Page 3 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)

“That you were a widow eager for a little company. Yes.” A sense of impending doom descended on him. “Tell me I wasn’t mistaken.”

“But you were! This is all a terrible error! I’m not a widow. I’m in mourning for my mother, who died last year.”

The sense of doom roared in his head. She was probably some squire’s virginal daughter. And he’d carried her off in his carriage without regard for who might see them.

No, he couldn’t be that stupid. “You’re joking. This is some sort of game.”

“Not at all! I’m telling the truth!”

“Am I to understand that you’re unmarried?” His stomach began to churn.

Her head bobbed furiously.

“And pure as the driven snow, I suppose.” Anger exploded in his brain. How could he have acted so heedlessly? “You’re right, madam. This is indeed a terrible error.”

“You must take me back at once, now that you see I’m not the sort of woman you thought. The longer you keep me out here, the more my reputation suffers. Besides, my cousin will be looking for me.”

And who else, her eager father? Her scheming aunt? What if she’d lied about mistaking him for her cousin? Overzealous mamas had laid traps for him before. It was one reason he’d always given a wide berth to unmarried young women.

And what about how she’d defended him so adamantly? What young woman would have done so if not to make an impression upon him? She must have known he was eavesdropping. She hadn’t acted at all surprised to find him standing there.

Cold anger settled in his gut like a bad meal. “I suspect your cousin knows exactly where you are right now.”

She dropped her fan into her lap. “What do you mean?”

He interpreted her wary expression as more indication of her guilt.

“You know exactly what I mean. This was all a little plot, wasn’t it?

If I return to the ball, I’ll find a host of people awaiting us, ready to force me into ‘fixing’ my indiscretion.

Well, let me tell you something. If you think I shall let some clever chit trap me into marriage—”

“You don’t think that I … that this….” She sputtered to a halt, then drew a shaky breath. “You think I purposely did this? Made you take me out in a carriage unchaperoned at the risk to my reputation?”

“What else am I to think? You defended me when you surely realized I was standing there listening. All that nonsense about mistaking me for your cousin—”

“Why, you insolent, presuming blackguard! I see that I misjudged Sophie’s information entirely! Obviously, you know only one sort of female, which explains why you don’t recognize a decent woman when you meet one!”

“Oh, I recognize decent women quite well,” he snapped, his ancient fear rearing its ugly head. “They play games like this to catch themselves prominent, rich husbands. They want money, position, and the chance to run a man’s life into the ground, and they’ll use anything to get it.”

When she gave a choked gasp, he added with deliberate coarseness, “Indecent women, on the other hand, are honest in what they expect for the pleasures they provide. They’re easy to manage, take little time away from important pursuits, and don’t ask for more than a man can give.

Oh, yes, I recognize the difference. And I prefer indecent women to so-called decent women any day. ”

Like a banner unfurling, she straightened.

“You may find this hard to believe, Lord Blackmore, but there are women other than the ones you’ve described, who don’t need to advance their position or fortune by tricking some hapless man into marriage.

I’m one of them. I’m quite happy with my own life, thank you very much, and don’t need to ‘run’ yours to find satisfaction. ”

She fixed him with a frosty gaze. “I most certainly did not set out to trap you. I merely made a mistake, one that appears more grievous for every moment I spend in your disgusting presence!”

The vehemence in her voice took him by surprise. She did look the very picture of affronted womanhood. But then, she’d have to be a bit of an actress to pull this off, wouldn’t she?

“So you claim not to have known I was listening to your conversation?”

“I do not have such appalling bad manners as to allow my friend to gossip about a man within his hearing!”

“All right,” he said in clipped tones. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth. If you were oblivious to my presence on the balcony, why on earth did you defend me to Lady Sophie when you had no idea who I was or whether the gossip was true?”

She met his gaze coldly. “I knew of your work in Parliament. That in itself seemed to show you to be honest and good.”

He winced at her emphasis on “seemed.” Had he been too hasty in his judgment?

