Page 98 of The Forbidden Lord
“Then I lost sight of you for a while. I thought we were going to leave the ball, but I couldn’t find you.”
Emily sat up in the chair, casting her father a nervous glance. That had been when she was with Jordan in his carriage.
“Since the last person you’d talked to was Sophie,” Lawrence continued, “I went in search of her to ask her where you were. I found her alone and very distraught.” He stopped, anger marring his features. “Some fool had joked within her hearing about the scene on the dance floor with her father, and she was mortified, nearly in tears. I … I did the only thing I could think of to cheer her up. I asked her to dance.”
Emily sighed. She could almost imagine it. Lawrence, struck by gallantry at the sight of Sophie’s distress, and Sophie, grateful to him for his kindness in the wake of other people’s cruelty.
Her cousin’s face softened into the dreamy countenance of a lover. “We danced two dances. They were utter bliss.”
Lawrence dancing twice? And calling it “utter bliss”? Her cousin truly had been shot by Cupid’s arrow to bring about this transformation.
“And on the basis of two ‘blissful’ dances, you eloped?” she said in astonishment.
“No, of course not.” Lawrence averted his gaze. “When I returned to London, I knew she was there for her coming out. So I … er … sort of tracked her down.”
“Tracked her down?” her father said, eyes narrowing.
“I hired a Bow Street Runner to find out where she was staying. Then one day when she went shopping with her maid, I followed her and—” He glanced guiltily at his uncle. “I pretended to … accidentally meet her on the street.”
“You mean, you lied to her.”
Lawrence squirmed under her father’s accusing look, and it was all she could do not to cry. Lawrence’s pretense paled compared to what she’d been doing for the past few weeks. When her father found out, it would probably send him to an early grave.
“It was a small lie, and the only one,” Lawrence said defensively. “She wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see her, so after that, we met regularly.”
“And when did you get it into your head to elope with a woman far above your station and out of the range of your purse, young man?” her father growled.
Lawrence straightened, towering over the older man. “I’ll have you know I make a very tidy living. And she doesn’t care about all that anyway. She loves me. That’s all that matters.”
“You think so?” Papa shook his head. “We’ll see if you’re so certain when she’s complaining about not having her own carriage and begging you to buy her some expensive bauble. Like is meant to stay with like, my son.”
Truer words were never spoken, Emily thought bleakly, reminded of her own thorny situation.
“I don’t care what you think, Uncle,” Lawrence said haughtily. “I shall marry Sophie. When I find her, that is.” He approached Emily, a determined expression on his face. “I’ve had the London house watched, and I’ve questioned the servants there and here, but I can discover nothing.”
Kneeling before her, he startled her by grabbing her hands, his face the very picture of a tormented man. “Please tell me where she is, dear cousin! You’re her closest friend—youmustknow! The servants said she was in the country, but she’s not here. And I didn’t for a minute believe that tale of Lady Dundee’s about the house party you were both attending. What have theydone with her? Is she truly engaged to be married as Lady Dundee claimed?”
Emily sighed. Curse the fool, he was so distraught, so deeply in love that it hurt to look at him. If only Jordan felt that for her … No, it was just as well he didn’t. By the time Lord Nesfield finished with her, there would be nothing left for him to love.
“Cousin?” he prodded.
“She’s not engaged.” She slumped against the chair. Now she had a choice—she could tell Lawrence where Sophie was … or give him over to Lord Nesfield. But after what Jordan had told her, she was sure the marquess would destroy Lawrence. Sophie would be miserable, and Lawrence would most likely be ruined or dead, for he’d never take Lord Nesfield’s money. Not her moral, rigid-minded cousin.
What’s more, Lord Nesfield would probably still blame Emily for what had transpired, especially if Sophie persisted in her feelings for Lawrence. After all, Emily had introduced the two of them, and behind the marquess’s back, besides. That would give him reason enough to act on his threats.
She sighed. She might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. “She’s in Scotland. At Lady Dundee’s estate.”
Lawrence looked suspicious. “But Lady Dundee is in London for her daughter’s coming out.”
Her father interrupted. “Her daughter’s coming out? Lady Dundee’s eldest is scarcely fifteen. Or so the marquess told me a few months ago when I inquired after his family. Surely that’s too young.”
“The servants told me,” Lawrence replied with some irritation, “that Lady Dundee and Lady Emma, her daughter, were in residence.”
Her father frowned. “Her name’s not Emma, it’s?—”
He broke off just as Lawrence’s gaze swung to her.
“It’s a long story,” she whispered. “I’ll tell you all about it, Papa, after Lawrence leaves.” She turned to her cousin and quickly told him everything Lady Dundee had said about where her estate was situated. “Now go on. Go fetch your Sophie, but be careful of Lord Dundee. I’m sure he’ll be watching out for his niece.”
