The Forbidden Lord (2 page)

“So you were listening in, were you?” she said dryly. “I should have known. Well, you’ll be happy to know you can finally take me home.”

He stayed oddly silent.

“You
are
ready to escape this tedium, aren’t you?” she said.

When he answered, his voice was low and huskier than usual. “Oh, yes. I’ve been ready for hours. But aren’t you planning to bid our host and hostess good-bye?”

“Oh, I should, shouldn’t I?” she said, ashamed that she’d forgotten such an important courtesy. “Still, I don’t want Lord Nesfield to see me. Do you mind doing it without me?”

He shrugged. “Not at all.” With a bow that was strangely gentlemanly for Lawrence, he headed past her into the ballroom.

While she waited for him, she strode the balcony nervously. He seemed to be taking an awfully long time. Going to the doorway, she glanced in, but he was halfway across the room, speaking to the Worthings and gesturing to her. Quickly, she darted back onto the balcony and paced some more.

Once he returned, they hurried along the shadowy gallery until they reached the last room before
the foyer. Then they walked briskly through it to where the footmen awaited the guests’ leisure.

Lawrence spoke in an undertone to the servants, who then scurried about, gathering her pelisse and his greatcoat as if the two of them were very important guests. How strange. The servants had often seen her here before and never treated her with such extravagant courtesy. What
had
Lawrence told them?

As a servant helped her into her velvet pelisse, she thought he regarded her oddly. Then he darted away, making her wonder if she’d imagined it. The carriage was brought to the door with amazing speed, undoubtedly because it was one of Lady Dryden’s. Emily and Lawrence had been unable to take the Fairchild carriage because it was being repaired, so Lady Dryden had generously offered to send one for them.

Lawrence opened the ornate door and handed her in. She relaxed only after he’d ordered the coachman to drive on. “It was fun for a while, but I was quite glad to leave, weren’t you?”

He leaned back against the seat, the moonlight touching on his smiling mouth. There was something odd about his smile. It seemed different. “Yes, indeed. So good of you to suggest it.”

“Suggest it? Don’t be silly, Lawrence. You’ve been wanting to leave that ball almost since we got there.”

The man across from her went very still. “Lawrence? Who the deuce is Lawrence?”

If his surprise hadn’t told her that she’d made a drastic error, his language would have. Lawrence would never use such words in front of a rector’s daughter. That’s why his smile looked different and why the servants had behaved oddly when she’d left with him!

“You’re n-not Lawrence,” she whispered inanely, her heart leaping into her throat as he frowned and quickly removed his mask.

Dear heavens. The man had Lawrence’s red hair and Lawrence’s build and Lawrence’s attire.

And a very different face.

“Of course I’m not Lawrence,” he snapped. “What kind of game are you playing?” He tilted his head, and she glimpsed his hard male jaw and clean-shaven throat before the moon ducked behind the clouds, extinguishing what little light had filtered into the carriage. “You know very well who I am. That’s why you said all that nonsense to Lady Sophie in my defense.”

Removing his silk top hat, he laid it on the well-padded cushion of the brocade seat, and the very intimacy the action implied sent her into a panic. What nonsense had she said in his defense? What did he mean? Obviously he meant her conversation with Sophie, which he’d clearly overheard. But they’d only talked of the girl’s coming out and her fears and…

Goodness gracious. And Lord Blackmore. They’d discussed Lord Blackmore at length. What had Sophie started to tell her? That Lord Blackmore looked an awful lot like someone? Lawrence. That’s who his lordship resembled.

It couldn’t be. “Are you saying you’re…you’re—”

“Blackmore, of course. But you know that quite well.”

His irritated tone drew her up short. There was no cause for alarm. This was just a silly mistake, one they could quickly correct. The entire misunderstanding was her fault anyway. She couldn’t very well blame him for taking her at her word and assuming that she needed an escort home.

“No, I didn’t know. I’m afraid you look a great deal like my cousin, Lawrence, who’s my escort this evening. In the darkness on the balcony, I mistook you for him. It’s a simple error, no harm done.”

Jordan Willis, the Earl of Blackmore, gaped at the trim, attractive woman across from him. What kind of joke was this? “Your cousin?” Deuce take it. Could this situation merely be a devilish strange mistake? He’d been wearing a mask, after all, but red hair like his was rare.

