Page 101 of The Forbidden Lord
“Withme?” he thundered. Rising abruptly from his seat, he leaned forward and planted his fists in the center of his neat desk. “I took her there after she came to me alone at night. That ‘poor girl’ offered me certain liberties in exchange for my silence about her scheme. Yes, I took her home. What else was I supposed to do? Leave her to be further corrupted by you and Nesfield? At least with her father, she’ll be safe.”
Ophelia felt the color rise in her face for the first time since her schoolgirl days. Emily had … had offered herself to Blackmore? For his silence? Good Lord in heaven!
She collapsed into the nearest chair, hardly able to comprehend it. The night Emily had spoken so earnestly to her, she’d never dreamed how desperate the girl really was.
“So don’t speak to me about chaperones,” he went on in a low, threatening voice. “For all I know, you or your pandering brother sent her to me in the first place.”
Her head shot up. “Why, you impudent dog! I had no idea she would attempt something so desperate.”
“Didn’t you?”
“No, indeed!” She turned her gaze to Lord St. Clair. “Tell him! You know I would never?—”
“Frankly, I don’t know what you might do, Lady Dundee. You told me you wanted her to marry Jordan. Perhaps you thought sending her to him might do it.”
It was Blackmore’s turn to look surprised. He faced his friend. “Lady Dundee said that to you?”
“Yes,” Ophelia answered quickly. “But I wouldn’t have tried to bring it about in such a shameless manner. And Emily knew nothing of my plans for her. Indeed, she was convinced you would never marry anyone.”
A troubled look passed over Blackmore’s face. “Yes, I know.”
Ophelia rose from the chair and hurried to the desk. “No matter what I’ve said or done, you mustn’t blame it on her. Yes, she participated in a masquerade at my request. I assume that you know why?” When Blackmore nodded, she went on. “But her intention was always to find the man who tried to elope with Sophie, nothing more.”
“It wasn’t me,” St. Clair put in. “Let’s be straight on that point.”
She gave him a dismissive glance. “Whatever you say. It hardly matters now. I’d already decided you were perfect for Sophie. If Blackmore hadn’t frightened Emily into taking desperate measures, I would have handed Sophie to you myself.”
St. Clair looked startled. “Truthfully?”
“Enough of that, both of you,” Blackmore interjected. “I don’t care about Sophie and her troubles. I care only about Emily. You make it sound as if she participated in this masquerade merely because you asked it of her. But there’s more to it than that. Thenight she came to me, she was frantic with fear. I want to know why.”
Ophelia sighed. “If I knew, I’d tell you. She insisted all along that she was merely concerned for Sophie, but I knew there was something more. When we first asked her to do it, she refused. Then my brother spoke with her privately, and she changed her mind.”
“And you didn’t question that? You thrust a country innocent into London society, into the company of unscrupulous men like Pollock, without a moment’s concern?”
“Now see here, Blackmore, I tried to protect her. The night Pollock assaulted her in Lady Astramont’s garden?—”
“Assaulted her! I’ll string him up by his ballocks!”
Oh, heavens. She’d made the mistake of assuming that Emily had told him about that little incident. “Don’t worry, he didn’t get beyond one kiss. When I came upon them, she was holding him off with the pointed edge of her fan and threatening to dismember him. Emily can take care of herself, whatever you may think. And when she couldn’t, I tried to watch out for her.”
“Did you really? Then how did I get her alone for so long at the museum? Tell me that!”
She fixed him with her haughtiest glance. “I made the mistake of assuming I was with gentlemen that day. How foolish of me.”
A muffled snort from Lord St. Clair drew her attention. For some reason, the wretch seemed to find this all very entertaining.
Blackmore didn’t share his amusement, however. “She shouldn’t have been thrown into the situation at all?—”
“I agree. Unfortunately, though I suggested ending the masquerade more than once, she refused. She was adamant about it. And since I had no idea why she wanted to continue, I had no choice but to go on.”
That seemed to bring Blackmore up short. He raked his fingers through his hair distractedly. “Your brother has something on her?—”
“I know. He won’t say what, and neither will she. I even offered to give her father a living if she wanted to end the masquerade, but she refused my help.”
“Mine, too,” Blackmore bit out. “Damn! I’d hoped you might give me some answers. All you’re giving me is more questions.”
“I’m afraid the only one who knows the truth besides Emily is Randolph. And I doubt he’d speak to you.”
