Something About Emmaline (28 page)

“Knocked me over, most decidedly,” Templeton was saying. “Your wife…well, you must know now, for here you are.”

“My wife?” Alex repeated, his eyes narrowing.

Templeton watched him carefully. “So you don’t know, and this was just a reconnaissance trip. You have commendable instincts, sir. I should introduce you to a friend of mine. Pymm, his name is. He’s always on the lookout for a man of intelligence and wit.”

The clip-clop of hooves broke into the man’s words and he looked up. “Good enough. Here is Elton himself. We’ll see what he has to say about your arrival. I bet him you wouldn’t be here before tomorrow. So, you see, I’ve lost a crown to the man, but don’t remind him, because I haven’t a farthing to my name right now, and I’m behind on his wages again.”

Elton stopped the carriage before the house. He jumped down and gave a passing nod to his erstwhile employer. Instead he stopped and met Alex’s gaze with his own level and deadly stare. “You’ve come about Button.”

Alex nodded in reply. “So you do know her, know who she is.”

“Of course I do,” Elton said, spitting at the cobbles in the street. “She’s my daughter.”

Of all the things that Alex had expected to hear, this was not one of them. And here he’d been almost foolish enough to think she hadn’t any secrets left.

He must have looked as taken aback as he felt.

“Demmit, Elton,” Temple cursed, “you can’t keep telling people like that, just dropping it like a French cannonball.
Did the same thing to me the other night and I nearly fell out of the carriage.” He nodded toward the door. “Come inside and have a drink, Sedgwick. You look like you could use it. Besides, I don’t suppose you would like your wife’s history being aired in public, even this poor public.”

Alex nodded and followed Temple inside, with Elton bringing up the rear.

Once settled inside the infamous marquis’ apartments, Alex was struck by their spartan, almost military decoration. A map of England hung on one wall, while another of France was tacked to the opposing one. Hardly the lodgings one would expect of the future Duke of Setchfield.

“You are Emmaline’s father?” Alex asked Elton once Temple had poured all three of them drinks.

“Yes,” the gruff man replied. “I can see you don’t approve, but her being my gel shouldn’t be the worst of your concerns.”

Temple laughed. “I don’t know. If I found out my bride was a highwayman’s daughter, I might be a little disgruntled.”

“Well, we both know that won’t happen,” Elton muttered.

Whatever undertones, whatever the story was behind the man’s statement, Alex hadn’t time to fathom. “Are you saying Emmaline is in some sort of danger?”

Elton didn’t answer, he just handed Alex a folded sheet of paper. Then he nodded at him to open it.

It was a manifest from a ship, the
Bountiful Miss.

He wasn’t too sure what this had to do with Emmaline, so he looked up at Elton.

The man heaved an aggrieved sigh and pointed halfway down the page. Alex looked, as did Temple, who peered over his shoulder.

“No!” Alex managed to sputter as he read the passenger list.

“That ain’t the end of it,” Elton told him. “The fellow was met at the docks by your cousin.”

“Hubert,” he muttered under his breath. And there was only one place his double-crossing relation would take the gentleman—Hanover Square. He rose and headed straight for the door.

“Hubert?” Temple said as he followed them both out the door. “But I thought the name on the list said Howard. Howard, Lord Haley.”

E
mmaline and Lady Sedgwick arrived back at Hanover Square not long after, the dowager having argued with Emmaline the entire way to stay with Sedgwick. Even after she confided the truth: that she was already married.

But the lady was undeterred. She believed that Emmaline should trust that Alex would find a way to muddle through the seemingly insurmountable difficulties ahead. Even as they pulled into the square, she confessed, “I should never have sent Mr. Elliott chasing after that property, but he’s Scottish and such a thrifty fellow, I knew he would rise to the bait and leave London to secure it.”

They were greeted at the door by a dour-faced Simmons. “Ma’am, my lady,” he demurred before he shot a glance over his shoulder.

“What is it, Simmons?” Emmaline asked.

“Trouble, madam. Hubert has—”

“That will be enough, Simmons,” Hubert called out from
the doorway of the sitting room. “I will take over from here. Ladies, if you please, come in here.”

