Page 56 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)
His tone grew sarcastic. “And since everyone behaved well, a few minor deceits can be overlooked. My wife and Lady Dundee will be seen as noble defenders of young lovers, and your daughter will be lauded for her dedication to love. We shall neglect to mention, of course, that her new husband is a barrister. I only regret that you will come off looking like a saint.”
Lord Nesfield summoned up a bit of his old fire. “If you think I shall support this tale of yours merely so Miss Fairchild can keep her reputation intact—”
“Be careful, Randolph,” Lady Dundee warned. “If your name is dragged through the mud, then mine will be as well, and I refuse to be a joke at dinner parties.”
Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Well, Nesfield? Shall we all walk away from this relatively unscathed, with only an amusing tale to note its passing? That’s better than you deserve.
But since anything else will result in harm to Emily—and I will not have her harmed any further by you—it seems the only choice. ”
Lord Nesfield visibly recoiled from Jordan’s veiled threat. He glanced at the people arrayed against him, one his own sister and two with respectable titles and fortunes. It suddenly seemed to dawn on him that bucking such an alliance would lead to disaster only for him.
“All right,” he growled. “But the five of you can continue the farce without me. I am going to Scotland. There is still a chance I can stop my daughter from ruining her life.” With that, the marquess stamped out of the room, calling for his carriage.
“Enjoy your trip,” Jordan said in a menacing undertone.
Emily shivered. She had the distinct impression that Jordan would find some way to make Nesfield pay for what he’d done. She wouldn’t want to be in the marquess’s shoes just now.
Jordan surprised her by then turning to her father. “Can you support my tale, Mr. Fairchild? I know how much you disapprove of lying.”
“I fully intend to tell the truth,” Papa answered. When Jordan looked alarmed, he added, “But that’s easily enough done. I know nothing of all this but a lot of hearsay. Who am I to say what did or didn’t happen while my daughter was in London?”
Her father cast Jordan a speculative glance. “First, however, I’d like to hear more about it from you and my daughter. You have now mentioned marriage to her several times, yet until a few minutes ago, I didn’t even know you knew her.”
At Jordan’s frown, her father said quickly, “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m most grateful for your interference today. I couldn’t have handled Lord Nesfield nearly so well alone.” He clasped Emily close. “Nonetheless, I find myself bewildered—and a bit disturbed—by your interest in my daughter.”
“It’s not such a strange thing,” Jordan stated. “I first met her at the Drydens’ ball in Derbyshire. Then, while she was here in London, we were much thrown into each other’s company.” His voice softened. “And I fell in love with her.”
There was that word again. Love. It was one thing to pretend in front of Lord Nesfield, but he didn’t have to keep it up with Papa. “Jordan, there’s no need to—”
He cut her off before she could say “lie.” “The only trouble is, I’ve proposed to her, and she hasn’t yet accepted me.”
She couldn’t believe it. The Earl of Blackmore looked as awkward and uncertain as any man who’d come to propose marriage a second time and wasn’t quite sure of his reception.
He glanced at Lady Dundee and Ian, who were beaming their encouragement. Then he eyed her father nervously. “I know this is asking a great deal, sir, but might you give your daughter and me a few minutes alone? Afterward, I will be much better able to answer your questions.”
When her father hesitated, she squeezed his waist. “Please, Papa?”
“As you wish,” he grumbled, “but only a very few minutes.” He released her and started to walk off, then paused to fix Jordan with a concerned look.
“I think you should know, however, that while my daughter was packing to come here yesterday, a neighbor in Willow Crossing came to tell me of seeing a very important-looking carriage drive away from my house. Emily told me that a friend had brought her home, but now I wonder—”
“As I said,” Jordan remarked with a touch of his old arrogance, “I will be happy to answer all your questions later.”
Her father nodded, clearly reminded of the vast difference in their stations. Jordan might be a young man desirous of his daughter’s hand in marriage, but he was also the famous Earl of Blackmore, and years of ingrained behavior would make it difficult to alter her father’s awareness of that.
Lady Dundee and Ian thankfully took her father’s exit as their cue to withdraw as well. When she and Jordan were completely alone, he approached her with uncertain steps.
“Emily, I meant every word I said to your father. I’ve been in a state of absolute terror the past two days, thinking you might not marry me.
The thought of losing you makes my stomach churn and my blood falter.
I love you. There, I’ve said it. And I mean it, too.
Now please, put me out of my misery and agree to marry me. ”
Her first impulse was absolute joy. He loved her! Jordan loved her! He’d actually spoken the words!
Then a second mischievous impulse possessed her.
After all his claims he was impervious to love and the terrible pain he’d put her through, she couldn’t resist tormenting him, if only a little.
“Are you sure it’s love, Jordan? What you’re describing sounds more like an ague.
” She laid the back of her hand against his forehead.
“Perhaps you’re ill. After all, the Earl of Blackmore falling in love—”
“Enough, you teasing wench,” he said in a warning tone, then caught her hand.
“All right then. You want me to behave like a sentimental idiot, do you?” His voice actually shook when he continued.
“I need you to make me whole, Emily Fairchild. I want you. And yes, I love you. I will always love you.”
He pressed her hand against his heart. “The first time you quoted scripture at me, you chipped away a piece of my granite heart, and you kept chipping away until nothing was left but dust. Thanks to you, there’s a real heart in its place. And it will always belong to you.”
He kissed her hand, then flashed her a wry smile. “Now then, my darling, is that enough emotional excess for you? Will you please agree to marry me?”
She kissed him then, with as much joy and love as she could manage.
When she drew back, he looked dazed. “I hope that’s a ‘yes.’”
She smiled broadly, her heart so full she thought it might burst. At last her forbidden lord was no longer forbidden. “It is indeed, my love. A very emotional and very sentimental ‘yes.’ ”