Page 51 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)

“What do you plan to do? Go in and tell my father that you’ve compromised me, that I’ve engaged in all manner of wickedness? Then trot off to London and ruin my life while I endure his lectures? No. Leave me some dignity at least.”

“Come now—”

“No. Go back to London. Talk to your friend. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any harm to him. Just remember that if you speak to Nesfield, that is the end of anything between you and me.”

He glared at her, his face ashen, but she simply crossed her arms over her chest and continued to block his path.

“All right,” he finally said coldly. “If that’s the way you want it.”

Then turning on his heel, he climbed back into the carriage and ordered the driver to drive on.

She held her breath until the carriage was out of sight, wondering if Papa was watching out of the window even now.

It didn’t matter. She would have to tell him everything, no matter how much it hurt him.

He was her only hope. If she impressed upon him the seriousness of the situation, he would surely help her return to London.

If she could reach London before Jordan, she might find a way to convince Lord Nesfield that this mess wasn’t her doing. And she might actually beat Jordan there: Jordan and Watkins were exhausted, and they wouldn’t share her sense of urgency.

Hurrying into the house, she fumbled about in her mind for how to tell Papa why she was here. But she stopped short at the sight of not only her father, but Lawrence sitting in the drawing room.

Surprise gave way to relief. “Thank God! Lawrence, you can take me back to London. How did you get here? On your horse? I can ride. If we hurry—”

“Slow down, child,” her father interrupted. “What are you doing here? How did you come? Lawrence has been telling me the most astonishing story—”

“There’s no time for that, Papa.” She turned to Lawrence. “We must leave for London at once.”

“What’s wrong?” Her cousin’s face grew drawn. “Is it Sophie? My God, what have they done to her? If that beast of a father has hurt her, I’ll …”

He trailed off as he saw the confused expression on her face.

“Sophie?” she whispered. “You’re concerned for Sophie?”

Color suffused his face, and that’s when she knew. Dear heavens. “You’re the one.”

“The one?” Casting her father a helpless look, Lawrence mumbled, “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes, you do, devil take you.”

“Emily!” her father said sternly. “How dare you use such language!”

She wanted to laugh. If only her father knew …

All the things she’d done, the words she’d spoken, and for what?

Because she hadn’t seen what had been right under her nose all this time.

Lawrence’s dramatic response to Sophie …

Sophie’s dramatic response to him. She should have realized they were attracted to each other.

Granted, Lawrence had claimed to despise the “snobbish” Lady Sophie. Yet after the ball, he’d not been so vehement in his dislike. He’d even asked a casual question or two about Sophie and her family, but she’d assumed …

“How did you manage to court her when her father keeps her so secluded?” she asked, trying to make some sense of it. “I know he never allowed it.”

“Court her?” her cousin said in feigned surprise.

“Curse you, Lawrence, stop this foolish pretense. I know you tried to elope with Sophie.”

It was her father’s turn to be confused. “Lawrence tried to elope with Lady Sophie? But when? How?”

“In London a few weeks ago,” Emily explained tersely. “Lord Nesfield caught her as she was leaving the house, and Lawrence was forced to flee.”

All this time, and it had been Lawrence. She might as well put the noose around her neck herself. Her own cousin. Lord Nesfield would never believe she’d had no part in Lawrence’s plans.

“Lawrence,” her father demanded in his most ministerial voice. “Is this true?”

Lawrence looked from her to her father. Then he crumpled. “Yes.”

“May God have mercy on us all,” her father muttered. “Lord Nesfield will have my hide for this.”

He’ll have more than that, Emily thought morosely. “Oh, Lawrence, if you only knew what trouble you have caused—”

“I don’t care,” he said with all the selfishness of a man in love. “I love her. She loves me.”

Emily gave a shaky, nearly hysterical laugh. “Young love. A pity Lord Nesfield doesn’t understand the concept. He thinks a fortune hunter has put her under a spell.”

“That bastard!” Lawrence leapt to his feet. “I don’t care about his money. He has the sweetest daughter in Christendom, and he doesn’t even know it.”

“That’s the trouble—he does know it.” Emily sank into a chair, more weary than she could express.

Her masquerade had been for nothing. The lies and games and her shattering night with Jordan …

all of it, pointless. She was completely ruined, her reputation in a shambles and her life soon to be at risk, all because she’d been blind to her cousin’s change in affections. And her friend’s.

“When did this happen?” she whispered. “You seemed to dislike her so.”

Lawrence began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. “I thought she was beautiful, of course, from the first. Even then, I envied the man who would have her. But she seemed too haughty, too cold. Then at the ball, when you told me all those things about her shyness, I began to reconsider.”

Another mad laugh escaped her lips. Wonderful. She could thank herself for that.

“Then I lost sight of you for a while. I thought we were going to leave the ball, but I couldn’t find you.”

Emily sat up in the chair, casting her father a nervous glance. That had been when she was with Jordan in his carriage.

“Since the last person you’d talked to was Sophie,” Lawrence continued, “I went in search of her to ask her where you were. I found her alone and very distraught.” He stopped, anger marring his features.

“Some fool had joked within her hearing about the scene on the dance floor with her father, and she was mortified, nearly in tears. I … I did the only thing I could think of to cheer her up. I asked her to dance.”

Emily sighed. She could almost imagine it. Lawrence, struck by gallantry at the sight of Sophie’s distress, and Sophie, grateful to him for his kindness in the wake of other people’s cruelty.

