Page 68 of The Forbidden Lord
“I’m talking about what happened between you and Pollock at Lady Astramont’s, deuce take it.”
The blood drained from her face. “He … he told you about that?”
No denials. No protests. Just guilt. He felt as if his guts were being wrenched out with a pitchfork. “Oh, yes, he was quite happy to boast of how he kissed and fondled you.”
“He didn’t!” She paused, confusion in her face. “I … I mean … well … it wasn’t like that?—”
“So he told the truth.” The words tasted like ashes in his mouth. “And how many other men have put their hands on you?”
Her confusion faded, replaced by fury. “How dare you! It’s acceptable foryouto put your hands all over me, even though you freely admit you never intend to marry. But no one else must touch me, is that it? Only you can ‘make free with my body’?”
“If you’re nurturing some foolish notion that Pollock will marry you, you’d best forget it. Once you tell him who you really are, he won’t come near you. You can lay money on that.”
“Thank you for reminding me yet again of my inferior class,” she said bitterly. “I’m good enough for you to maul, but not good enough for either of you to marry, is that it? Don’t worry, Jordan. I’ve no intention of forgetting my place—with youorMr. Pollock.”
It dawned on him how his words must have sounded just as she whirled on her heel and opened the door. “Now, Emily, I didn’t mean?—”
But she was already walking out the door, her head held so high it was a miracle it didn’t fall off her elegant little neck. Cursing himself for being so blunt, he started after her, then spotted Ian and the others coming down the stairs from the second floor. Quickly, he ducked back into the drawing room. The last thing he wanted was to make polite conversation with them when jealousy raged through him like a wild bull.
He heard a servant in the hall announce that dinner was served. Then Ian said, “Why don’t all of you go down to dinner? I’ll just fetch the others.”
Jordan glanced about the room, looking for an escape. But there was none. Next thing he knew, Ian was sauntering into the room.
The viscount looked around, bewildered. “Where’s Pollock? And Lady Emma?”
“Who knows?” He couldn’t prevent the acid edge to his voice. “She’s probably off ‘comforting’ him the way only a woman can. You might try one of the bedrooms.”
Ian arched one eyebrow. “Your jealousy is showing, Jordan. You know quite well Lady Emma would never go off into a bedroom with Pollock.”
“Wouldn’t she?” He stared unseeing into the fireplace, feeling a sudden childish urge to kick at the embers. “Pollock seems to think otherwise. He implied he’d come close to having her.”
“Pollock will say whatever he can to provoke you. You know that. It’s just lies.”
“Then why didn’t she deny it?”
“You actually repeated Pollock’s words to her?”
At Ian’s incredulous tone, Jordan faced his friend. “Yes. Why not?”
“Bloody hell, have you no sense at all when it comes to respectable women?”
“No,” he growled. “If you’ll recall, I don’t usually deal with them.”
“Well, you don’t accuse a well-bred woman of being free with her affections, unless you deliberately want to insult her. And you especially don’t tell her you heard it from some idiot, then actually believed it.”
Jordan strained to remember the entirety of their conversation. “She admitted she’d been alone with him.”
“And she admitted that he’d touched her?”
“Not exactly. But she blushes every time his name is mentioned.”
“I see. And this is your evidence. I wish you could hear yourself. If any other man had told you such a tale, you would have laughed him out of countenance.” He shook his head. “Why do you care, anyway? If you’ve no interest in marrying the girl, what does it matter if Pollock courts her?”
Jordan shoved his hands in his pockets. Emily had said much the same thing. “He’s no good for her. He’ll take advantage of her, then refuse to marry her.”When he finds out who she really is.“Why did you invite the bastard anyway?”
Ian hesitated before answering. “Actually, inviting Pollock was Lady Dundee’s idea. I wouldn’t have, but she insisted upon it.”
Good God. What if Lady Dundee and Lord Nesfield had some strange idea of marrying Emily off to Pollock? “What does Lady Dundee have to do with this?”
