The Daughter of an Earl (16 page)

“If you insist.” Drummond bowed to Julia, and turned to Emily. “I believe we have been summarily dismissed. Shall we?”

She cursed Julia's sudden penchant for matchmaking, because short of giving Drummond the cut direct, and then later having to explain to Julia her reasons for doing so, Emily was left with no choice. “We will not venture far. Just down this path.” She still had no intention of disappearing with the man, and it was best to make that clear at the onset.

It was early evening, that indecipherable time of twilight that defined the breach between daylight and darkness. Tall lanterns were interspersed along paths leading into the gardens, like patient sentries poised to illuminate the paths when the final light faded.

She fell into step beside Drummond, careful to keep a safe distance between them. She did want to hear what he had to impart, but refused to pay a price for it.

“The last two times we crossed paths, Mr. Curtis interrupted us. I am relieved to find you alone,” Drummond said. “I understand he is Bedford's former business partner and godfather to his twins, but speaking as a friend who has borne witness to his boorish behavior, not once, but twice, it might be wise to limit your exposure to his sort. I only presume to caution you because you have been absent from society for some time. You forget that one is judged not only by their character but by the company one keeps. I would hate for you to be viewed poorly due to your naïveté,” he finished, his tone apologetic.

What a pompous arse.

Bristling, she opened her mouth to scathingly inform him that as an earl's daughter, she was well versed in knowing whose company to avoid, but then paused. If she wished him to speak openly with her, she should not begin their conversation with a chastisement. With difficulty, she bit back her retort. “I will keep that in mind.”

As they continued, he offered up the usual platitudes on the balmy evening, following with tidbits on shared acquaintances. She listened with half an ear, hoping he broached the subject soon before her patience wore thin.

“I am glad we are alone because I have something important to discuss with you.” He paused beside a marble statue of some Grecian robed personage, hands raised in a plaintive plea.

“And what is that?” She braced herself, wary of his seeking to rekindle the sentiments he had proclaimed in their last encounter. She glanced back to ensure Julia was within calling distance, and took another step back from Drummond.

“I paid a call on Viscount Weston and his lovely sister a couple of weeks ago, and he mentioned your visit.”

“Yes, I saw the viscount and his mother just before I left for town.”

“That is kind of you to stay on good terms with the family.”

Why would I not?
she wondered, but held her silence.

“The viscount mentioned some documents he had turned over to me. These papers belonged to Jason and concerned unfinished business matters from his time in Calcutta.”

“Oh?” She kept a neutral tone, while silently cursing Tristan for blundering into areas she had asked him to stay out of. She had no patience for another of Drummond's lectures on keeping her pretty little head out of men's business matters.

“Those papers were placed in my care shortly after Jason's death, and over the years, Tristan has never mentioned them. You must understand that I found his interest, coming on the heels of your own inquiry about Jason's work, well, curious at the very least, but more so, alarming.”

Her eyes widened, and she feigned surprise. “Do you think the viscount has come upon the same information that I did in rereading Jason's letters? Could he possibly—?”

“Certainly not!” Drummond snapped, but hastened to gentle his tone. “Lady Emily, the viscount did not discover discrepancies in accounts or any other evidence of malfeasance because he did not review the papers. He left that for me to do because I am familiar with Jason's work. Mind you, had the viscount studied the documents, he would not have found anything of interest because as I told you once before, there is nothing to discover.”

She frowned. “Are you sure? Because in Jason's letters—”

“For God's sake, you cannot believe anything Jason wrote!”

Startled, she studied his flushed features, the barely controlled anger, and wondered at his words.

Drummond pressed a gloved hand to his brow. Lowering it, he paced away, but then turned back with a sigh. “You must understand, I had my reasons for trying to deter you from your course when you first approached me for assistance. I did not want to cause you pain, pain that I know what I am about to confide will inflict, but you leave me no choice.”

A chill suffused her. “Please, if it involves Jason, whatever it entails, as his fiancée, I have a right to know.”

