Page 24 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“Come, Emma,” Lord Ragsdale said. He stood next to her, and she jumped at the sudden intrusion on her rapid scramble through the ledger. “We have come to the end of this day’s philanthropy, I trust.”
She closed the book reluctantly.
“Looking up relatives?” the marquess asked. “Close relatives, I would imagine.”
He was teasing her, she could tell. “Of course, my lord,” she responded promptly. He could think what he chose.
Blessedly outside the prison, Lord Ragsdale nodded to his tiger, who unblanketed his horse.
They started out in silence. It was almost dark now, and Newgate was only a hulking shadow. She shivered, hoping that she would not dream tonight.
“I trust we needn’t repeat a visit to my late secretary.”
“No, my lord,” she said. “Tomorrow, though, we need to visit your banker and find out what bills remain to be paid. Breedlow tells me that your banker has his ledgers.”
“It can wait, Emma,” he grumbled.
“It cannot, my lord. The sooner your finances are organized, the less I will bother you.”
“Thank heavens,” he replied fervently. “In that case, I am yours this evening too.”
Silence filled the space between them. They might have been miles from each other instead of touching shoulders. She knew she should be silent, but Breedlow’s face was still so vivid in her mind.
“My lord, did you ever ask Mr. Breedlow why he stole the money?”
“No. I don’t care why.”
The marquess spoke with such finality that Emma knew she did not dare to continue. But she did, as though some demon pushed her onto an empty stage, daring her to perform for a hostile audience.
“His sister’s husband died, and that twenty pounds was to cover funeral expenses and a year’s rent for her.”
She could tell he had turned to look at her, but it was dark and she could not see his face. “I told you I did not care. Thievery is thievery, Emma.”
She looked straight ahead and plunged on, driven by some imp that she did not recognize. “When I straightened out your desk this morning, I noticed that you wagered seventy-five pounds that Lord Lander could not push a peanut with his nose down St. James Street during the evening rush of traffic.”
His reply was quiet, and she knew she should not prod him any farther. “It’s my money, Emma,” he said.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“Emma, you are aggravating!” he said, his voice low but intense. “When we get home, I am going to find that stupid paper I signed and tear it up, and you can spend the next five years cleaning out my kitchen! To perdition with my reformation.”
Well, that is that, she thought to herself as she pulled as far away from him as she could and stared into the gathering dusk.Oh, why can I not learn patience? I have ruined everything.
When they arrived at the house, Lord Ragsdale flung himself out of the curricle, snapped his orders at the tiger, and took the front steps in two bounds. Emma followed more slowly, drawing her cloak about her again. She sniffed at the fabric. Lord Ragsdale was right; the odor of Newgate had permeated the material.
He slammed the door behind him, not quite in her face, but almost. She opened it and forced herself to go inside.I wonder if Lady Ragsdale found me a place to sleep, she thought.I cannot bear another night on the stairs.
Lady Ragsdale and Sally Claridge, dressed in evening wear, stood in the front hallway conversing with Lord Ragsdale. The older woman nodded to Emma and then made a face as Emma slowly removed her cloak.
“I was telling my son how much Sally and I were looking forward to his escort tonight and during this Season, and what does he tell me but you have commanded his appearance in the book room this evening?”
Surprised, Emma glanced at Lord Ragsdale, who stood slightly behind his mother. He stared at her and gave her a slow wink. She understood perfectly and resisted the urge to cheer as she sighed and then shook her head at Lady Ragsdale.
“That is how we must get on, my lady,” she said, striving for that perfect blend of regret and determination. “Until your son’s business affairs are regulated, I must claim his attention. I am sure that later in the Season he will be delighted to accompany the two of you.”
To her relief, Lady Ragsdale nodded. “I am sure we understand, Emma. Come, Sally. I don’t believe Lord and Lady Tennant were expecting my son anyway.”
Lord Ragsdale kissed his mother’s cheek and managed a look of rue so counterfeit to Emma that she had to turn away to maintain her countenance.I never met a more complicated man, she thought as Lord Ragsdale expressed his profound sorrow at missing an evening with London’s finest and closed the door behind his mother and cousin. He turned back to her, and she held her breath.
