Page 50 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)

He did as she asked, ordering Watkins to pull over to the side of the road.

She slumped against the seat with relief. Then, seeing his expectant look, she said wearily, “This has to do with Sophie.”

“Sophie?” He looked astonished. Obviously, he hadn’t considered that.

With halting words, she recounted how Sophie had tried to elope and how Lord Nesfield and Lady Dundee had asked her to act as a spy in an attempt to unmask Sophie’s would-be husband. Emily glossed over her reasons for agreeing, focusing on her explanation of their plan.

She knew at once when he made the connection between her masquerade and Lord St. Clair.

Straightening in his seat, he uttered a foul oath. “Ian was one of your suspects, wasn’t he? Not only Pollock, but Ian. That’s why you’ve been so cozy with him. That’s why the dancing and the dinner parties and the museum outings.”

His chilled tone made her wrap her arms over her chest. “Yes. Lord Nesfield even suspected you, because you paid so much attention to me, but I told him that was ludicrous.”

He drove his fist into the side of the coach. “I should have realized that all this concerned Ian. But I let my jealousy of Pollock blind me to the obvious.” He glowered at her. “You’ve been spying on my closest friend, knowing that Nesfield will destroy him if he discovers Ian is the one.”

“Destroy him? No! Lord Nesfield said he would offer the man, whoever it is, money or … or something that would make him agree to leave Sophie alone.”

He looked at her in disgust. “Emily, you aren’t stupid. Do you really think Nesfield will stop at offering money? What if this lover of Sophie’s refuses Nesfield’s money? Will Nesfield threaten to ruin him? Or will he arrange for the man to be … disposed of?”

Her eyes went wide. “Y-You mean, murdered?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t put it past Nesfield. He won’t propose a duel—he knows he wouldn’t win. Instead he’ll hire footpads to accost Ian in some dark byway—”

“He never said anything about murder! Surely he wouldn’t—” She broke off in horror. A man who would threaten to send a young woman to the gallows if she didn’t do his bidding would certainly not hesitate to have someone murdered.

She took a shaky breath. “In any case, I don’t know who it is. It mightn’t be Lord St. Clair at all.”

“Or it might be. I don’t think Ian would carry off an heiress, but who can know for certain?” He leaned forward, his face taut. “Even if it isn’t Ian, you were helping that snake Nesfield see to some poor man’s ruin. Why?”

“Sophie is my friend,” she said stoutly, seizing on the explanation she’d given Lady Dundee. “I … I didn’t want to see her married to some … some—”

“Fortune-hunter? What rot! If your friend was in love with the lowliest sheep-herder, you would have gone to the ends of the earth to help them find happiness. I know you. You believe in such idiocy.” His expression tightened.

“What happened to your aversion for lying? Am I to believe you took on a masquerade you loathed, dressed in provocative gowns, and paraded yourself in front of every man in London merely to help your friend? I don’t believe it! ”

“I don’t care what you believe!”

“You’d better. Because I’m returning to London as soon as I leave you at your father’s. I shall get to the bottom of this, if I have to strangle Nesfield to do it!”

Panic descended on her. “You can’t! Talk to Lord St. Clair if you must, and Pollock, too. Warn them to keep away. But please, don’t go near Nesfield!”

He clasped her shoulders and shook her. “Why, damn it? What has he threatened to do to you?”

Tears coursed down her cheeks. “I … I can’t … tell you! You can’t do anything about it and if I tell you—”

“Is it your father’s living? Is that it? He’s threatened to take away your father’s living? Damn it, Emily, I can give your father ten livings, wherever he likes!”

“It won’t matter!” She stared distractedly about her. “Lord Nesfield knows things about me … he says he’ll …”

No, she couldn’t tell him. He would rush back to Lord Nesfield for certain then, no matter how much she begged.

Jordan was the sort to act, and he would never accept that he couldn’t prevent the marquess from having her prosecuted.

So he’d blunder in and threaten Lord Nesfield and accomplish nothing but her ruin.

She could think of only one way to prevent that.

She clasped his coat. “I’ll marry you, Jordan. I’ll be your mistress … I’ll do whatever you want! Just don’t go to Nesfield! Take me back to London with you, and I’ll … I’ll talk to him myself!”

He was staring at her now as if she were some loathsome insect.

Releasing her shoulders, he tore her clenched hands from his coat, then fell back in the seat.

