Page 54 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)
Chapter Twenty
Be plain in dress, and sober in your diet,
In short, my deary, kiss me, and be quiet.
— LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU, A SUMMARY OF LORD LYTTELTON’S ADVICE
Emily sat down near the fireplace in the Nesfield drawing room, then jumped up again and paced in front of it, twisting her shawl into a labyrinthine knot.
“Emily, dear, calm down,” her father said. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“I know.” And then what? Marriage to Jordan? When he didn’t love her? For goodness sake, she didn’t even know how he’d react to the news about her mother’s death. He might not even want to associate with her family after this.
Where was he, anyway? Had she and Papa actually reached London before him? She could hardly believe that. “Papa, I’m going to speak to Carter.”
“The butler? Why?”
“It’s nothing. I … I merely want to determine how long Lord Nesfield will be.”
She hurried from the room. She simply had to know if Nesfield was with Jordan. Or if Jordan had come earlier, and Nesfield had gone to begin the process of having her arrested. But she could hardly tell Papa that.
He didn’t even know about Jordan. She’d told him a friend had brought her to Willow Crossing. It was true, of course, but she hadn’t dared mention her possible future with Jordan when she was still so unsure of her own feelings and so much was unsettled.
It no longer ought to matter if Jordan had spoken to Nesfield. Even if Nesfield tried to make good on his threats, Papa had the means to prevent him.
Still, it mattered to her. If Jordan couldn’t trust her, what kind of marriage could they have? She could live without his love, perhaps. But without his trust? His consideration for her wishes? That would be the worst sort of alliance.
On the other hand, what she’d asked of him was almost too much for any man to do. Without knowing the circumstances, she was asking him not to interfere. Any man would find that difficult, but Jordan would find it next to impossible.
Worse yet, he might not even have reached London yet, and then she would never know for sure.
She found Carter in the dining room, overseeing preparations for the next meal as if things like this happened every day. “May I have a word with you?” She glanced at the other servants. “Alone?”
“Certainly, mil— Miss Fairchild.”
From the moment she and Papa had arrived, he’d insisted upon setting the servants straight about her identity. She would’ve preferred that he not, since it complicated everything and since Lady Dundee might have wished it done a different way. But Papa was too much a man of God to compound a lie.
She took Carter aside. “You said Lord Nesfield had gone to his club. Was he … alone? Or did he receive a summons to go there?”
Carter looked nonplused. “The only person receiving a ‘summons’ this morning was Lady Dundee. Lord Blackmore requested her presence at his town house. That’s where she is now.”
She stared at him with wide eyes. “Are you sure the request was meant only for her? It didn’t include Lord Nesfield?”
“I’m certain. Indeed, she told me not to tell her brother where she’d gone. She said that Lord Blackmore had requested it.”
The ramifications hit her with astonishing force.
He’d done as she’d asked! She couldn’t blame him for talking to Lady Dundee—that hadn’t been part of the agreement, and he would have wanted to gather as much information as possible.
But he hadn’t gone to Nesfield. That certainly said something about his feelings for her, didn’t it?
Despite reminding herself that it wasn’t all over yet, she couldn’t prevent the delirious happiness that lightened her heart.
Hastening back into the drawing room, she sat down beside Papa with a secretive smile.
Jordan had done as she’d asked. Her Jordan.
Yes, her Jordan. She could think that now.
Assuming he still wanted her after this was over.
She and her father heard the carriage thundering up the street at the same time. He took her hand and squeezed it as the carriage halted outside. Then they heard voices in the foyer, but when someone finally entered the room, it wasn’t Nesfield. It was Jordan.
She gazed at him in astonishment as he strode toward her, with Lady Dundee and Lord St. Clair following close behind. He didn’t even give her time to introduce her father.
“Emily, Nesfield’s carriage is right behind ours. We have only a moment. I know everything—about your mother and the laudanum and about Nesfield’s blackmailing you.” When she scowled, he added, “And I didn’t get it from Nesfield, if that’s what you’re thinking. I haven’t spoken to him. I swear it.”
“Then who told you?”
“There’s no time for explanations.” Bending on one knee, he took her hand and kissed it. “Now it’s your turn to trust me. I have a solution that’ll keep you safe without hurting anyone, but you must let me speak to Nesfield first.”
“Emily, who is this chap?” her father put in, his eyes fixing on their linked hands.
