Page 38 of The Forbidden Lord
When he entered the Subscription Room it took a few moments to find the viscount through the haze of tobacco smoke, but at last he spotted him in a corner. Ian lounged in a chair beneath a sconce, with a pipe in one hand and his pocket watch in the other. He glanced up and saw Jordan, then tapped the face of his watch as Jordan approached.
Jordan settled into the armchair opposite him and grumbled, “I’m here, Ian. You can put away the watch and the incredulous look.”
With a grin, Ian snapped the watch cover crisply shut, then restored it to his waistcoat. “That’s twice now, Jordan. Since you’re never late, I can only assume this is the early onset of senility. If you’re not careful, you’ll soon be talking to yourself as you dodder about in unlaced boots.”
“Very amusing, I’m sure. Last night was Pollock’s fault. Tonight, I simply forgot. It happens, you know, even to me. I’ve a great deal on my mind these days.”
“Lady Emma perhaps?” When Jordan scowled at him, he added, “You said you were planning to attend Lady Astramont’s breakfast, but I really didn’t think you would. You find her as annoying as the rest of us.”
Jordan took a cheroot from the gold case sitting on the table between them with its array ofThe Timesand other papers. He lit it, then drew the soothing smoke into his lungs. “Yes, but Emily Fairchild was there. And I told you, I’ll do what I must to prove she’s an impostor.”
Drawing deep on his pipe, Ian shrugged. “Why not just write to Miss Fairchild’s father and ask where she’s staying in London? If he gives you Nesfield’s townhouse address, then you know Lady Emma and Miss Fairchild are one and the same.”
“I already thought of that, but I doubt it would do any good. Her father would have to be part of the scheme, or else why would he have let her come? Besides, the minute a letter arrives from me, questions will be raised about how Emily knows the Earl of Blackmore. You know how those country towns are: nothing but gossip.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because I was almost caught having a tête-à-tête with her in a carriage a couple of months ago.”
“You in a carriage with a complete innocent?” Ian tapped his pipe on the arm of his chair. “You really are entering senility. How the bloody hell didthathappen?”
A business acquaintance approached from behind Ian, looking as if he might speak to them, but Jordan’s patented scowl made the man redirect his steps in a hurry. Then Jordan told Ian what had happened that night, leaving out the kisses, of course. “So you see, it wasn’t either of our faults, and we got out of it fairly well. But a letter from me would make people wonder about the night we were thought to be together. And if by some chance I’m wrong about Emily?—”
“Ah, so you admit you could be wrong. You saw her by moonlight, for God’s sake.”
“I know.” Jordan puffed hard on the cheroot. And Lady Emma had described Castle Dundee in such loving detail. Yet there was something about her … “I don’t think I am. But I can’t take any chances. If Lady Emma isn’t Miss Fairchild, I wouldn’t want to ruin the latter woman’s reputation. The Miss Fairchild I met didn’t deserve to be gossiped about.”
“There may be another, perfectly logical reason for Lady Emma’s resemblance to your friend Miss Fairchild.”
“Oh?”
“Lady Dundee is originally from the same area, is she not?”
“Yes. The Nesfield seat is in Derbyshire. I imagine the countess spent her childhood there before she married.”
“Then she and the Fairchilds may be distant relations. Plenty of second sons go into the clergy. Perhaps Mr. Fairchild is Nesfield’s cousin or something. That may even be why he was given the living.”
Jordan drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He hadn’t considered that. An uneasy knot formed in his belly. What if all this time he’d been tormenting the woman for no good reason? Though both women shared similar features and spoke their minds, Lady Emma did differ markedly from Emily. Her coy flirtations bore no resemblance to Emily’s moralizing. And the way she kissed …
Good God. He could be completely wrong. And that changed everything.
“If you want to know for certain,” Ian continued, “why not go to Derbyshire?”
“I fear that wouldn’t be any less discreet. But I could send Hargraves, if he can’t find anything out from Nesfield’s servants.”
A dark look passed over Ian’s face. “I don’t know how much luck you’ll have there, even with Hargraves tackling the task.”
“Why not?”
“While you were at the breakfast, I went to Nesfield’s town house, hoping to speak to Lady Sophie. But the servants very politely rebuffed me, saying she was too sick for visitors. Don’t you find it odd that she should be ill so long?”
Jordan blew out a puff of smoke. “Not necessarily. If ever a young woman was prone to illness, it’s Lady Sophie.”
“True, but I think it’s her bloody father’s fault. I suspect that if she escaped his iron thumb, she’d be fine. Unfortunately, I have to go through Nesfield to get to her.”
Jordan cast his friend a covert glance. This new preoccupation of Ian’s with marrying was beginning to disturb him. “I’m sure she’ll be well in a few days, and you’ll find a way around her father’s objections.”
“I’m counting on Lady Emma to aid me with that. If I can speak to her alone. But for that I need your help.”
