Page 54 of The Forbidden Lord
To act the part of a true friend requires more conscientious feeling than to fill with credit and complacency any other station or capacity in social life.
— SARAH ELLIS, ENGLISH MISSIONARY AND WRITER,PICTURES OF PRIVATE LIFE
Ophelia looked askance at St. Clair as she rose from the bench. “What do you mean, you can’t find them? They must be here somewhere.”
He seemed to share her concern. “I’ve searched every room, but they’re nowhere to be found.” He handed her a scrap of woven silk. “I did find your shawl, however. It was only a couple of rooms away.”
Of course it was. She’d purposely left it close by. So where on earth were they? A pox on Blackmore, that rascal. She should’ve known this would happen, especially after yesterday. And now it would be on her head, as well it should be. She was the one who’d let the girl in for this trouble.
“When I get my hands on that scoundrel …” she muttered as she hurried across the room.
St. Clair marched grimly beside her. “You can have him after I’m through. I swear, I had no idea he’d try something like this. Jordan isn’t generally irresponsible. Some might even say he’s too responsible sometimes. But he has this fool notion about your daughter that?—”
When St. Clair broke off, she stopped and grabbed his arm. “What fool notion?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Tell me what Blackmore is up to with my daughter!”
“It’s ridiculous. It’s just that?—”
“There you are, Mama,” came a cheery voice from behind her. “I’m afraid we didn’t find your shawl. We’ve been looking everywhere.”
Ophelia turned to find Emily and Lord Blackmore approaching, a few paces apart. Though the girl was smiling, the smile was patently false. Her bonnet was on crooked and her face was flushed. And Blackmore was looking as fierce as those carvings of the soldiers she’d just seen.
Something had happened, something monumental. Tension emanated from them, as taut as a well-strung bow.
“Where in God’s name have you two been?” Ophelia asked, her angry gaze fixing on Blackmore.
Blackmore met it with unrepentant insolence. She found it a tad unnerving.
It was Emily who answered, the words coming out in a rush. “I’m so sorry if we worried you. When we couldn’t find your shawl, we spoke to the guards, but they hadn’t seen it, so we went out to the carriage and looked there. Didn’t we, Lord Blackmore?”
He hesitated a moment, his scowl deepening, if that were possible. “Yes,” he finally clipped out. “Of course. We went out to the carriage.”
A blatant lie if she’d ever heard one. But if they hadn’t gone out to the carriage, where had they disappeared to?
Ophelia held up her shawl. “St. Clair found it for me. How odd that you missed it. It was only a couple of rooms away.”
Emily wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Yes, how odd.” She looked as if she were thinking, then added, “Oh, I know. That must have been the room we skipped because Lord Blackmore said you hadn’t gone in it.” She cast him a wan smile. “Itoldyou we should check all the rooms, you silly man. But you were so insistent?—”
He met her gaze, the muscles flexing in his jaw. “Yes, I’m nothing if not insistent. I eventually always get my way, you know.”
A fresh blush stained the girl’s cheeks as she returned her attention to St. Clair. “Well, in any case, I’m … I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our outing short, Lord St. Clair. That headache of mine?—”
“Of course. I should have insisted that we change it to another day the moment you said something.” St. Clair shot Blackmore a stern glance. “I can be insistent myself, can’t I, Jordan?”
The two men stood glaring at each other until Ophelia cleared her throat. Since no one was going to tell the truth, and since they were all obviously ready to throttle each other for things they wouldn’t discuss aloud, they might as well go home. “Well, then, I suppose one of you gentlemen should call for the carriage.”
“I will,” Blackmore growled, then stalked off toward the entrance like some prowling beast.
As soon as he was gone, Emily visibly relaxed. St. Clair took her arm and led her in the same direction Blackmore had gone, with Lady Dundee following behind.
He gazed down at Emily with concern. “Are you all right? You look a little peaked.”
The smile she flashed at him was brittle and far too bright. “I’ll be fine as soon as I can lie down in a quiet room with a cold cloth on my head. You mustn’t worry.”
“With your cousin sick, I can’t help but worry,” he answered smoothly. “You might be suffering from the same ailment.”