He’d assumed she was merely a lusty widow wanting a private encounter with him. Yet she did seem agitated. And if she really were telling the truth, then…“Are you claiming that you actually
meant
all that nonsense about my reputation being undeserved?”

“Of course I meant it.” She seemed bewildered by his reaction. “Why would you think otherwise?”

He stretched an arm out along the seat back. Surely the woman couldn’t be so naive, given what she’d heard of him. “Because when a beautiful widow defends me in my hearing, she generally means to impress me.”

“A widow? You think I’m a widow?” Flipping out her fan, she worked it in agitated motions. “Oh, dear, so that’s why you came along with me so easily. Because you thought…I mean, you assumed—”

“That you were a widow eager for a little company. Yes.” A sense of impending doom descended on him. “Tell me I wasn’t mistaken.”

“But you were! This is all a terrible error! I’m not a widow. I’m in mourning for my mother, who died last year.”

The sense of doom roared in his head. She wasn’t
a widow. She was probably some squire’s virginal daughter. And he’d carried her off in his carriage without regard for who might see them.

No, he couldn’t be that stupid. “You’re joking. This is some sort of game.”

“Not at all! I’m telling the truth!”

“Am I to understand that you’re unmarried?” His stomach began to churn.

Her head bobbed furiously.

“And pure as the driven snow, I suppose.” Anger exploded in his brain. How could he have acted so heedlessly? “You’re right, madam. This is indeed a terrible error.”

“You
must
take me back at once, now that you see I’m not the sort of woman you thought. The longer you keep me out here, the more my reputation suffers. Besides, my cousin will be looking for me.”

That brought him up short. Her cousin would be looking for her. And who else; her eager father? Her scheming aunt? What if she’d lied about mistaking him for her cousin? Overzealous mamas had laid traps for him before. It was one reason he’d always given a wide berth to unmarried young women.

And what about the way she’d defended him so adamantly? What young woman would have done so if not to make an impression upon him? She must have known he was eavesdropping. She hadn’t acted at all surprised to find him standing there.

Cold anger settled in his gut like a bad meal. “I suspect your cousin knows exactly where you are right now.”

She dropped her fan into her lap. “What do you mean?”

He interpreted her wary expression as more in
dication of her guilt. “You know exactly what I mean. This was all a little plot, wasn’t it? If I return to the ball, I’ll find a host of people awaiting us, ready to force me into ‘fixing’ my indiscretion. Well, let me tell you something. If you think I shall let some clever virgin trap me into marriage—”

“Trap you into marriage! You don’t think that I…that this…” She sputtered to a halt, then drew a shaky breath. “You think I purposely did this? Made you take me out in a carriage unchaperoned at the risk to my reputation?”

“What else am I to think? You defended me when you surely realized I was standing there listening. All that nonsense about mistaking me for your cousin—”

“Why, you insolent, presuming blackguard! I see that I misjudged Sophie’s information entirely! Obviously, you know only one sort of woman, which explains why you don’t recognize a decent woman when you meet one!”

“Oh, I recognize decent women quite well,” he snapped, his ancient fear rearing its ugly head. “They play games like this to catch themselves prominent, rich husbands. They want money, position, and the chance to run a man’s life into the ground, and they’ll use anything to get it.”

When she gave a choked gasp, he added with deliberate coarseness, “Indecent women, on the other hand, are honest in what they expect for the pleasures they provide. They’re easy to manage, take little time away from important pursuits, and don’t ask for more than a man can give. Oh, yes, I recognize the difference. And I prefer indecent women to so-called decent women any day.”

She straightened to fix him with a frosty gaze. “You may find this hard to believe, Lord Blackmore, but there are women other than the ones
you’ve described, women who don’t need to advance their position or fortune by tricking some hapless man into marriage. I’m one of them. I’m quite happy with my own life, thank you very much, and don’t need to ‘run’ yours to find satisfaction. And I most certainly did
not
set out to trap you. I merely made a mistake, one that appears more grievous for every moment I spend in your disgusting presence!”

The vehemence in her voice took him by surprise. She did look the very picture of affronted womanhood. But then, she’d have to be a bit of an actress to pull this off, wouldn’t she?