Lady Sedgwick shot her grandson an annoyed glance. “Hubert Denford, what do you think you are doing? I will not be ordered about—”

“Madam, come inside and sit down, or we can discuss your companion’s lineage right here.”

Emmaline gulped. Oh, dear heavens. Hubert had discovered the truth.

Just then an elderly man came tottering out of the back library. “You were right, Mr. Denford, the baron has an excellent collection of first-edition Billingsworths. I look forward to discussing my scientific finds with him, since you’ve said he would be—” He stopped when he spied Emmaline and Lady Sedgwick. “Oh, pardon me, where are my manners. Howard, Lord Haley, at your service.” He made a low bow, which was a good thing, for both Lady Sedgwick and Emmaline gaped in a most unladylike manner at the man.

Lord Haley? Emmaline’s father? It couldn’t be!

“Wh-what did you say your name was, sir?” Lady Sedgwick stammered.

“Howard, Lord Haley, ma’am. Not surprised no one recalls me. Been in Africa for nearly thirty years. Out of society for far too long and, sadder still, away from the company of such lovely ladies.” He made another bow, yet as he arose, his gaze strayed over Emmaline, his brow furrowing as he examined her features. Then he shook his head and took Lady Sedgwick’s hand and brought it elegantly to his lips.

Emmaline glanced up at Hubert and found him grinning
like a cat. The wretched bastard had brought Lord Haley here not for the noble scientific ideals that the man thought, but to ruin Sedgwick once and for all.

“Lord Haley,” Hubert said, with all the oily charm of a rag merchant, “would you excuse us for a moment? I must speak to my relatives. I do believe you will find the view of the garden in the back salon quite refreshing after your long voyage, and my wife would be more than happy to see to some refreshments.”

The man smiled, completely unaware of his role in this Machiavellian farce. “Sounds lovely,” he said.

Lady Lilith came forward from the hallway most willingly. “Lord Haley, this way. I shall ring for tea. When was the last time you had a nice fruit tart? Our cook is tolerable, but I believe the Earl of Tottley’s chef sent over a fine selection just the other day.”

Lord Haley followed her, while Hubert pointed toward the front sitting room. “If you will…”

Lady Sedgwick and Emmaline surrendered to his request, if only because they had no choice.

Once inside the room, Hubert closed the door with a confident slam. “Now, now, now, whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?” he asked Emmaline.

“Don’t be an ass,” Lady Sedgwick sputtered. “That is Alex’s—”

He shot her a withering stare. “That will be enough. The charade ends now. I know, you know, we all know this tart isn’t Emmaline Denford. There is no Emmaline Haley Denford, never was and never has been, and that man,” he said, pointing in the direction of the rear of the house, “has no offspring.”

“Hubert, don’t do this,” Emmaline said, coming forward to lay a gentle hand on his sleeve. “You don’t want to do this to Sedgwick.”

“Sedgwick!” he sputtered. “I should be Sedgwick.”

“Oh, not that infernal rot,” Lady Sedgwick muttered as she collapsed into a nearby chair.

“Yes, and it isn’t rot,” he said, his voice rising. “There is no reason to believe that I am not the rightful heir to the Sedgwick title.”

Lady Sedgwick rolled her gaze upward.

Emmaline glanced from her to Hubert and asked the question, “Why would you be the baron?”

“Ask her,” he said, pointing at his grandmother.

Lady Sedgwick blew out a noisy breath. “That was fifty years ago—and I am convinced I picked the right heir.”

Picked the right heir? What the devil could that mean?

Hubert paced in front of his grandmother. “You mixed them up! You didn’t even know which baby was which and then you just picked, helter-skelter, which child was to be the heir and which was to be surrendered to obscurity.”

Emmaline glanced over at her, shocked by this revelation.

The lady shrugged with typical Gallic nonchalance as if she’d merely spilled the tea. “Alex and Hubert’s fathers were twins,” she explained. “A few months after they were born, I was with them while their nurse was out and somehow I got Alex’s father and his uncle mixed up. I couldn’t tell which baby was which. The heir or the second-born.”

