Page 7 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)
Emily gave a deep curtsy, her curiosity thoroughly roused.
So this was the formidable Lady Dundee. According to gossip, the woman had turned down offers of marriage from an English duke and a marquess to marry her Scottish earl.
The gossips either said she’d married for love or to spite her parents.
Whatever the case, her wit, intelligence, and forthright speech had garnered her respect and power in Scottish society despite her English upbringing.
Emily straightened to find Lady Dundee examining her like a jeweler perusing uncut gems.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you here, Miss Fairchild,” Lord Nesfield continued. “As you know—”
“Randolph, must you be so rude?” Lady Dundee scowled at her brother. “Let the poor girl sit down first. And call for some refreshment, for heaven’s sake. We’ve been on the road for days, and I’m dry as a bone.”
With a regal nod cast loosely in Emily’s direction, she added, “You must forgive my brother’s poor manners, Miss Fairchild. He’s very tired. We traveled all last night to make up the time we lost to bad weather.”
Gesturing to the settee across from his sister, Lord Nesfield barked, “Sit down, Miss Fairchild,” then bellowed for a servant.
Emily did as he bade, not daring to do otherwise.
While they waited for the tea, Lady Dundee peppered Emily with questions—about her parents, her upbringing, the sort of books she read.
By the time the tea arrived, Emily was on the verge of rudely informing Lady Dundee that none of it was her concern.
Goodness gracious, was this some sort of test?
Or did all women of exalted society interrogate their guests?
“Now then, Miss Fairchild,” Lord Nesfield began, “as you may have guessed, I’ve brought you here because I need your help.”
Her help? How strange. “Your footman said this concerned Sophie.” Emily sipped her tea, all too aware of Lady Dundee’s intrusive gaze on her. “She’s not ill, is she? May I see her?”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Lady Dundee answered for her brother. “My niece is at my estate in Scotland with her uncle.”
“Scotland!” Emily set her cup down so abruptly that tea sloshed over onto the delicate china saucer. “But I thought she was in London having her coming out!”
“She was.” Lord Nesfield shoved his hands in his coat pockets, his expression grim. “Until she tried to run off with some bounder.”
Emily forgot her tea completely. “Timid Sophie? Off with some man?”
“Yes. Timid Sophie, off with some man,” he echoed sourly. “That’s why I whisked her away to Ophelia’s in Scotland. And that’s where she’ll remain until I find out who the scoundrel is.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you know?”
“Unfortunately, no. One night a few weeks ago, I heard a sound and went downstairs to find Sophie sneaking out of the London house. I ran through the open door after her. A carriage awaited her in the street, but when the driver saw me, he set off at a frantic pace.”
He scowled. “I called for my horse and gave chase, but it was too late. The man had disappeared. And I never got to see who he was. I still do not know.” A dangerous look entered his eyes. “But I will find out. You can be sure of that.”
Emily might have thought this some strange joke of Lord Nesfield’s if not for two things. One, Lord Nesfield never joked. Two, Lady Dundee was loudly seconding her brother’s vow to find the scoundrel.
But who would have believed that shy, skittish Sophie would ever attempt elopement? Then again, Sophie had made that odd comment about the footman.
Something in her face must have alerted Lord Nesfield and his sister to her thoughts, for they both burst out together, “You know who he is!”
“No! Truly, I don’t! It’s just that … well, she was so nervous about her coming out that she jested about … running off with a footman.”
Lord Nesfield’s face fell. “It was not a footman, I assure you. The scoundrel is of higher consequence than that, for I have had Bow-street-runners by the score trying to discover the driver of the hired hack to no success. It is as if the bloody carriage disappeared into thin air.” Lord Nesfield lifted his lorgnette to peer at her.
“Didn’t she tell you anything else? Write you about any man she had met? ”
“If you’ll recall, Lord Nesfield,” Emily said stiffly, “you forbade her to write to me. And Sophie is always careful to honor your wishes.”
Lady Dundee’s muffled laugh provoked Lord Nesfield’s anger. “Well, she wasn’t so bloody careful when she ran off with that bounder!”
Emily glared at him. This wasn’t her fault. “But surely she told you who it was once the elopement failed.”
“No, damn it all!” His grizzled cheeks puffed out in indignation as he punctuated each word with a tap of his cane. “She won’t say anything!”
