Page 58 of The Forbidden Lord
What to do about Emily? He couldn’t expose her, not after how she’d begged him not to. Good God, she’d looked so desperate, so terrified. He’d bet a fortune she’d been trapped into this masquerade against her will.
And for what? What could Nesfield and Lady Dundee possibly gain by it? How had they even convinced her to cooperate? The Emily Fairchild he’d met in Derbyshire had been honest to a fault. She’d been the most open, artless … genuine woman he’d ever met. This masquerade wasn’t in her character. Her reason for doing it must be compelling—she wouldn’t relinquish her will easily.
Except when it came to lovemaking. Good God. Guilt lashed at him, making him feel like the lowest cur. The look on her face when he’d made that comment about her virtue … it had driven a knife in his gut. She’d been so deuced innocent that she hadn’t even known whether she’d lost her virginity!
In that respect, he’d been a blind idiot about her. Any fool could have seen that Lady Emma’s flirtations were desperate attempts to hide her identity. The truth of who she was had been obvious—her looks, her evasion of him from the beginning.
She’d even called him Jordan in that damned room at the museum. He’d never given Lady Emma leave to call him by his Christian name, but he’d urged Emily to do so. Yet even though her use of it had registered somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d ignored it.
Why? Because he’d wanted to believe she was Lady Emma. Emily Fairchild was inaccessible, but Lady Emma was fair game.He’d desired Emily so badly that he’d been willing to believe she was somebody else so he could have her.
And he’d almost taken her virginity! He’d almost ruined her, because he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge the truth.
A carriage rumbled up beside him, but he ignored it until it halted and a voice said, “I thought I might find you on the street. Get in, Jordan.”
He glanced over to see Ian holding the door to the Blackmore carriage open. “Go away. I’m not in the mood for lectures right now.”
When he walked off, Ian stepped out of the carriage and caught him by the arm. “I don’t care what you’re in the mood for. Get in the carriage, or I’ll throw you in.”
“How dare you!” Jordan whirled on him, his hands clenching into fists. He was spoiling for a fight, and at the moment didn’t much care whom he fought.
Ian’s determined expression altered at the sight of Jordan’s fighting stance. “Don’t be a fool. This should be settled in private, not in a public brawl.”
The itch to hit something, anything, seized Jordan with almost overwhelming power. But Ian was right. A public brawl would make the papers and provoke unwanted speculation about why they were fighting so soon after being seen with Emily and Lady Dundee. He dared not draw undue attention to Emily.
Without a word, he lowered his fists, then climbed into the carriage, throwing himself into the seat.
Ian got in and told Watkins to drive to his town house, then turned to Jordan. “What happened between you and Lady Emma?”
“It’s none of your concern,” Jordan ground out.
“I’m the one who invited her. I’m responsible if something happened?—”
“Nothing happened.”
“Are you saying she dislodged her bonnet and got marble dust on the back of her skirts purely by accident?” When Jordan’s gaze shot to his, he added, “Oh, yes, I noticed. That and other things. Like her missing scarf. It’s a wonder Lady Dundee didn’t notice it herself. I swear, if you compromised that young woman?—”
“I didn’t compromise her!” But he nearly had. And he’d wanted to. Jordan’s gut twisted into an even tighter knot. Had it been so obvious as all that? “Why are you so concerned about the good Lady Emma anyway?” he retorted. “I thought it was Lady Sophie you wanted.”
“It is. But I like Lady Emma, and don’t want to see her harmed.”
“Neither do I, believe me.”
Ian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I see. Do you still think she’s a rector’s daughter masquerading as a lady?”
The impulse to tell his friend the truth was almost more than he could bear. But Emily had begged him not to, tears filling her eyes. Good God, he couldn’t make her cry again. “Of course not. It was a stupid notion, nothing more.”
“So, you’re no longer interested in her.”
“I didn’t say that,” he retorted.
Of course he was still interested in her. He wouldn’t expose her, but nothing prevented him from trying to find out what hold Nesfield had over her. He’d be discreet and careful, but hewouldlearn the truth. Someone must rescue her from this madness, for God’s sake, before she was found out. Obviously her father wasn’t trying to do so.
“Let me see if I have this right,” Ian said dryly. “You’re interested in a woman of marriageable age and station.”
The word “marriageable” caught his attention. He scowled at Ian. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I enjoy her company. She’s an intriguing acquaintance, that’s all.”
“Liar. Thanks to this mere acquaintance, you’ve—” Lifting his hand, he ticked them off one by one. “Arrived late for an appointment. Attended the breakfast of a woman you despise. Tried to seduce said acquaintance in the midst of a crowded museum where being caught would mean public censure for you and humiliation for her. Threatened to trounce your closest friend.” He paused. “Am I missing anything?”