“‘Things?’ What kind of ‘things’ does Nesfield know about you that are so heinous you’d offer to be my mistress to keep from having them exposed? ”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll get married, and then perhaps he won’t …” She trailed off. “What am I saying? He hates you. If we marry, he’ll be even more likely to use what he knows against me.”

Jordan was looking at her with such wariness, her heart twisted in her chest.

“Besides, you don’t want a wife with dark secrets, do you? It’s one thing to lower yourself to marry a mere rector’s daughter, but God forbid you should marry a woman who keeps things from you, who might be a thief or a … a murderer.”

“That’s enough.”

“I’d ask you to trust me,” she whispered. “But you won’t do that, will you? Not the mighty Earl of Blackmore. No, you must know everything, have control over everything. You would never be so foolish as to trust somebody else.”

“Damn you, Emily, shut up!” His eyes blazed, like two torches in the blackest night. Then he rapped sharply on the ceiling. “Go on to the rectory, Watkins!”

The coach rocked, then rumbled forward. She stared at Jordan. “What are you going to do?”

He didn’t answer. A disquieting stillness had come over him, tense and frightening.

“You’re going to speak to him anyway. Even though I’ve asked you not to. Even though you promised not to if I gave myself to you.”

That made him flinch. “I should never have made that promise. Nothing good has come of it.”

“You’re going to break it then.”

“Don’t you see? I have to. It’s for your own good. Nothing you’ve said has changed my mind about this situation. I’m leaving you at your father’s and returning to London.”

He glanced away. “But I’ll be back. No matter what you think of me, Emily, I won’t abandon you. I don’t need the tie of some dubious emotion to do right by you. We’ll be married, no matter what Nesfield says or does or—”

“If you speak to him on my behalf, there will be no marriage.”

“What do you mean?”

She had meant that Lord Nesfield’s attempts to destroy her and her family would put an end to any thoughts of marriage. But now something else occurred to her. He wanted everything his way. He made promises, but broke them if he deemed it necessary.

All the control must be on his side, because if he gave it up to anyone, then he was revealing the chink in his armor. And she couldn’t marry a man like that, no matter what happened.

“I mean, I won’t marry you. I don’t blame you for warning your friends—that’s to be expected.

But your only reason for going to Lord Nesfield is to ‘help me,’ or at least that’s what you claim.

What gives you the right to decide what’s best for me when you don’t know the entire story?

You refuse to trust my judgment. You refuse to honor your promises.

Well, if you can’t do something as simple as that, then I don’t see how we can marry. ”

He gave a dismissive gesture. “Your father will make you marry me once he hears—”

“That you’ve taken my innocence? No, he won’t. Not all men are like you. Some actually care about what their women want or need.”

“I care, devil take it! If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have offered marriage.”

“Yes, but you don’t care enough to honor my wishes or keep your promises. So I will not marry you.”

“You’re making me choose? Between speaking to Nesfield and marrying you?”

She nodded.

His voice grew bitter. “I thought you said you loved me.”

“I do. I love you enough to want us to have a real marriage, not one where you run everything and I merely play the adoring wife.”

“So you love me only as long as I do what you wish!”

“No. I love you no matter what you do. But I can’t marry you if you won’t consider my wishes, too.”

The carriage halted in front of the rectory, and she glanced out at it, thinking how strange it was to be home with everything still in such a turmoil. She thought of her parents’ love, strands of caring woven into a magnificent cloth heavy enough to withstand any tempest.

“This is absurd,” he was saying. “Our marriage has nothing to do with such matters. It’s merely a practical way to deal with the fact that you’ve been compromised. Love has no place—”

“You know something, Jordan? You’ve spent your entire life avoiding love. You say it’s because your father ruined his life by loving your mother when she wasn’t worthy of it.”

She drew in a ragged breath. “But you’ve got it all wrong. Your parents’ marriage wasn’t a disaster because your father loved your mother too much. It was a disaster because your mother didn’t love your father in return. It’s not love that destroys. It’s the lack of it.”

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “You know nothing about it.”

“Oh, yes, I do. I can spot a man who’s starved for love when I see one. But love requires trust and a willingness to give as much as one gets.” She reached for the door handle. “What a pity those are beyond you.”

Opening the door, she climbed from the carriage.

“Emily, wait—” he protested as he climbed out after her, but she turned around to block his path before he could take two steps up the walk.