“Calm down, Randolph. Your dramatics won’t help the situation.
” Lady Dundee smiled thinly at Emily. “It seems my niece has suddenly grown a spine. She refuses to reveal her true love’s name.
No one can break her silence, not even me.
All she’ll say is that they’re in love, and she’ll marry him no matter what we do or say. ”
“I would have brought the insolent girl here to see if you might get the truth out of her,” Lord Nesfield grumbled to Emily, “but I feared that the blackguard would come here as well. At least he will not think to look for her in Scotland.”
“Couldn’t Sophie’s maid tell you anything?”
“She too ran off on the night of the attempted elopement.” Lord Nesfield sat down on the other end of the settee. “If I find her, I will string her up by her sassy tongue, I will. Never did like that maid. She was a bad influence on my Sophie.”
Emily bit back a smile. She’d yet to see a single person whom Lord Nesfield regarded as a good influence. Sophie’d had six different maids in the last five years, and this one had stayed longer than most, given Lord Nesfield’s temper.
Lady Dundee poured herself more tea. “About all we can determine is that Sophie met the man in London. How else could she have been put in the company of such a blackguard?”
“And we know he is a fortune hunter,” Lord Nesfield growled. “If he were respectable, he would have asked me for her hand.”
Emily stifled a retort. Lord Nesfield’s reputation might have cowed even a respectable man. Then again, elopements seldom occurred between people of equal wealth and station. Perhaps Lord Nesfield’s concern was justified.
“He’s probably a titled man without fortune, or some second son eager to snatch an heiress,” Lady Dundee said. “Such men would have enough family influence to keep their attempt secret from Bow-street-runners.”
Clearly, neither thought it was simply a man in love, who knew he’d never have a chance with Sophie otherwise. Given Sophie’s lack of experience, they could be right.
Lady Dundee leaned back, settling her skirts about her like an unfurling sail.
“Now you see why we’re in a bind, Miss Fairchild.
My niece is eager to return to her secret suitor.
If we don’t discover him soon, I fear he’ll make a second attempt.
And he just might succeed. We can’t keep the girl hidden in Scotland forever.
People will talk. Her other suitors—and Randolph says there have been several—will want to know where she is.
We must tell them something. But first we must unmask the scoundrel who started this. ”
“Then I can deal with him—offer him money to be rid of him or threaten to discredit him,” Lord Nesfield put in. “But I cannot put an end to the scheme until I know who is behind it.”
Emily sighed. “I only wish I could help. But Sophie never spoke of being in love with any young man.”
“Ah, but you can help,” Lady Dundee said. “We’re relying entirely on you.” Two pairs of eyes suddenly fixed on her, and the weight of their combined power hit Emily with the same force as brilliant sunlight after the curtains are opened.
Oh, no. There was more to this than she’d realized.
Lady Dundee rose and moved to sit beside Emily. That in itself was alarming, but when the woman took her hand, Emily’s fears were confirmed. Something was afoot, something she wouldn’t like.
“You see, my dear, Randolph told me of your friendship with Sophie. When we set off for Willow Crossing, it was in hopes that you would know something. But in case you didn’t, we made a plan for discovering the identity of Sophie’s lover.”
“Involving me?”
“Yes. If you’re willing to help us. For the sake of your friend.”
Emily shifted uneasily on the settee and avoided looking at Lord Nesfield. Lady Dundee might at least pretend Emily had a choice. But Lord Nesfield wouldn’t give her one. He would command that she help them, knowing Emily daren’t refuse.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked warily.
Lady Dundee’s anxious expression softened. “We need a spy, dear, someone to circulate among Sophie’s friends and keep company with her suitors … someone whom this scoundrel of Sophie’s can approach to find out information about her.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Randolph has seen men watching the house in London, and Sophie seems convinced that her young man will pursue her until he succeeds. So we need a woman about Sophie’s age who can appear sympathetic to this man’s plight.
If he confides in her, begs her for help in reaching Sophie, we’ll have the bounder. ”
“That is why we need you,” Lord Nesfield said bluntly as he neared the settee. “We want you to be our spy.”
Emily looked wildly from Lady Dundee to Lord Nesfield, who was closing in on her. “Why, that’s absurd! Who of your set would confide in a rector’s daughter? Who could possibly believe that I could help him get to Sophie?”