“So you claim not to have known I was listening to your conversation?”

“I do
not
have such appalling bad manners as to allow my friend to gossip about a man within his hearing!”

“All right,” he said in clipped tones. “Let’s say you’re telling the truth. If you were oblivious to my presence on the balcony, why on earth did you defend me to Lady Sophie when you had no idea who I was or whether the gossip was true?”

She met his gaze coldly. “I knew of your work in Parliament. That
seemed
to show you to be honest and good.”

He winced inwardly at her emphasis on “seemed.” Had he been too hasty in his judgment of her?

The coach lurched, throwing her to the side long enough to expose one trim and decidedly pretty ankle before she righted herself. “Besides, it’s not right for people to malign a man when he’s not there to defend himself. If one doesn’t know the truth, one should keep silent. My father, the rector of Willow Crossing, raised me not to listen to such idle gossip.”

“Your father is a rector?” His uneasiness deepened. A rector’s daughter? Setting a trap for him? That seemed too unlikely. He groaned. He’d made a nasty mistake in letting his anger get the better of him. Despite her mask, he could see her eyes snap.

“Yes,” she said, barely pausing to acknowledge his question. “You could learn a lot from him. He doesn’t judge people without knowing anything about them. He’s always quoting Matthew 7:1, ‘Judge not, that ye be not judged.’”

For God’s sake, the woman was reciting the Bible, chapter and verse.

“I live by those words,” she went on, now fully provoked. “No one but God has the right to judge a person’s behavior, not even you. And furthermore—”

“Enough, madam.”

She went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “There’s the scripture that says—”

“Madam, leave off! I believe you.”

Her expression was priceless, almost disappointed, like that of a preacher denied a pulpit. “You what?”

“I believe you.” Even he, with his cynical view of the world, couldn’t believe that a woman could quote scripture and plot against him at the same time. Glancing away, he grumbled, “Clearly, you’re not…the sort of woman I took you for.”

“I should think not,” she said loftily.

Gritting his teeth, he added, “I’m sorry to have offended you.”

There was a long, chilly silence from the other end of the carriage. Good God, he’d made a horrible mistake. He would have recognized it earlier, but he’d been so furious at being caught in this devilish position that he hadn’t been thinking. Ob
viously, if she’d been trying to trap him, she wouldn’t have told him so soon of her error. She would have tried enticing him to compromise her.

But she’d done none of that. What’s more, he’d just insulted her beyond countenance. He shot her a glance, wondering what she was thinking.

She watched him with all the wariness of a cornered deer. “So you admit that I was not trying to trick you?”

“Yes.”

“You acknowledge that you were completely in the wrong?”

“Yes, yes, deuce take it!”

She sniffed and drew herself up. “You needn’t curse at me.”

“Now you’re correcting my language, for God’s sake.” He sighed. “You’re as pernicious as my stepsister. She bedevils me until I admit I’m wrong. And she, too, corrects my language and quotes scripture in an attempt to make me mend my ways.”

“Then she must spend a great deal of time correcting your language and memorizing scripture.”

He stared at her, then broke into laughter. “Indeed she does.” The girl had a spine, he’d give her that. No woman but Sara ever dared to criticize him to his face, although many undoubtedly did behind his back.

This rector’s daughter was an intriguing little thing. Not a simpering, foolish bone in her body, unlike most of the young women foisted upon him these days. Was she pretty as well, behind that mask? The rest of her certainly looked promising.

Good God, what was he thinking? She was a virgin. “A rector’s daughter quoting scripture,” he said, trying to fix the thought in his head. “I’ve truly caught myself an innocent, haven’t I?”

“Yes.” She smoothed her skirts primly. “Now you must throw me back.”

“Indeed I must.” But he made no move to order his coachman to turn the carriage around. First they must consider the potential problems arising from his fatal error. “Tell me something, Miss…Miss…”

“Fairchild,” she supplied.

He groaned. “Even your name cries out purity and innocence.” As the carriage rumbled on, he crossed his arms over his chest. “How shall I get you back to the ball without ruining your reputation? If your cousin is looking for you, he’s liable to be standing on the doorstep when we return.”