Emmaline stared at her. “Oh, heavens no.”

“Her own children,” Hubert scoffed. “Couldn’t tell them apart.”

“They were twins, for heaven’s sakes. Identical in every way. Not even their nurse could tell which was which. So my dear Alex was summoned and he was quite cross with me. He ordered me to pick which one was the heir and which was to be the spare.”

“And so she did, with no real proof either way,” Hubert said accusingly. “There is no reason to believe that I am not the rightful heir.”

Emmaline could think of a thousand reasons, but that was the least of her concerns. Sedgwick’s place as baron was assured, but his future was anything but glowing.

Not with Hubert plotting his social ruin.

“What do you want, Hubert?” his grandmother asked.

“I want her to leave,” he said, pointing at Emmaline.

“That’s all?” she asked, incredulous that such a thing was the extent of Hubert’s price.

“Yes, you are going to leave Sedgwick. Desert him,” Hubert told her.

Now she saw the real prize he was after. But couldn’t he see that it would never work?

The dowager saw the flaw in his plan as well. “Hubert, you fool, Sedgwick will never stand for this. You could send Emmaline to the ends of the earth and your cousin would find her. You cannot separate them.”

“I can and I will,” Hubert said, folding his hands behind his back and beginning to pace pompously about the room. “With his wife gone, Sedgwick will be unable to remarry. Unable to secure an heir, assuring the barony will pass to me, where it rightfully belongs.”

“That is, if you survive him,” his grandmother muttered under her breath.

Sedgwick, Elton and Temple arrived at Hanover Square at the same time as the Duchess of Cheverton’s carriage came to stop in front of Number Seventeen.

“Your Grace,” Sedgwick said, bowing low. Temple and Elton followed suit.

“Sedgwick, I must speak to you. There is something about your wife that has come to my attention…” She glanced over at the other two. “Temple,” she said with a nod in his direction. “This matter doesn’t concern you.” Thinking him properly dismissed, she wrapped her arm around Sedgwick’s and towed him up the steps.

“Please don’t believe it gives me any pleasure to be the one to tell you this,” she said, “but your wife was playing cards in a most disreputable inn last night.” She paused and glanced at Alex, as if assessing his reaction. “She was gambling with servants. And I have reason to believe she isn’t who you think she is.”

Alex wanted to beat his head against the wall. First Hubert’s duplicity, and now the Duchess of Cheverton at his doorstep. He didn’t think there was anything left that could surprise him today. “Your Grace, I’m sure that there has been some sort of misunderstanding,” he said, hoping to mollify her. “But I fear this isn’t a good time to call.” He took her arm and tried steering her back to her carriage, but the lady would not be naysaid.

“Sedgwick, we can discuss this inside like civilized members of society, or we can discuss this in the street like a gaggle of fishwives,” she said in a loud, imperious voice that most likely could be heard in Hyde Park, if not Cheapside.

“She does have you there,” Temple said over his shoulder.

The duchess turned her infamous cold stare on the mar
quis. “Temple, be gone, or I will have a word with your grandfather as to your disrespect.”

“You will find him a sympathetic ear, Your Grace,” he said, paying no heed to her glare. “For he says the same of me daily.”

The duchess made an indignant “harrumph” and marched up the steps of Number Seventeen, entering the house as if it were her own.

Alex, Temple and Elton had no choice but to follow her.

Simmons was nowhere in sight, but there was an older man standing on the stairs studying the watercolors Emmaline had hung there.

“Fine work,” he said, looking up at Alex. He adjusted his spectacles. “Lord Sedgwick, I presume?”

Alex nodded.

“I am—”

“Lord Haley?” the duchess exclaimed. “Howard? Is that you?”

“Your Grace,” he said, making a courtly bow. “I am honored you still remember me.”

“How could I not? Your lectures at the Scientific Society on aboriginal peoples had me in a swoon for a good six months afterward.”

Lord Haley puffed up. “You flatter me. That was years ago.”

