked warily.
Lady Dundee’s anxious expression softened. “We need a spy, dear, someone to circulate among Sophie’s friends and keep company with her suitors…someone whom this scoundrel of Sophie’s can approach to find out information about her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Randolph has seen men watching the house in London, and Sophie seems convinced that her young man will pursue her until he succeeds. So we need a woman about Sophie’s age who can appear sympathetic to this man’s plight. If he confides in her, begs her for help in reaching Sophie, we’ll have the bounder.”
“That is why we need you,” Lord Nesfield said bluntly as he neared the settee. “We want you to be our spy.”
Emily looked wildly from Lady Dundee to Lord Nesfield, who was closing in on her. “Why, that’s absurd! Who of your set would confide in a rector’s daughter? Who could possibly believe that I could help him get to Sophie?”
“You’re quite right, of course,” Lady Dundee said smoothly. “If we introduce you as Sophie’s friend—a rector’s daughter from Willow Crossing—it will look suspicious. Even if we continue with our current story that Sophie is too ill to attend the balls, people will find it odd that you’re attending balls instead of staying by your friend’s sickbed.”
Lord Nesfield leaned toward her with a fervent gleam in his eye. “So we don’t want you to be a rector’s daughter. We want you to masquerade as Ophelia’s daughter.”
When Emily stared at him in slack-jawed amazement, he went on eagerly, “We’ll say you’re in London for your coming out. You look youthful enough to pass for eighteen. Both of Ophelia’s real daughters are too young yet to come out, and by the time they reach the proper age, most people will have forgotten all about you. All you need do is speak soulfully of your dear cousin Sophie and how distraught you are over her illness. A few balls, some breakfasts, and I’m sure our man will approach you.”
Forgetting that she was just a nobody and they were two very important members of the nobility, she said, “You’re both mad! It cannot work! Be a spy? Try to entice some man to approach me on Sophie’s behalf? It’s insanity!”
When they merely stared at her as if waiting for her to finish a t
antrum, she fumbled frantically for some argument to convince them. “No fortune hunter would come near me, and certainly not if I pretended to be one of the family! He’d be a fool to approach a supposed family member when he knows you’re all looking for him!”
“But unless you pretend to be a member of the family, he won’t believe you have the power to help him,” Lady Dundee said in a placating tone. “So this is what we propose. Once we reach London, we’ll make it known that you and your Uncle Randolph dislike each other. We’ll portray you as a willful girl who ignores her elders. That will make you seem sympathetic to the lovers, and possibly gain you the man’s trust.”
“If by some chance your supposed position as an heiress would attract the fortune hunter to yourself instead,” Lord Nesfield added, “that would work very well, too. That would demonstrate his fickle nature to my daughter and make her abandon her hopes.”
Goodness gracious, they’d thought this out carefully, hadn’t they? They’d planned an entire deception around her before even asking her to help them. And now they thought she would go along with it!
“I can’t participate in such a deceit,” she protested. “It’s not right!”
Lady Dundee patted her hand kindly. “Don’t think of it as a deceit, my dear. It’s an adventure, one that will help your friend. You do want to help keep Sophie out of the hands of this fortune hunter, don’t you?”
“Of course, but—”
“It’ll be fun,” Lady Dundee went on as she tightened her grip on Emily’s hands. “You’ll see. Think of all you can experience. A girl like you would never get the chance for a London coming out. This will allow you to enjoy the town, to wear expensive gowns and go to the most prestigious balls.” Leaning closer, she winked at Emily. “Who knows? You might even catch a wealthy husband of your own. Isn’t that a temptation?”
Jerking her hands free, Emily leapt to her feet, every inch of her body bristling. “No, Lady Dundee, it is not! I don’t know what sort of frivolous girl you think I am, but I don’t desire expensive gowns and a wealthy husband gained through deceit and trickery!” At Lady Dundee’s surprised expression, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. “I’m sorry about Sophie’s predicament, but I don’t think she’d wish me to do something as abominable as this to help her. I cannot do it. I will not!”
Lady Dundee cocked her head and ran her gaze over Emily, as if seeing her for the first time. “How very interesting. A young woman with principles. It’s so rare these days, I hardly recognized it.” She folded her hands in her lap with a shrug. “Very well, then. I see you won’t serve our purpose.”
“Nonsense!” Lord Nesfield had been silent throughout Emily’s emotional outburst, but now he spoke out loudly. “Leave us, Ophelia. I must speak to Miss Fairchild alone.”
“If she doesn’t want to help—” Lady Dundee began.
“Leave us, Ophelia!” he bellowed, making even his formidable sister jump.
With a swish of ample skirts, Lady Dundee stood. “Very well. But don’t browbeat the girl, Randolph, or I shall hear of it.” She cast Emily a penetrating glance. “I may not agree with her motives, but I respect them. Besides, it does us no good if she gives her help unwillingly.”
“She will not give it unwillingly, I assure you,” Lord Nesfield said in a low voice as his sister swept from the room. “Will you, Miss Fairchild?”
Emily’s heart sank as the drawing room door shut behind the countess. She knew what was coming. “Please, my lord, you must understand my position—”
“Silence!” The marquess reached into his embroidered waistcoat, then drew out an object he kept curled in his bony hand. “I was afraid you might balk at this. Never mind that I gave your father his living, that your family has been indebted to me since the day you were born. You think to ignore that obligation. Well, I will not allow it.”
