Page 35 of The Earl's Hired Bride
“For presenting yourself with a false name!”
“My mother has nothing to do with any of this. And unless Miss Emmaline Latham decides to leave her new husband and sail across the Atlantic to press charges, I’m afraid the courts will merely laugh at you. Until the earl and his mother testify for me, that is.” She gave the girl a look of pity. “You’ve played your hand and lost. Now do leave us alone.”
Emily made to leave, but Miss Paxton reached out and grabbed her. Her color was turning truly alarmingly red as she grew even more furious. “Not so fast,” she snarled. “You’ve forgotten your friend, the modiste. I’ll see her ruined, and her shop taken from her.”
Now that was a threat that could more easily be accomplished. A few rumors or insinuations and London’s gossip-susceptible ladies would decide not to frequent Madame Lalbert at all.
“And you’ve forgotten the fact that no one in Society has yet figured out your family’s dangerous financial situation.”
Miss Paxton released her. “You don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I know what the milliners and the glovers and the coal men and all of the rest of the tradesmen are talking about—the mountain of your family’s unpaid bills.”
“Tradesmen’s gossip? No one would bat an eye. You could say the same about any Society family.” She laughed. “So, we are at an impasse. But still, I will win, while you and Hartford and your seamstress friend go up in flames. Come,” she gestured. “Shall we go and start a scandal?”
Emily hesitated, but she saw the ugly resolution in the girl’s eyes. “Any Society family, you think?” she asked slowly. “How many of those debutantes out there are wearing paste jewels? Only you, I’d wager. But we could ask and take a count.”
That shook the evil chit. She turned. “How could you—?” Her eyes narrowed and Emily could nearly see the wheels spinning in her brain. “It was you,” she said wonderingly. “How did I miss it? You are that upstart, dirty, littlethief!”
“Go on and tell that one, too,” Emily invited. “And I’ll tell them all about Marcus Lionel Holt—and his babe that you carry.” She shook her head. “No, I am afraid you will have to settle for taking the father of your child to wed, and leave Hart alone.”
Miss Paxton had begun to look wild. “Marcus has nomoney!” she hissed.
“And yet,” Emily shrugged.
“No. I will not be beaten by the likes of you! Listen to me! You will go and have a footman tell Lord Hartford to meet you in the garden. There is a bank of flowering Hawthorne beyond the fountain. He will meet you—me—there.”
“No.”
Abruptly, all of the girl’s florid color faded away. And suddenly, the grim look of despair and determination on her face frightened Emily more than all of her angry bluster.
“This is all your fault,” Miss Paxton whispered. “All of it. You’ve left me no choice.” She sucked in a long breath. “Now I will remind you of how similar in looks and coloring Marcus and Hartford are. And I will tell you that if you do not do as I say, I will march out to the middle of that dance floor and tell my tale of woe to everyone here. How Hartford found me alone in the park and seduced—No! He brutally forced himself upon me. How I fought, but he laughed and overpowered me and left me without a glance.” Her lip curled. “Let his reputation recover from that! Either way, by the slight embarrassment of being caught in a tryst, or by being labeled a depraved abuser—he will pledge himself to marry me tonight.”
Aghast, Emily backed away. “You would tell such vile lies about an innocent man—and then force him to claim your child?”
“Without a second’s hesitation.”
The world tilted and Emily watched her slim chance at happiness sliding away from her. A ringing started up in her ears, but she ignored it. She had to think. She would not lose everything in vain.
“No.”
Resolute, she brushed past the wicked girl.
“What are you doing?”
“You are right. It is all my fault. And so I shall tell them all. The whole sordid story, beginning at the night I blackmailed you for a paste earring. I accept the blame for everything.” She glared at the girl. “And I will also take a page from your book, Miss Paxton and exercise my imagination. I will tell the same sort of ugly lies about you that you mean to visit upon Hart. Except mine will have a foot in the truth. How you got yourself an entire wardrobe when you cheated a dozen modistes by disparaging their finished work, claiming it was unsatisfactory, and then wearing it anyway. How you cuckolded Lord Ardman. Mr. Holt is here tonight, is he not? His reaction will only help sell the story. I’ll tell how you got yourself with child and when Lord Ardman’s absence made it impossible to trick him, you masterminded a plot with me to trap Hart into paying the price. It will come down to my word versus yours—and you are the one carrying a fatherless child. I’m sure I can come up with a few more sordid details as I go, too. I shall see how the muse moves me.”
“You wouldn’tdare!”
Emily laughed. “Oh, I would dare. I may be ruined, but I am taking you down with me.”
“No!”
“Yes.” On wooden feet she left the girl behind and headed for the ballroom.
* * *
Hart moved quicklythrough his aunt’s house, looking for Emily. He knew she was here somewhere and he feared Miss Paxton had cornered her in some out of the way spot and was making her miserable. He searched everywhere, then headed back to the ball room.