“Jason was not himself toward the last few months of his life. I do not know if you know this, but his work for the East India Company involved overseeing the opium trade.” He reiterated Caleb Little's explanations of Jason's work. “It is not uncommon for, well . . . It is a difficult posting in that infernal country, so it is not unusual for men so far from home and separated from friends, family, and those they love . . . to suffer loneliness. To alleviate their despair, some seek an escape, or rather, find solace elsewhere,” he said softly.

She had to moisten her lips before she could speak, feeling the blood drain from her face.
This was Jason's friend.
“I do not understand. What are you saying?”

“Lady Emily, a lot of men posted over there sought their comfort through the oblivion provided in smoking opium. And for some unfortunates who partake, they become dependent upon the drug.”

She fought to draw deep and steady breaths. She wrapped her arms around her waist and clung tight. If she did not, she would lunge at the lying, deceitful bastard and gouge his eyes out.

A noose was too good for this man. He deserved to be drawn and quartered. She swallowed the pain his words inflicted. “So like one addicted to laudanum, Jason was . . . delusional? Is that why I should not heed anything he wrote in his letters? Is that what you are saying?” she pressed.

Drummond held up his hands plaintively. “I am sorry. I did not want to tell you this, but I worry that you are digging into matters best left buried. Let us forget I said anything. Please, as your friend, allow me to leave you with the memory you have of Jason and not tarnish it with things we cannot change.”

“I am trying to understand. Please, help me to do so. Laudanum is readily available here. People take it all the time. It is prescribed as a remedy for sniffles. I do not understand how—?”

“Laudanum is but a tincture of opium,” he interrupted impatiently. “Opium in its purest form is far more dangerous. If consumed in large qualities, one sees things that are not there. Imagines things that are not real. Those who fall under its spell . . . well, it is not a pretty picture, so let us not finish drawing this out. Jason would not want you going down this path. Let him rest in peace.”

He reached out to her, but she retreated, evading his treacherous touch. “Yes. I now understand why you did not want me to pursue my course.”

Because it would implicate you.

Had Jason identified Drummond as the embezzler? It would explain why Marsh had said Jason's findings had disturbed him. To learn a trusted friend and colleague was
the culprit would be upsetting indeed. It was easy to jump from lying bastard to embezzling thief—but from there to murderer?

She pressed her hand to her temple. Uncertainty and confusion battled within her, making it difficult to think clearly. Not with Drummond standing so close, hovering over her, feigning solicitous concern.

But she had one more question, and once they were answered, she would be quite finished with the man. “His clerk, Mr. Marsh, and his valet, Winfred, must have been aware of Jason's . . . ah, his affliction and chose to keep quiet. I suppose I should be grateful for that. It is a small comfort that his reputation was protected.”

Drummond did not immediately respond, but something hard flared in his eyes.

“What? What is it?”

“Allow me to give you another warning. Stay away from Marsh. The man is no good.” He paused, as if battling with himself how much to confide. “Just
who
do you think helped Jason to procure the opium? To prepare it? Helped to keep his secret?”

“Mr. Marsh?” She remembered the sadness, the pain, and the bitterness that darkened the frail man's eyes. Jason was not the only one deserving justice.

“Marsh,” Drummond confirmed, spitting out the name as if it was toxic.

“And Winfred?”

Drummond waved a hand dismissively. “He always had his head buried in his books. Never understood why Jason taught that boy to read, because when he finally lifted his eyes to notice what was going on around him, it was too late.”

“I see,” she murmured.
Lies. Malicious, slanderous lies.
Winfred had been ready with a bandage before Jason cut himself. Yes, he loved his books, but he had cared for Jason more. His teaching Winfred to read had sealed the young man's devotion. She recalled the tears Winfred had manfully
fought to stifle, and the agonizing grief they shared over the loss of a man they had both loved. “I understand.” All too well.

“I hope you do. Lady Emily, I tell you these things because I am your friend. But . . .” He stepped closer to her, his eyes locked on hers.

She again retreated, wary of the warmth in his gaze.

“But you must know I continue to hope that someday, we can be something more to each other.”

She nearly shuddered. “Please. I have explained to you—”

“Yes, you have. You loved Jason. But in light of what you have now learned, you must understand that the man I knew those final months was no longer the man you loved. He never should have left you. I would not have done so.”

