Page 53 of The Forbidden Lord
She paused, all too aware of the guard’s gaze on her. “Yes?”
“You’ve left your bonnet and glove behind, Miss Fairchild,” Jordan said acidly.
She faced him slowly, hardly able to meet his implacable gaze. He held the items out, and she took them, not even bothering to correct him. It was silly to go on pretending with him. He knew who she was now.
The enormity of that fact suddenly struck her. She couldn’t just walk away, not without making some attempt to salvage the situation. She cast the guard a pointed look. “Excuse me, sir, would you give us another moment alone?”
The guard scowled at Jordan, whose missing coat and waistcoat surely demonstrated that something had been going on in the room besides simple admiration of the arts. But if he noticed, he didn’t say anything. With a curt nod in her direction, he turned away. “All right. But I’ll be over here, miss, if you need me.”
As he moved off a few paces, she forced herself to meet Jordan’s livid gaze. “I have a favor to ask of you. I have no right to it, I know, but I’m asking you …” She swallowed, staring down at her hands. “I’m entreating you not to tell anyone your … suspicions about me.”
“They’re not suspicions anymore, Emily.”
“I realize that. But only you know the truth, and I?—”
“The truth?” Stepping toward her, he lowered his voice to a hiss. “I don’t know the goddamned truth. All I know is you’remasquerading as Lady Dundee’s daughter. I don’t know why or how or?—”
“And I can’t tell you.”
He glowered at her. “Why the devil not?”
She drew on her glove, then forced herself to meet his gaze. “It’s … complicated. But please believe me, I have good reason for this pretense. If you reveal the truth to anyone—your friends, your servants, anyone at all—it could ruin not only my life, but the lives of several other people.” She swallowed her pride. “I’m begging you. If you care even a little for me, you’ll keep silent.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “You want me to keep silent, but you’ll give me no answers. Why are you doing this? Why be guided by Nesfield and his sister? What purpose does it serve? If you’d just tell me, I’d keep your secret!”
Yes, of course he would—except for where it concerned his good friend, Lord St. Clair. She and Lady Dundee were so close to finding out who Sophie’s lover was, that Emily couldn’t risk frightening off their most likely suspect now. Or suffering Lord Nesfield’s wrath. “I’m sorry, Jordan, I can’t tell you. It’s not my secret alone.”
“And if I refuse to keep quiet unless you tell me everything?”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back. She would not let him see her cry. She wouldn’t! “Then the first person you’ll destroy is me. Isn’t it enough that you’ve taken my … virginity? Must you take everything else?”
Remorse filled his features, and his voice gentled. “I didn’t take your virginity. Your virtue is intact.”
“Well, at least there’s that,” she said in a whisper. “But it doesn’t change anything. I still can’t tell you.”
“Devil take it, Emily! Tell me, damn you!”
She cast him a pleading glance. “Why do you care so much about this? It has nothing to do with you.” He’d given her no indication that he’d ever been interested in Sophie, so there wasno point in continuing to suspect him, no matter what Lord Nesfield thought. “Keeping my secret won’t hurt you. Do you despise me so much for trying to fool you that you won’t rest until you destroy me?”
His expression was stark, drawn. “I don’t despise you, for God’s sake. I could never despise you, and I certainly don’t wish to destroy you.”
“Then keep my secret.”
“Why can’t you trust me with the truth? Haven’t I proved I care about you?”
He could say that now? After what had just happened? “Oh, yes, I heard how much you cared! ‘This isn’t romantic feeling, my dear,’” she quoted bitterly. “‘It’s desire, pure and simple.’ You desire me, that’s all.” She hugged herself, feeling the hurt slice through her again. “No, you don’t even desire me! You desire that wanton Lady Emma! Yet you want me to trust you with my entire future! How dare you?” Tears began to stream down her face, and she wiped them away furiously. “You have no right to ask that of me, you … you bastard!”
He groaned, his expression shifting from anger to guilt as he stepped forward, reaching for her.
Quickly, she backed away, stammering, “I … I have to go now. I d-dare not stay here any longer.” Turning on her heels, she hurried off.
“Please, Emily,” he bit out behind her. “Can’t we talk about this?”
She didn’t answer but kept on going, a fervent prayer tumbling from her lips as she hurried through the rooms.Dear God, don’t let him tell. If you’ll keep him from exposing me, I’ll never do anything like this again, I swear.
She only hoped God heeded the prayers of wantons.
Chapter Eleven