The coach lurched, throwing her to the side long enough to expose one trim and decidedly pretty ankle before she righted herself.

“Besides,” she continued archly, “it’s not right for people to malign a man when he’s not there to defend himself.

If one doesn’t know the truth, one should keep silent.

My father, the rector of Willow Crossing, raised me not to listen to such idle gossip. ”

“Your father is a rector?” His uneasiness deepened. A rector’s daughter setting a trap for him? That seemed unlikely. He groaned. He’d made a nasty mistake in letting his anger get the better of him. Despite her mask, he could see her eyes snap.

“He is indeed. You could learn a lot from him. He doesn’t judge people without knowing anything about them. He's always quoting Matthew 7:1, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’”

For God’s sake, the woman was reciting the Bible, chapter and verse.

“I live by those words,” she went on, now fully provoked. “No one but God has the right to judge a person’s behavior, not even you. And furthermore—”

“Enough, madam.”

She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “There’s the scripture that says—”

“Madam, leave off!! I believe you.”

Her expression was priceless, almost disappointed, like that of a preacher denied a pulpit. “You what?”

“I believe you.” Even he, with his cynical view of the world, couldn’t believe that a woman could quote scripture and plot against him at the same time. Glancing away, he grumbled, “Clearly, you’re not ... the sort of woman I took you for.”

“I should think not,” she said loftily.

Gritting his teeth, he added, “I’m sorry I offended you.”

There was a long, chilly silence from the other end of the carriage.

Good God, he’d made a horrible mistake. He would have recognized it earlier, but he’d been so furious at being caught in this devilish position that he hadn’t been thinking.

Obviously, if she’d been trying to trap him, she wouldn’t have told him so soon of her error.

She would have tried enticing him to compromise her.

But she’d done none of that. What’s more, he’d just insulted her beyond countenance. He shot her a glance, wondering what she was thinking.

She watched him with all the wariness of a cornered deer. “So you admit I was not trying to trick you?”

“Yes.”

“You acknowledge that you were entirely in the wrong?”

“Yes, yes, deuce take it!”

She sniffed and drew herself up. “You needn’t curse at me.”

“Now you’re correcting my language, for God’s sake.” He sighed. “You’re as pernicious as my stepsister. She bedevils me until I admit I’m wrong. And she, too, corrects my language and quotes scripture in an attempt to make me mend my ways.”

“Then she must spend a great deal of time correcting your language and memorizing scripture.”

He couldn’t help laughing. “Indeed she does.” The girl had a spine, he’d give her that. No woman but Sara ever dared to criticize him to his face, although many undoubtedly did behind his back.

This rector’s daughter was an intriguing little thing. Not a simpering, foolish bone in her body, unlike most of the young women foisted upon him these days. Was she pretty as well behind that mask? The rest of her certainly looked promising.

Good God, what was he thinking? She was a virgin. “A rector’s daughter quoting scripture,” he said, trying to fix the thought in his head. “I’ve truly caught myself an innocent, haven’t I?”

“Yes.” She smoothed her skirts primly. “Now you must throw me back.”

“Indeed I must.” But he made no move to order his coachman to turn the carriage around. First they must consider the potential problems arising from his fatal error. “Tell me something, Miss … Miss …”

“Fairchild,” she supplied.

He groaned. “Even your name cries out purity and innocence.” As the carriage rumbled on, he crossed his arms over his chest. “How shall I get you back to the ball without ruining your reputation? If your cousin is looking for you, he’s liable to be standing on the doorstep when we return.”

A troubled frown marred her pretty brow. “Oh, dear, you’re right. Even if he doesn’t know I’ve left the ballroom, there are the servants. They saw us leave together.”

“You needn’t worry about that. I paid them well to keep our departure secret.

” When she cast him a look of outrage, he shrugged.

“I don’t like having my private affairs bandied about the country.

They won’t speak of this to anyone, I assure you.

Nonetheless, someone else may have seen us leave together. And if we return together ...”

