Page 30

S ince he’d sent his carriage home, he walked from Hyde Park Street, where Emmeline lived, to Grosvenor Square and Charles Street, where he resided at Blackstone House.

The moon was half full, giving off just enough light along with the gas lanterns lining the street, making the walk easy.

Not far into his walk, something caught his eye behind a fence, and he paused to listen.

Footsteps crunched on the stone, quite unusual this time of night.

He hated to leave and not investigate. It could be a thief breaking into the townhouse there, which, he groaned at the realization, belonged to the Earl and Countess of Hartford. It was just his luck.

He eased quietly toward the fence and scanned around.

“Show yourself.” More footsteps moved farther away until he heard a gate open and close somewhere else on the property.

Whoever it was, they were gone now and unlikely to cause any trouble tonight, so he continued walking home with a grin plastered on his face, remembering Emmeline straddling him and how he had come harder and more explosively than he ever had.

Sitting in his office the next morning at eight, Mr. Thomas Ingram, his assistant, arrived on time. “Please sit.” He indicated a brown leather chair facing his large oak desk. “Winters, please bring coffee.” His butler exited.

Several minutes later, Winters arrived with coffee and a note. Andrew opened the note that bore the Langford seal. Along with Langford’s note was a gossip rag dated that morning. He read the note and the circled article three times. His heart raced, and his hands trembled.

“I’m sorry to postpone our meeting, Thomas, but I must attend to something.”

Andrew hurried out of his office, yelling to Winters, “Please see Mr. Ingram out and have my horse brought around.” He took the stairs two at a time, fighting the panic threatening to engulf him as he hurried to his chambers and quickly changed into his riding clothes.

When he exited his townhouse, his horse was saddled and waiting for him.

He mounted Storm, wondering where he should go first. To Emmeline? To Hartford Manor? Or to White’s and get inebriated? He chose Emmeline. She was more important than anyone or anything else.

Harrison opened the door as he approached. Could the butler see through walls? “She is outside in the gardens, Your Grace,” he said indifferently.

With quick strides, he entered the drawing room and went out the double doors. He scanned the gardens and found her sitting inside her new gazebo on a bench, her hands on her lap and her head down.

Every muscle and tendon in his body had tensed up painfully tight during the ride here.

He was ready to explode and take his anger out on the first person who so much as crossed his path and looked at him condescendingly.

Unfortunately, he had come into contact with no one, and the anger still churned inside his body.

Before he approached Emmeline, he paused and fought the demons down.

He could not take out his anger and frustrations on her.

She had her own to deal with if she’d read the gossip rag.

And if she hadn’t yet, she would soon enough.

“Emmeline,” he said as he approached, his feet noisy on the gravel path.

Her head swung toward him, and his heart lodged up in his throat.

She looked pale, and her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed as if she had been crying.

She had seen it then. He entered the gazebo, sat down, and took her hands in his.

“What utter nonsense they printed. As soon as I leave here, I’ll confront the Hartfords and put an end to these utter lies.

I will force the paper to retract the story.

No one makes up lies about me. Especially when it affects you. ”

Tears pooled in her eyes, and one trickled down her cheek.

He used his finger to wipe it away. Would he ever stop making her cry?

“Who the bloody hell came up with me and Lady Beatrice together in a compromising situation in the garden at midnight anyway? Never mind—I can guess. But I will not offer for the chit because someone made up lies. I just don’t understand how they knew I would be near their townhouse last night.

Perhaps the countess simply saw me walking home and used the opportunity to force a suit.

It’s no secret she’s been pushing Lady Beatrice on me ever since my father’s death.

Perhaps seeing us at the theatre sparked Lady Hartford’s scheme.

” He inhaled much-needed air after ranting on so. “Say something. Please.”

“I knew something would get in between me and my dreams, our dreams of a future together. Fate is cruel. Life is unfair.” She paused and shuddered.

“Haven’t we been through enough? How can the countess hate us so much as to do this?

” Both the words and the numbness with which she spoke them caused his heart to crack in two.