“Whatever are you doing here?” the duchess asked. “Oh, foolish me, of course I know what you are doing here. You’ve come to visit your daughter.”

“My what?” he asked.

“Oh, you! As absentminded as ever,” she said. “Sedgwick’s wife. Emmaline Haley Denford.”

His brow furrowed. “Your Grace, you must have me confused with another, for I have no daughter.”

Even as the Duchess of Cheverton’s gaze narrowed on Alex, the study door came open, with Hubert backing out. He was followed by their grandmother, who, brandishing a parasol, was in the process of beating Hubert black and blue.

“You wretched boy,” she was saying.
Whack! Whack!
“Your parents should have drowned you at birth, you unnatural whelp.”
Thwack! Whack!

“Grandmother! Please stop!” Hubert was crying out.

Emmaline was right behind the dowager, offering her encouragement and directions. “Again, my lady. For Sedgwick!”

As they came into the middle of the foyer, chaos erupted from all sides.

“A daughter?”

“There she is—Emmaline!”

“A fraud.”

“The barony is mine!”

The cacophony continued unabated, with everyone shouting at once. The only one, Alex noted, who wasn’t in the midst of it was Temple.

The marquis had taken a seat in the alcove, his long legs stuck out in front of him and his arms folded over his chest. He wore a grin that went from ear to ear.

“My word, Sedgwick,” he called out. “And I always took you for such a dull fellow. I don’t know how I could have been so mistaken.”

Sedgwick stood in the middle of the sitting room, arms crossed over his chest, feet planted like the Colossus of
Rhodes. “I will remind each and every one of you that I am the master of this house and I will have order immediately. Mark my words, I will cast out anyone who disobeys me.”

“Harrumph,” the duchess sniffed.

He shot her a withering stare and the lady closed her lips tight.

Emmaline had to imagine it was because she didn’t want to be forced out and miss one moment of this impending scandal.

“Sedgwick,” Lord Haley began, “I find it unforgivable that you used my name in such a manner. The memory of my wife…” The man faltered to a stop and his gaze fell on Emmaline. “That is to say, I regard this as an insult to my Eleanor.”

“Eleanor?” Emmaline and Elton gasped.

Haley shifted in his chair. “Yes, Eleanor.” He adjusted his spectacles and looked at Emmaline again. “Though it is rather uncanny, for she had the same fair hair and blue eyes as you do, madam.”

The duchess looked over at Emmaline as well. “By gads, Haley, you’re right. The gel is the spitting image of Eleanor.”

Emmaline felt a raft of goose bumps run down her arms. “My mother’s name was Eleanor.”

Lord Haley looked at her again and paled. “Tell me about her.”

“I don’t see that—” Emmaline said, always uncomfortable talking about her mother.

The man rose and sat down beside her. He took her hand and repeated his request. “Tell me about her.”

Emmaline bit her lips and considered her words. “We shared the same coloring, but I always thought her hair and
eyes were more vivid. And she loved flowers. Roses, especially.”

He nodded for her to continue, prompting her with another question. “Where did you live?”

“In a cottage, near Upper Alton.”

The man closed his eyes, his hands going to either side of his head. “Whose cottage?”

“It was my grandmother’s, I believe. Not that I ever knew her, for she died just before I was born.” She paused. “It was just outside the village and had a pretty stream that ran through one corner of the yard.”

Lord Haley looked away, his eyes misting. “Tell me of your mother’s character.”

Emmaline looked at him, suddenly suspicious. “She was of the highest character, but she was unwell.”

“How so?” he pressed.

“She was mad,” Elton said in a low, quiet voice that stole through the room. “But you knew that already, didn’t you, milord?”

Haley nodded, his eyes misting with tears.

“Her mother was a lunatic?” Lilith interjected. “Some surprise there.”

“Do shut up, Lady Lilith,” the Duchess of Cheverton said. “Your own mother doesn’t exactly set the Thames on fire.”

Lilith’s mouth fell open at the insult, but she said nothing further.

In the meantime, Lord Haley was staring at Emmaline with wide eyes, in disbelief. “You’re Eleanor’s child?”