She slumped against the seat. “That’s true. You aren’t exactly inconspicuous.”

No one had ever put it quite like that before. He smiled. “I’m afraid not. Believe me, at the moment, I wish I were.”

Several people were sure to have noted that she’d walked out of the ballroom with the Earl of Blackmore. And when she didn’t return for some time, then entered with him ...

He grimaced. She hadn’t needed to set a trap. The result would be the same. All it required was one person standing in the entrance. Then everyone would know she’d been off in a carriage with an earl notorious for his encounters with unsavory women, and she’d be ruined for certain.

He didn’t want to ruin her. He had this profound urge not to hurt her, and he didn’t know why. Because she was so completely innocent? Or because she’d defended him with no reason but the principle of the matter?

There was a sudden thumping from his coachman above. Then Watkins said, his voice muffled by the carriage roof, “We’re approachin’ the main road, milord. Where to?”

“Halt here for a moment, Watkins.” Jordan cast her a searching glance. “Well, Miss Fairchild, what do we do? I could take you home, then come back and pretend I’d been out alone. But you’d have to brazen it out later, tell some lie for how you got home and why you left without your escort.”

“I do not tell lies, Lord Blackmore,” she said stiffly. “It isn’t in my nature.”

He bit back a smile. “I see. Then perhaps you have some plan for reentering the ballroom without being noticed?”

She toyed with the velvet cord on her reticule, then brightened.

“What if you bring me to the edge of the gardens? I can slip in there and emerge into the ballroom as if I’d been walking outside the whole time.

Then I needn’t lie. If you stay out a while longer, then come in with your tale about going for a ride alone, we might pull it off. ”

“In other words, you won’t lie, but you don’t mind forcing me to.”

“I’m sorry,” she said in obvious chagrin. “You’re right, it’s very bad of me to—”

“It’s all right.” He tamped down on the laugh bubbling up in his throat. Devil take it, he’d never met a woman so principled. Nor could he remember ever having so much fun with one. “Believe me, I wouldn’t hesitate to tell a fib to save your reputation.”

A wan smile touched her lips. “Thank you.”

He knocked on the ceiling, then ordered Watkins to drive back to the gardens. While the servant maneuvered the coach about, Jordan returned his attention to Miss Fairchild.

She was staring out the window. Her bombazine gown was so black it swallowed up whatever faint light the moon shone on it, leaving her hands and her face to reflect the moon’s glow.

And what a face, all soft curves and secrets.

If only he could see more, could rip the mask off and get a good look at her.

What he could see was exquisite. Her brow, so high and moonlight pale …

fine rounded cheeks ... generous lips. Her hair looked like spun silk even inside the dark carriage and—

What had come over him? He was waxing poetic, something he never did, and certainly shouldn’t with the prim little Miss Fairchild. He mustn’t even think of her in those terms. She wasn’t his sort at all.

Suddenly, she met his gaze. “Lord Blackmore, I really must apologize for getting you into this mess.”

“No,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “it was an honest mistake on both our parts. With any luck, no one will ever know it happened.”

“And if they do?”

She was asking if she could trust him to make it right. Suddenly, he wanted very badly to reassure her of his character. “I would do what must be done, Miss Fairchild. Don’t concern yourself about that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to marry me,” she hastened to say, “but if you could make up some story or … or …”

“I’ll do what needs to be done, don’t you worry,” he said, more firmly. Some story, indeed. As if any story could safely extricate them from this. “But we won’t be found out. I’ve successfully wriggled out of far more compromising situations.”

“I’m sure you have.”

He smiled at her arch tone. He wished she weren’t wearing that damned mask. Though the moon graced her figure with silvery light, he could only discern a little of her expression. It bothered him that she could see his face, but he couldn’t see hers.

“Still,” she added, “if there’s any way I can make up for my error—”

“There is one way,” he said, the dangerous words out of his mouth before he could stop them. “You could let me see you without the mask.”