Pulling Emmeline into his arms, he rubbed her back, trying to soothe both her and him. By nature, he was not a man who hated. He may dislike a person, but hate? That deep, dark emotion hurt both the hater and the hated. It could eat away at your insides and bring you down. He had seen it happen.

But now, he was overcome with hatred for the Countess of Hartford, and his insides boiled.

God help her when he exploded and took his wrath out on her.

Nothing and no one would keep him from marrying Emmeline.

If they had to, they would elope to Gretna Green today.

He would feel bad for Lady Beatrice, knowing she had nothing to do with this, but that wouldn’t stop him.

He would find her a suitable husband to keep her from ruin if he had to, because he knew without a doubt that even if the gossip rag retracted the statement, the poor chit was as good as ruined.

“Believe me when I tell you, I will make this disappear.” He kissed her on the cheek and left to visit Hartford Manor.

Once in front of their whitewashed brick, four-story townhouse, he handed the reins to his horse off to a footman, hurried up the stairs, and knocked on the door.

It was answered immediately, and he placed his calling card on the silver tray the butler held in his hand. “Tell Hartford I expect him to see me immediately.” He gave their butler points for not looking affronted.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he said as he bowed. “Please remain here, and I will return momentarily.”

Andrew watched the butler ascend the stairs, go down a hall, and return straightaway. “His Lordship will see you now. Please follow me.”

Once inside Hartford’s study, the earl looked up from his desk. “Please have a seat, Your Grace.” He indicated one of two leather chairs facing his desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” The earl appeared calm and composed, which surprised Andrew.

He tossed the gossip rag—the same one Langford had sent him not two hours ago—onto his desk. “Have you seen this?”

Hartford picked up the scandal sheet and read the circled article.

The more he read, the redder his face became and the more his hands shook.

He placed the sheet down, went to the door, opened it, spoke to someone on the other side, and then returned to his seat.

“Is this true? Have you compromised my daughter?”

“No. I have been nowhere near your daughter except for the times your wife has tried to force her on me. And those times were witnessed by crowds, such as last evening at the theatre. I don’t appreciate being accosted when in the company of my friends.

” His voice was louder and harsher than he intended.

The earl frowned. “Apologies for Lady Hartford’s behavior. But who would make up such a story?” He gasped. “My daughter will be ruined whether it’s true or not. You will have to marry her, Your Grace.”

“No. I. Will. Not.” He punctuated each word by itself and gave Hartford his most ducal, don’t test me stare.

Hartford stood up, almost knocking his chair over.

He placed his hands on his desk and leaned forward, looking panicked.

“You have to. There is no reason you cannot. You are unmarried and must marry to produce heirs to carry on your name and the dukedom.” He pulled at his thinning hair.

“My daughter is innocent in this, and you mean to ruin her life.”

Andrew stood, crossed his arms on his chest, and looked down at the earl.

“ I am innocent in this. You want me to ruin my life to save your daughter? I am an honorable man, and if what was printed were true, I would offer for Lady Beatrice’s hand.

But it is a lie, and I will not offer for her under any circumstances. ”

Gasps came from the doorway as the countess stood there with her mouth open. Lady Beatrice stood beside her looking nervous as she cried.

The earl stood up and turned to his wife, looking displeased.

“Both of you come in and close the door. I don’t need the whole household gossiping about this, although I presume all the drawing rooms in London are abuzz already.

” He indicated the chairs in front of his desk.

“Sit. Your Grace, you may take my chair.”

“I prefer to stand,” Andrew said as he leaned on one corner of the desk, staring daggers at the countess. If she wanted to play with fire, she had to prepare to be burned.

Hartford held up the gossip rag and waved it at his wife. “What did you do?”

“Perhaps I should wait outside while you discuss this,” Andrew said.

“No,” said the earl. “This involves you. Please stay.” He looked between his wife and daughter. “Now. Who is responsible for these lies?”

Mother and daughter looked at each other. Lady Hartford looked determined while Lady Beatrice silently cried. “I came up with a solution to a precarious and scandalous situation, my dear,” Lady Hartford said to the earl.

“Explain.”