“He’s … a friend,” she said lamely. “Papa, meet the Earl of Blackmore. Lord Blackmore, this is my father, Edmund Fairchild.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir,” Jordan said quickly.
“We have much to discuss. But later, I’m afraid.
” Ignoring how her father gaped at him in ill-disguised awe, he returned his attention to Emily.
“I won’t speak to Nesfield without your permission.
Will you let me do this for you? I know what I’m doing, I promise. ”
“He does know what he’s doing,” Lady Dundee whispered, glancing over her shoulder as she heard Carter speak to her brother in the hall. “Let him talk first.”
“Now see here,” her father broke in. “We’ve got our own solution—”
“It’s all right, Papa.” Jordan had asked her permission? Mr. I-Must-Always-Be-in-Control Jordan? A smile lit her face. “I want to see what Lord Blackmore has come up with. It can’t hurt, can it?” She cast her father a meaningful glance. “Please? Do this for me?”
Her father barely had time to give his reluctant agreement before Lord Nesfield stormed into the room.
“All right, where is the damned chit?” he thundered, then drew up short when he saw his sister, his rector, the Earl of Blackmore, and the Viscount St. Clair all gathered about Emily like a phalanx of soldiers protecting their queen.
He recovered quickly, however. “Out, all of you! Except my niece. I wish to speak to her alone.”
Emily laughed aloud. He was still trying to maintain the masquerade? Now? Even with Papa here?
“Do not laugh at me, young lady,” Nesfield interjected. “You know what I will do to you.”
Her father stiffened and started to rise, but Emily caught his arm to stay him.
Jordan stepped forward. “Oh? What will you do to her?”
A pity that Nesfield wasn’t as familiar with Jordan’s moods as she was, or he would’ve realized he was treading dangerous ground.
“This is not your affair, Blackmore. Go away.”
“I can’t. I’ve come to speak to you about your ‘niece.’ I wish to marry her.”
Emily scowled. If that was Jordan’s idea of a solution, it wasn’t going to work. Her father was beginning to look apoplectic, but she tightened her grip on his arm, urging him to silence.
“Marry her?” Nesfield sputtered. “I will not allow it. Now leave. And take your friend with you.”
“Surely you’d prefer that I marry your niece rather than your daughter.”
That flat statement got everybody’s attention. Nesfield’s gaze grew positively furious. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m the one who tried to elope with your daughter Sophie.
I know you’ve been searching for me. I’ve heard about the men you hired.
Despite that, I had planned to try again, of course.
” He shifted his gaze to Emily. “But then I met your lovely niece, and I lost all interest in your daughter.”
Emily stared at him, astounded and delighted.
He had come up with the perfect solution!
First, claim to be the blackguard who Nesfield wanted to destroy, then eliminate Nesfield’s reason for doing so by offering to relinquish his interest in Sophie.
It was brilliant and perfect, and if they’d been alone, she would have kissed him for it.
“Lady Emma has completely stolen my heart,” he went on in a tone that sounded sincere. There was certainly no denying the heat in the glance he gave her. “So you see, you must consent to the marriage, since I know you have no desire to see me wed your daughter.”
Her father jumped up from his seat, unable to contain himself any longer. “Do not listen to this man, Lord Nesfield. He is not the one who ran off with your daughter, and I can prove it.”
Jordan whirled around, his face mottled with anger to have his plan so quickly scuttled. “Mr. Fairchild, you don’t understand the gravity of this situation!”
Emily decided she’d best step in. “It’s all right, Jordan.” She rose from her seat. “He does understand. Let him speak.”
Jordan stared at her, then nodded tersely. But for the first time, she saw fear in his face. Fear for her. It warmed her to the center of her heart.
“What do you know of all this, Fairchild?” Nesfield demanded.
“You may remember my nephew, Lawrence Phelps?” When Nesfield merely glowered at him, Papa went on.
“He’s the one who ran off with Sophie. And I say ‘ran off’ because he’s probably in Scotland with her by now.
I regret to tell you this, my lord, but I’m sure they’ll be married before you can reach them. ”
This new development stunned everyone. Nesfield was thunderous, Ian looked perplexed, since he’d obviously never heard of her cousin, and Jordan was scowling.
Only Lady Dundee seemed calm as she turned to Emily.
“Mr. Phelps? That barrister who came to the town house, supposedly looking for you?” When Emily nodded, she burst into laughter.
“Now that’s a match made in heaven. He was all sobriety and protective concern, exactly what Sophie has grown used to from her father. ”