Page 36 of The Earl's Hired Bride
From the top of the short stairs he could see almost everything. A country-dance set had started to form—and there. Emily moved down the center, between the two lines.
“Excuse me!” He pushed his way down the stairs, past the stream of guests flowing in and out. “Excuse me!”
He lost her when he reached the bottom, but threaded through the crowd toward the dance floor.
“Excuse me!” It was her voice this time, echoing his words. He heard her as he drew closer, but couldn’t see her yet. “I’m very sorry to interrupt the pleasantries,” she said loudly. “But I’m afraid I have something to confess!”
Hart abandoned politeness and began to shoulder his way through. He could judge his progress by gasps and protests and exclamations.
Not fast enough.
“I’m afraid I must offer my apologies to you all!” She was still talking over people. “I’m afraid I’ve lied to you. You see, my name is not Emmaline Latham.”
Quiet settled around her and Hart broke through the crowd. Too late.
Confused murmurs and questions spread around them. He moved toward her, holding up a hand. “There is no need, my love.”
Tears welled, making her grey eyes shine. “There is, I’m afraid. You don’t know, Hart, the evil intent she carries.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he began.
“It does. The things she means to say . . .” She shook her head.
“It’s all over already, my darling. Her maid knows all of the truth. Molly convinced her to throw her lot in with us. I’ve spoken with the girl. She’s safely ensconced at Herrington House.”
A small, strangled sound made him look up into the ring around them, where Miss Paxton’s wide eyes conveyed her panic. He took pleasure in continuing. “She’s already told her story to the lady’s father. And to the magistrate.”
The young lady sobbed, then whirled and fled. Hart ignored her and turned to Emily, who, though still paler than he’d seen her, showed signs of fledgling hope.
“Truly?” she whispered.
The crowd muttered in confusion.
She looked around. “It’s too late, Hart. I have to tell them who I am. I will deal with the consequences, and then, maybe—”
“What is all of this?” someone demanded.
“I don’t know who the chit was supposed to be in the first place,” someone else complained.
“What’s kind of theatrics are these?” a woman asked.
“Tell us what you mean to say!”
Hart turned to address them, but stilled as the elderly Duke of Danby stepped forward to enter the open circle around them.
“Perhaps my great niece will allow me to explain.”
Chapter 10
Emily’s mouth fell open. She had to fight the instinctive urge to duck and run and yet she also suffered the strange compulsion to throw her arms around the older man.
But the duke was not waiting for her wayward emotions to catch up. He strolled around the small space, nodding at acquaintances and generally showing off. “You are privileged to be here for the telling of a good story—one that you will dine off of for months to come,” he said affably. He pointed to Hart. “And it starts last Season.”
Emily exchanged glances with Hart, but he merely shrugged and waved for the old man to continue.
“Now, you all know how I feel about the matrimonial state.” He paused for the titter that ran through the crowd. “I am generally a fan of those maneuvers that see a well matched couple safely wed. But the shenanigans that some of our own young ladies got up to last Spring . . . they went beyond the pale. Shameless.” He shook his head. “And unfair, to a family—and to a young man—still mourning a sad loss.”
More than one debutante turned her eyes to the ground.
