Page 63 of Fortune Favors the Viscount
“Nick,” she said softly. He flinched at his name, whispered as a lover might do. She put her hand on his chest. “I have to tell you about Fitchley.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Emilia had been dreading this moment ever since he’d asked about Lucy’s guardian.
She told herself that she’d never lied to Nick about Fitchley. She’d told him the baron was uncaring, unreasonable, and unfit to be Lucy’s guardian, which was completely true. She’d merely left out exactly how she knew all that about him—and why she was so determined to avoid the man.
Nick didn’t seem worried or startled by her words. He regarded her for a moment, then took her hand and led her back to the settee and poured wine.
Emilia took her glass but nervously set it down. “I might need that later.”
“More can be ordered.” He leaned back, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. He draped one arm across the back of the sofa. Even without the hat and greatcoat, he looked wicked and rough, and Emilia had to pinch the inside of her thumb to keep her wicked thoughts at bay. She’d thought he might kiss her, by the window, when she was all but leaning against him with her head on his shoulder. She’d wished he would; he’d said he wanted to kiss her again...
But he hadn’t. He’d said he wouldn’t. He’d promised that she was safe from any unwanted attentions from him. Emilia wished he’d said something aboutwantedattentions. She truly might be going mad. She’d lain awake all that night, after the kiss, calculating exactly how many months until she would be free to do whatever she wanted.
Too many, was the answer. And in the meantime, Lucy needed her.
She took a deep breath. “I told you that Mr. Parker-Lloyd was once acquainted with my uncle and my father as well as with Lord Fitchley. The truth is that all four of them were great friends for many years. Perhaps they still are, save my father, who died several years ago.”
Nick sipped his wine and waited, watching her with patient eyes.
“My father took after my grandmother, and was a creature of high society. He and my uncle were rather notorious in their youth, I believe, and fell in with Fitchley’s crowd. The races were their passion, and Lord Fitchley’s family owned a well-known racing stable. Naturally they wagered, and at one point my father suffered a large loss he couldn’t pay. He was barely twenty-two. Grandpapa said he would pay the debt, but only if my father married and settled down. Papa had no choice—I believe it was a crushing amount—so he married my mother, who was a sensible girl from a good family.”
She sighed. “You might guess that it wasn’t the happiest marriage. Mama had a large dowry, but Papa’s habits were well known, and both my grandfathers conspired to parcel it off in trust for her children. I was born a year later. Before I turned two, my mother died in childbed, along with the babe. It took Papa only two months to leave me at Grandpapa’s estate and head back to London.”
“I’m sorry you lost her,” he said quietly.
Emilia nodded. “I don’t even remember her,” she confessed. “I have a portrait of her and some of her things, but no memories.” She flashed a fleeting smile at him. “I’d rather have the memories.”
His eyes were dark with compassion. “I understand.”
“So.” She straightened her shoulders. “I grew up at Grandpapa’s estate, called the Willows, which was lovely. He was a bit gruff but really warm and kind. Whenever my father did come to visit, I was always glad to see him leave.” She grimaced. “That sounds heartless, but he didn’t care for me and I barely knew him. It was a great favor he did, leaving me with Grandpapa, whom I loved dearly.” She paused, trying to think how best to explain the next part. “Grandpapa died when I was sixteen. I was away at school then, which was very fortunate for me. Uncle John became the new earl upon Grandpapa’s death, and he was just as unlucky a gambler as my father. He was in debt when he inherited and he promptly set about trying to wring as much as he could from the estate.
“First he wrote to Mrs. Upton, the headmistress of my school, saying he wanted me sent home and my tuition returned. Grandpapa had paid it before he died, and Uncle tried to say those were estate funds. The headmistress was wonderful, and she protected me from my uncle’s demands. She wrote back to him that she did not refund school fees, and that she would not send me back against my will.”
Nick was frowning. “He wanted you tossed out of school for a few pounds?”
Emilia nodded. “His first choice, in every circumstance, was to preserve his own comfort. I believe he was eventually forced to sell some horses to cover his debts, which would have infuriated him. The stables were his passion, if not his fortune.”
Still scowling, Nick drank and nodded for her to go on.
“At the time, Uncle and Papa were engaged in a very expensive enterprise. They intended to expand their stables, import several prized horses for breeding, and start a stud farm, but things didn’t go to plan. One of the stallions died soon after arrival, and the property they bought wasn’t as good for grazing as they had been told. They had gone into this with some friends as investors, and were now buried in debt, when it struck them that they could win some leeway with a betrothal.
“It took Uncle a few months to remember my trust. Not only did it hold half my mother’s dowry, Grandpapa had added to it. Grandpapa had tied it up well, and there was no way my uncle could get at it. But the trust would become my husband’s when I married, and eventually he hit upon a plan. He convinced Papa that the right marriage could benefit everyone—I would be tidied away, and my husband would be very grateful to my father for giving him a wealthy bride.”
She closed her eyes. Nick made a faint noise, but when she looked at him, his expression was somber, no judgment or shock in it.
“My father told me I would marry Fitchley, who was nearly twenty years older than I. I was only seventeen. I argued and pleaded, but he was adamant.” She cast a bitter look at Nick. “Later I discovered they owed Fitchley almost ten thousand pounds.”
His face might have been carved from stone. He said nothing.
“This will sound terrible,” she went on, “but fortunately my father passed away before he could force me to the altar. A carriage accident. He was drunk. He and his groom both died, and the horse had to be put down. It was dreadful. I was eighteen by then, and the day after I heard the news, I wrote to Lord Fitchley breaking our betrothal. My uncle was furious. Papa had named him my guardian, and he stopped my allowance, telling me to ‘come to my senses.’ I was too stubborn to give in, so I decided to support myself.” She managed a smile. “After my expensive and excellent schooling, I was well-qualified to teach.”
“Surely your mother’s family would have helped you, or friends.”
Emilia sighed. “My grandparents had died. My mother’s sister married a stern man, who believed I should obey my uncle.” She twisted her hands together. “I did inquire about withdrawing money from the trust, but Grandpapa had done too good a job, and the attorney wrote regretfully that he was unable to advance me any funds. My friends...”
She frowned at her fingers. Arabella had offered her sanctuary, more than once, and Emilia had been tempted, especially in the beginning. Her uncle had expected it; he’d sent a demanding letter to Arabella’s father. The earl had thrown it on the fire, but Emilia had sensed danger in remaining where her uncle—and Fitchley—could easily find her. “I did not want to be a burden on friends,” she said in a low voice. “And I thought it better to maintain some distance from my family.”