Her cousin’s face softened into the dreamy countenance of a lover. “We danced two dances. They were utter bliss.”

Lawrence dancing twice? And calling it “utter bliss”? Her cousin truly had been shot by Cupid’s arrow to bring about this transformation.

“And on the basis of two ‘blissful’ dances, you eloped?” she said in astonishment.

“No, of course not.” Lawrence averted his gaze. “When I returned to London, I knew she was there for her coming out. So I … er … sort of tracked her down.”

“Tracked her down?” her father said, eyes narrowing.

“I hired a Bow Street Runner to find out where she was staying. Then one day when she went shopping with her maid, I followed her and—” He glanced guiltily at his uncle. “I pretended to … accidentally meet her on the street.”

“You mean, you lied to her.”

Lawrence squirmed under her father’s accusing look, and it was all she could do not to cry. Lawrence’s pretense paled compared to what she’d been doing for the past few weeks. When her father found out, it would probably send him to an early grave.

“It was a small lie, and the only one,” Lawrence said defensively. “She wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see her, so after that, we met regularly.”

“And when did you get it into your head to elope with a woman far above your station and out of the range of your purse, young man?” her father growled.

Lawrence straightened, towering over the older man. “I’ll have you know I make a very tidy living. And she doesn’t care about all that anyway. She loves me. That’s all that matters.”

“You think so?” Papa shook his head. “We’ll see if you’re so certain when she’s complaining about not having her own carriage and begging you to buy her some expensive bauble. Like is meant to stay with like, my son.”

Truer words were never spoken, Emily thought bleakly, reminded of her own thorny situation.

“I don’t care what you think, Uncle,” Lawrence said haughtily. “I shall marry Sophie. When I find her, that is.” He approached Emily, a determined expression on his face. “I’ve had the London house watched, and I’ve questioned the servants there and here, but I can discover nothing.”

Kneeling before her, he startled her by grabbing her hands, his face the very picture of a tormented man.

“Please tell me where she is, dear cousin! You’re her closest friend—you must know!

The servants said she was in the country, but she’s not here.

And I didn’t for a minute believe that tale of Lady Dundee’s about the house party you were both attending.

What have they done with her? Is she truly engaged to be married as Lady Dundee claimed? ”

Emily sighed. Curse the fool, he was so distraught, so deeply in love that it hurt to look at him. If only Jordan felt that for her … No, it was just as well he didn’t. By the time Lord Nesfield finished with her, there would be nothing left for him to love.

“Cousin?” he prodded.

“She’s not engaged.” She slumped against the chair.

Now she had a choice—she could tell Lawrence where Sophie was …

or give him over to Lord Nesfield. But after what Jordan had told her, she was sure the marquess would destroy Lawrence.

Sophie would be miserable, and Lawrence would most likely be ruined or dead, for he’d never take Lord Nesfield’s money. Not her moral, rigid-minded cousin.

What’s more, Lord Nesfield would probably still blame Emily for what had transpired, especially if Sophie persisted in her feelings for Lawrence. After all, Emily had introduced the two of them, and behind the marquess’s back, besides. That would give him reason enough to act on his threats.

She sighed. She might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. “She’s in Scotland. At Lady Dundee’s estate.”

Lawrence looked suspicious. “But Lady Dundee is in London for her daughter’s coming out.”

Her father interrupted. “Her daughter’s coming out? Lady Dundee’s eldest is scarcely fifteen. Or so the marquess told me a few months ago when I inquired after his family. Surely that’s too young.”

“The servants told me,” Lawrence replied with some irritation, “that Lady Dundee and Lady Emma, her daughter, were in residence.”

Her father frowned. “Her name’s not Emma, it’s—”

He broke off just as Lawrence’s gaze swung to her.

“It’s a long story,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you all about it, Papa, after Lawrence leaves.

” She turned to her cousin and quickly told him everything Lady Dundee had said about where her estate was situated.

“Now go on. Go fetch your Sophie, but be careful of Lord Dundee. I’m sure he’ll be watching out for his niece. ”

“Thank you, cousin,” he said, shocking her by seizing her about the waist and kissing her cheek. “I shall never forget this service.”

Nor shall I, she thought bitterly.

Now came the distasteful task of explaining everything to her father. He was watching her expectantly, giving her no choice but to plunge right in. She began with Lord Nesfield and Lady Dundee’s proposition, but got no further than that.

“You agreed to this?” he thundered. “You agreed to deceive hundreds of people?”

“Lord Nesfield left me no choice.” She swallowed. “Papa, there’s something you don’t know about how Mama died.”

When she finished telling him about the laudanum and finding her mother dead with Lord Nesfield as a witness, his face turned ghostly pale. He dropped into a chair, his eyes staring at nothing. Then to her alarm, he began to laugh, bitterly, angrily.

“Papa!” she said, hastening to his side. “Papa, you must take hold of yourself! I know it sounds dreadful, but—”

“I’m sorry, Emily.” His voice cracked with pain. “I’m merely angry at myself. I’ve kept myself aloof from you, and in the process allowed you to be left to that man’s mercy, when all this time I had it in my power to prevent it.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

He cast her an anguished look, then took her hand in his. “My dear girl, we’ve been silent on this subject too long. It’s time I told you what I know of your mother’s death … ”