Page 73 of The Forbidden Lord
“Then let him speak to Randolph. What does it matter? It might even be a good thing: Randolph might be forced to end this foolishness. Then I can convince him to accept St. Clair as Sophie’s suitor.”
The countess’s vaguely smug voice struck fear in Emily’s heart. “Oh, don’t even think that. You know your brother won’t accept the viscount. And he’d blamemefor destroying all his plans. He’d never forgive me.”
“Pish-posh, what if he doesn’t?” When she saw Emily’s agitation, she added, “If it’s your father’s living you’re worried about, there’s no problem. I suppose Randolph has threatened to cut your father off. That’s why you’ve been so worried, isn’t it?”
Emily just stared at her, her fingers curling into the satin upholstery in frustration.
“Well, you needn’t concern yourself about that. Even if Randolph did as he threatened, which I can’t imagine he would,I’d make sure that your father found another equally attractive living.” She smiled and patted Emily’s hand. “So you see, there’s nothing for you to worry about. You must leave it all to me.”
Nothing for her to worry about. Lord Nesfield was willing to see her hanged, and she had nothing to worry about? How she wished she could explain that to the countess. But Lord Nesfield had promised to keep silent only if she did, too. She was wretchedly trapped between Lady Dundee’s meddling and Jordan’s obsession.
“So don’t you worry about Lord Blackmore, my dear,” Lady Dundee went on, apparently thinking she’d solved all of Emily’s problems. “We will weather the storm if he speaks to Pollock. Or to Randolph.”
It was all Emily could do to paste a false smile to her face and give the countess a nod. She’d find no help here. She’d have to discover a way out of this mess on her own.
But how?
The coach slowed almost to a stop, and the sounds of horses and loud voices assailed their ears. Lady Dundee peered out the window. “Oh, dear, the ball at Mrs. Crampton’s must be quite lively. There are carriages and hackney coaches everywhere blocking the road. We’ll have to walk the last little bit, I’m afraid.”
They were nearly in sight of the house, so walking wasn’t too awful, especially with the footmen to aid them in the more crowded spots. Indeed, Emily was glad to get out into the night air. She only wished it was the bracing, clean air of Willow Crossing, not London’s smoke-choked ether. She badly needed to clear her mind, to figure out some plan.
Gingerly, they picked their way among the horses and coaches, trying not to soil their gowns. “It appears we’re in for a long night,” Lady Dundee complained as a coachman shouted to one of his friends. “We won’t get any sleep with all this racket.A pity. You’ll need all your wits about you for meeting Lord Blackmore in the morning.” She cast Emily a sidelong glance. “You know he only torments you because he cares for you.”
“Cares for me?” she said in a burst of anger. “And all this time I’d thought you a wise woman. Obviously, I mistook madness for wisdom.”
“Sometimes they’re the same. Madness can be a symptom of wisdom. Those who know the truth aren’t always happy to hear it, you know.” She smiled and lowered her voice so the footman at her side couldn’t hear her. “But in this case, I’m neither mad nor wise. I’m merely stating what any woman my age knows. Men are peculiar creatures very different from us, my dear. When they want something badly, they don’t like to admit it. No man wants to need a woman for anything. But since theydoneed us, and for more than merely our presence in their beds, their only recourse is to hound us while stoutly proclaiming they only want their desires fulfilled.”
“Lord Blackmore does only want his desires fulfilled,” Emily whispered. “Sometimes it’s as if he’s angry at me because he desires me and can’t have me.”
“I’m sure that’s part of it. Though I suspect that even if you were to leap into his bed and give him exactly what he wanted, he would still be unfulfilled.”
Emily blushed at the countess’s frankness. Lady Dundee was wrong. Jordan wanted only one thing from Emily. If she were to give it to him, he’d go away at once and leave her alone.
She straightened. That’s exactly what he’d do. Leave her alone!
He professed to be concerned for her, but she knew better. He only wanted to find out the truth because he was jealous. And his jealousy came from a lack of having his desires satisfied. He wanted her in his bed, but he wouldn’t take her if it meant having to marry her.
So what if she offered him what he wanted, making it clear she didn’t expect anything in return? Perhaps after his appetites were appeased, he’d give up this foolish obsession with knowing everything. Then his interest in her would wane, and with it, his interest in her masquerade.
“Emily, have you heard a word I said?” Lady Dundee remarked.
In sudden fear that the countess might guess the direction of her thoughts, she lowered her gaze to the paved street, pretending to watch her step in the darkness. “Yes.”
“I said even if you gave him what he wanted, he would still be unfulfilled.”
“I know what you said.” She just didn’t believe it. For too many years, Jordan had hardened himself against feeling anything but lust. After a lifetime of merely satisfying his carnal appetites, he wasn’t likely to change now. No, if she gave him what he wanted, she would be free of him.
But at what a cost!
As they reached the house, she entered behind Lady Dundee, her thoughts in a turmoil. If she offered him her body in exchange for his silence, she would save Papa. And ruin her future. She might even find herself with child like Jordan’s mother.
Well, she could only pray that wouldn’t happen. And if it did, it was a small price to pay to keep from going to the gallows. Compared to Lord Nesfield’s plans for her, one night with Jordan would be no risk at all. And it must be tonight, before Jordan could make good on his threats.
A sudden dreadful thought popped into her mind. What if he refused to accept her bargain?
Carter helped her remove her pelisse, and she glanced down despairingly at her satin gown with its modest cut and girlish color that made her look like the virginal rector’s daughter shetruly was. Jordan would never agree to this. He’d restrained himself from touching or kissing her at the opera, even when he’d wanted to, and all because of his aversion to innocent young women and the complications they could bring to his life.
She stiffened. All right then, it wouldn’t be the pure Emily Fairchild who went to him: it would be Lady Emma. His words this evening proved that he already doubted her character; she’d use that to her advantage. Tonight she would strike a bargain with him, even if she had to seduce him, and yes, lie to him about her virginity.
