Page 13 of The Forbidden Lord
And with such brilliant feathers! Emily couldn’t help but stare. The woman’s expensive-looking satin gown was so vividly purple it made her pink-cheeked face look like a peony floating in a sea of violets. Emily judged her to be about fifty, though it was hard to tell since she wore a turban of golden satin and the plumpness of her skin smoothed out any wrinkle that might dare crease its surface. Only a woman with utter confidence in herself could wear such an outrageous ensemble.
Lord Nesfield broke the silence. “Ophelia, I present to you Miss Fairchild, my rector’s daughter. Miss Fairchild, this is Ophelia Campbell, the Countess of Dundee. Lady Dundee is my sister.”
Emily gave a deep curtsy, her curiosity thoroughly roused. So this was the formidable Lady Dundee. According to gossip, the woman had turned down offers of marriage from an English duke and a marquess to marry her Scottish earl. The gossips either said she’d married for love or to spite her parents. Whatever the case, her wit, intelligence, and forthright speech had garnered her respect and power in Scottish society despite her English upbringing.
Emily straightened to find Lady Dundee examining her like a jeweler perusing uncut gems.
“You’re probably wondering why I’ve brought you here, Miss Fairchild,” Lord Nesfield continued. “As you know?—”
“Randolph, must you be so rude?” Lady Dundee scowled at her brother. “Let the poor girl sit down first. And call for some refreshment, for heaven’s sake. We’ve been on the road for days, and I’m dry as a bone.”
With a regal nod cast loosely in Emily’s direction, she added, “You must forgive my brother’s poor manners, Miss Fairchild. He’s very tired. We traveled all last night to make up the time we lost to bad weather.”
Gesturing to the settee across from his sister, Lord Nesfield barked, “Sit down, Miss Fairchild,” then bellowed for a servant.
Emily did as he bade, not daring to do otherwise. While they waited for the tea, Lady Dundee peppered Emily with questions—about her parents, her upbringing, the sort of books she read. By the time the tea arrived, Emily was on the verge of rudely informing Lady Dundee that none of it was her concern. Goodness gracious, was this some sort of test? Or did all women of exalted society interrogate their guests?
“Now then, Miss Fairchild,” Lord Nesfield began, “as you may have guessed, I’ve brought you here because I need your help.”
Herhelp? How strange. “Your footman said this concerned Sophie.” Emily sipped her tea, all too aware of Lady Dundee’s intrusive gaze on her. “She’s not ill, is she? May I see her?”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Lady Dundee answered for her brother. “My niece is at my estate in Scotland with her uncle.”
“Scotland!” Emily set her cup down so abruptly that tea sloshed over onto the delicate china saucer. “But I thought she was in London having her coming out!”
“She was.” Lord Nesfield shoved his hands in his coat pockets, his expression grim. “Until she tried to run off with some bounder.”
Emily forgot her tea completely. “Timid Sophie? Off with some man?”
“Yes. Timid Sophie, off with some man,” he echoed sourly. “That’s why I whisked her away to Ophelia’s in Scotland. And that’s where she’ll remain until I find out who the scoundrel is.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you know?”
“Unfortunately, no. One night a few weeks ago, I heard a sound and went downstairs to find Sophie sneaking out of the London house. I ran through the open door after her. A carriage awaited her in the street, but when the driver saw me, he set off at a frantic pace.”
He scowled. “I called for my horse and gave chase, but it was too late. The man had disappeared. And I never got to see who he was. I still do not know.” A dangerous look entered his eyes. “But I will find out. You can be sure of that.”
Emily might have thought this some strange joke of Lord Nesfield’s if not for two things. One, Lord Nesfield never joked. Two, Lady Dundee was loudly seconding her brother’s vow to find the scoundrel.
But who would have believed that shy, skittish Sophie would ever attempt elopement? Then again, Sophiehadmade that odd comment about the footman.
Something in her face must have alerted Lord Nesfield and his sister to her thoughts, for they both burst out together, “You know who he is!”
“No! Truly, I don’t! It’s just that … well, she was so nervous about her coming out that she jested about … running off with a footman.”
Lord Nesfield’s face fell. “It was not a footman, I assure you. The scoundrel is of higher consequence than that, for I have had Bow-street-runners by the score trying to discover the driver of the hired hack to no success. It is as if the bloody carriage disappeared into thin air.” Lord Nesfield lifted his lorgnette topeer at her. “Didn’t she tell you anything else? Write you about any man she had met?”
“If you’ll recall, Lord Nesfield,” Emily said stiffly, “you forbade her to write to me. And Sophie is always careful to honor your wishes.”
Lady Dundee’s muffled laugh provoked Lord Nesfield’s anger. “Well, she wasn’t so bloody careful when she ran off with that bounder!”
Emily glared at him. This wasn’t her fault. “But surely she told you who it was once the elopement failed.”
“No, damn it all!” His grizzled cheeks puffed out in indignation as he punctuated each word with a tap of his cane. “She won’t say anything!”
“Calm down, Randolph. Your dramatics won’t help the situation.” Lady Dundee smiled thinly at Emily. “It seems my niece has suddenly grown a spine. She refuses to reveal her true love’s name. No one can break her silence, not even me. All she’ll say is that they’re in love, and she’ll marry him no matter what we do or say.”
“I would have brought the insolent girl here to see if you might get the truth out of her,” Lord Nesfield grumbled to Emily, “but I feared that the blackguard would come here as well. At least he will not think to look for her in Scotland.”