He held out his hand. In it was a small blue bottle containing a few drops of fluid. She knew only too well what it was. Laudanum. The remains of the laudanum she’d made up for Mama, to help soothe her pain from her wasting disease.
The same laudanum that had killed her.
When he was sure she’d recognized it, he tucked it back in his waistcoat pocket with a grim smile. “I see you understand. Until now, I have thought it best to let everyone believe that your mother died of her illness. After all, it would have reflected badly upon me to have it known that my rector’s wife had killed herself. It would have caused a great scandal.”
“I don’t know for certain that she killed herself,” Emily protested. But of course she did.
On the horrible morning when she’d found Mama dead and the empty laudanum bottle lying on the floor beside the bed, Emily had been all alone. Unfortunately, just as Emily had found her mother, Lord Nesfield had arrived to speak to her father. He’d seen everything and had guessed the truth at once.
Distraught, she’d asked his advice. She’d wanted to confess all to Papa, but Lord Nesfield had insisted that she keep silent. He’d pointed out that hearing how her mother had really died would hurt her father deeply—not to mention what would happen if others learned the truth. A rector’s wife committing the ultimate sin against God would be a scandal so far-reaching, it would ruin her father forever. So she’d agreed to tell everyone that her mother had simply died of her disease. No one, not even Papa, was to know about the laudanum.
The sour pain of guilt gripped her as it had so many times before. It was her fault Mama had died—hers alone. If only she’d been more circumspect about where she kept the laudanum! In the throes of great pain, Mama couldn’t resist temptation. And secretly, Emily didn’t blame her. Perhaps it was wicked of her, but she thought it abominable the way the Church passed judgment on such matters.
“Come now, Miss Fairchild,” Lord Nesfield said coldly, “we both know your mother purposely took that laudanum to end her suffering. If I choose to let that be known, your father would be ruined.”
Could he do that? Would he be so awful? Yes, he would do it.
On the other hand, Papa would not want her to engage in such a deception even at the risk to his future. “I-I don’t know…”
“If you’re still balking, let me point out one other matter. I have no proof that she took the laudanum herself. You might have given her the laudanum to end her suffering. This might not be a suicide after all, but a murder.”
Emily stared at him aghast. He had never even intimated…Surely he couldn’t believe…
Without remorse, he lifted his lorgnette to focus his gaze on her. The refractive glass made his eyes appear large and chilling. “I do not know what really happened, do I? All I have is a nearly empty bottle of laudanum. And everyone knows you dabble in physic.”
“But I would never—”
“Wouldn’t you? To save your mother from further suffering? Granted, some might think it a noble gesture.” He patted his waistcoat pocket. “But the law does not. If I decided to unburden myself about the events of that day to…say…my friend, the magistrate, and made it clear that you could have done it yourself, he would be very interested. What do you think, Miss Fairchild? If it came to a trial, whom do you think they would believe?”
The room seemed to sway around her. The answer to that question was painfully obvious. She’d have no chance against Lord Nesfield’s power and lofty station; there was no proof of her innocence. Besides, even if she could win such a trial—which was doubtful, given his connections—she and Papa would still be outcasts everywhere. “You wouldn’t—You couldn’t be so cruel—”
“Your poor father. To see his daughter brought to trial for murder. It would kill him.” He gave an unearthly cackle. “It would kill you. And what a pity to see such a pretty girl’s life cut off in its prime.”
She shuddered. “You would lie about me that way? You would bring me to trial for a murder I didn’t commit? How could you?” She grasped at straws. “It would mean scandal for you, to have your rector’s daughter accused of
murder.”
“Do you think I care about scandal with my daughter’s well-being at stake? You wish to protect your father.” He pounded his cane on the floor. “Well, I shall protect my daughter’s reputation and future at all costs.”
She stared into the fire, wishing it would spill out and consume Lord Nesfield with all his nasty threats. “Why me? Surely there’s some other poor girl you can blackmail into doing as you wish.”
“Because you are the best person for our scheme.” His impersonal eyes ran over her with the thoroughness of a man choosing a prize race-horse. “You’re genteel enough to pass for nobility, and you’re clever enough to learn what you don’t know. No one of consequence in society knows you, so you won’t be recognized by some friend. The only ball you’ve attended where any of the ton might have met you was a masquerade ball, and you wore widow’s weeds and a mask. You didn’t even dance, for God’s sake.”
Folding his arms over his chest, he said, “So you see, it must be you. No one will know you, nor care when you disappear and return to your safe little life here.”
No one would know her. That wasn’t true! Lord Blackmore had seen her without her mask. Of course, she could hardly tell Lord Nesfield that she’d been alone in a carriage with his enemy, a man notorious for his associations with women. For one thing, Lord Nesfield wouldn’t believe it. And if he did, it would merely give him one more thing to hold over her.
Besides, she wasn’t even sure Lord Blackmore would recognize her. The earl had only seen her briefly by moonlight. He’d probably already forgotten her face.
Still, others might know her, no matter what Lord Nesfield believed. “What about Lawrence, my cousin? If he sees me in London—”
“Do not be absurd. A London barrister does not attend society balls. And if you happen upon him in the street, you can tell him you came to London with Sophie.”
The Forbidden Lord Page 5