Page 15 of The Forbidden Lord
“If by some chance your supposed position as an heiress would attract the fortune hunter to yourself instead,” Lord Nesfield added, “that would work very well, too. That would demonstrate his fickle nature to my daughter and make her abandon her hopes.”
Goodness gracious, they’d thought this out carefully, hadn’t they? They’d planned an entire deception around her before even asking her to help them. And now they thought she would go along with it!
“I can’t participate in such a deceit,” she protested. “It’s not right!”
Lady Dundee patted her hand kindly. “Don’t think of it as a deceit, my dear. It’s an adventure, one that will help your friend. You do want to help keep Sophie out of the hands of this fortune hunter, don’t you?”
“Of course, but?—”
“It’ll be fun,” Lady Dundee went on as she tightened her grip on Emily’s hands. “You’ll see. Think of all you can experience. A girl like you would never get the chance for a London coming out. This will allow you to enjoy the town, to wear expensive gowns and go to the most prestigious balls.” Leaning closer, she winked at Emily. “Who knows? You might even catch a wealthy husband of your own. Isn’t that a temptation?”
Jerking her hands free, Emily leapt to her feet, every inch of her body bristling. “No, Lady Dundee, it is not! I don’t know what sort of frivolous girl you think I am, but I don’t desire expensive gowns and a wealthy husband gained through deceit and trickery!” At Lady Dundee’s surprised expression, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. “I’m sorry about Sophie’s predicament, but I don’t think she’d wish me to dosomething as abominable as this to help her. I cannot do it. I will not!”
Lady Dundee cocked her head and ran her gaze over Emily, as if seeing her for the first time. “How very interesting. A young woman with principles. It’s so rare these days, I hardly recognized it.” She folded her hands in her lap with a shrug. “Very well, then. I see you won’t serve our purpose.”
“Nonsense!” Lord Nesfield had been silent throughout Emily’s emotional outburst, but now he spoke out loudly. “Leave us, Ophelia. I must speak to Miss Fairchild alone.”
“If she doesn’t want to help—” Lady Dundee began.
“Leave us, Ophelia!” he bellowed, making even his formidable sister jump.
With a swish of ample skirts, Lady Dundee stood. “Very well. But don’t browbeat the girl, Randolph, or I shall hear of it.” She cast Emily a penetrating glance. “I may not agree with her motives, but I respect them. Besides, it does us no good if she gives her help unwillingly.”
“She will not give it unwillingly, I assure you,” Lord Nesfield said in a low voice as his sister swept from the room. “Will you, Miss Fairchild?”
Emily’s heart sank as the drawing room door shut behind the countess. She knew what was coming. “Please, my lord, you must understand my position?—”
“Silence!” The marquess reached into his embroidered waistcoat, then drew out an object he kept curled in his bony hand. “I was afraid you might balk at this. Never mind that I gave your father his living, that your family has been indebted to me since the day you were born. You think to ignore that obligation. Well, I will not allow it.”
He held out his hand. In it was a small blue bottle containing a few drops of fluid. She knew only too well what it was.Laudanum. The remains of the laudanum she’d made up for Mama, to help soothe her pain from her wasting disease.
The same laudanum that had killed her.
When he was sure she’d recognized it, he tucked it back in his waistcoat pocket with a grim smile. “I see you understand. Until now, I thought it best to let everyone believe that your mother died of her illness. After all, it would have reflected badly upon me to have it known that my rector’s wife had killed herself. It would have caused a great scandal.”
“I don’t know for certain that she killed herself.” But of course she had.
On the horrible morning when she’d found Mama dead and the empty laudanum bottle lying on the floor beside the bed, Emily had been all alone. Unfortunately, just as Emily had found her mother, Lord Nesfield had arrived to speak to her father. He’d seen everything and had guessed the truth at once.
Distraught, she’d asked his advice. She’d wanted to confess all to Papa, but Lord Nesfield had insisted that she keep silent. He’d pointed out that hearing how her mother had really died would hurt her father deeply—not to mention what would happen if others learned the truth. A rector’s wife committing the ultimate sin against God would be a scandal so far-reaching, it would ruin her father forever. So she’d agreed to tell everyone that her mother had simply died of her disease. No one, not even Papa, was to know about the laudanum.
The sour pain of guilt gripped her as it had so many times before. It was her fault Mama had died—hers alone. If only she’d been more circumspect about where she kept the laudanum. In the throes of great pain, Mama couldn’t resist temptation. And secretly, Emily didn’t blame her. Perhaps it was wicked of her, but she thought it abominable the way the Church passed judgment on such matters.
“Come now, Miss Fairchild,” Lord Nesfield said coldly, “we both know your mother purposely took that laudanum to end her suffering. If I choose to let that be known, your father would be ruined.”
Could he do that? Would he be so awful? Yes, he would.
On the other hand, Papa would not want her to engage in such a deception even at the risk to his future. “I-I don’t know ...”
“If you’re still balking, let me point out one other matter. I have no proof that she took the laudanum herself. You might have given her the laudanum to end her suffering. This might not be a suicide after all, but a murder.”
Emily stared at him aghast. He had never even intimated … Surely he couldn’t believe …
Without remorse, he lifted his lorgnette to focus his gaze on her. The refractive glass made his eyes appear large and chilling. “I do not know what really happened, do I? All I have is a nearly empty bottle of laudanum. And everyone knows you dabble in physic.”
“But I would never?—”
“Wouldn’t you? To save your mother from further suffering? Granted, some might think it a noble gesture.” He patted his waistcoat pocket. “But the law does not. If I decided to unburden myself about the events of that day to … say … my friend, the magistrate, and made it clear that you could have done it yourself, he would be very interested. What do you think, Miss Fairchild? If it came to a trial, who do you think they would believe?”