Good lord. The man was mad. There could never have been anything between them before. Now all she wanted from this man was his head in a noose.

She could not hang him for his slanderous words, but she would find the evidence to drag him before the magistrate on charges of embezzlement. And perhaps . . . just perhaps murder.

“Mr. Drummond, it is too soon. I have much to think about, and need the time to do so.”

“Of course. Forgive me, but you must understand that I have waited a long time, and—”

“Patience is an admirable virtue, and I appreciate yours.” She sounded like a veritable prig, but did not care. “Now we must find Julia and return,” she said, raising her voice as she evoked her sister's name.

“Emily—”

“There you are. I was on my way to join you, when look who found me,” Julia said, materializing before them as if she had been awaiting Emily's call, which thankfully, she had been.

Emily followed her sister's gaze to the group standing behind her, and froze as her eyes locked on one man.

Brett
.

She really needed to get him that damn warning bell.

When she met his eyes, they blazed with an icy blue rage, chilling her to the bone. She forgot her nerves and every thought in her head but one—she had made a grave mistake. She swallowed, fearing what price she would be paying for it.

T
HEY
had come full circle. Brett gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out at Emily as he fell into step beside her. Once the introductions were finished, Drummond had made his excuses and slithered away like the snake he was, but not before tossing Brett a triumphant look.

What the bloody hell had he meant by it?

Brett vowed to find out, even if he had to shake the information out of Emily. She
had promised
him. Had given her word that she would not investigate matters alone. That should include clandestine meetings with bastards like Drummond, a would-be embezzler, murderer, or just plain slithering snake. Something twisted in his gut. The betrayal was all too familiar.

Like a hapless fly stuck in a web, he wondered if he had once again become entangled with a woman he could not trust.

“Stop scowling. You will scare the ladies—not that you do not already do so,” Melody grumbled. “I mean really, it
was not like I had disappeared into the shrubbery with the man. We had gone for refreshments in full view—”

“Yes, Melody, so
you
have explained,” Brett said with strained patience. “And
I
have explained, while I trust you, that does not mean I trust every gentleman here.” He gave Emily a pointed look. “I warned you about the wolves. You cannot let fashionable dress and a posh accent deceive you.”

Emily flushed and her jaw tightened, but she made no response.

Melody sputtered out a laugh. “Please. Lord Phillips is harmless,” she quipped to Miranda beneath her breath, “but I wouldn't mind him nibbling on my . . . neck.”

Brett whirled on Melody. “I heard that!”

“Oh, for goodness' sake. There is something sour in your punch. Perhaps you should try the champagne. I hear it does wonders in lightening one's mood.”

“Leave him alone,” Miranda said, intervening. “Abandoned to his own company, he will eventually annoy even himself. Maybe you can cheer him up, Lady Emily. Brett's mood always improves when conversing with a beautiful woman. At the very least, it will force him to be civil.” Miranda ignored Brett's growl and caught Melody's arm to draw her ahead to join Julia and Daniel.

The silence stretched taut as he and Emily trailed the group, but Brett would be damned if he would break it.
She
owed
him
an explanation.

They approached the terrace where more couples had congregated outside to savor the balmy temperatures. Snippets of conversation and laughter drifted over them, while red-coated footmen balanced trays with tall, crystal flutes.

“Melody is right. Champagne is needed,” Emily said and gestured to a footman.

“A drink will not improve my mood—”

“No? Well, perhaps it will soothe mine.” She thanked the footman as she collected a brimming glass of champagne. “But I doubt it.”

For the first time, he noted the pallor and the shadows
clouding her eyes. A slight tremor shook her hand, and she spilled some champagne before she steadied the glass and brought it to her lips. Whatever Drummond had confided, it had shaken her. Some of his anger shifted from Emily and onto the bastard.

He itched to curl his hands around the whoreson's slimy neck and squeeze.

Emily finished a sip, and met Brett's gaze. “I understand you are upset to find me with Drummond, but I encountered him with Julia, and I could not rudely dismiss him when he asked to have a word with me. Julia was nearby at all times and it was in a public venue. You must understand that after your behavior toward him at Lakeview Manor and again at Dayton's—”

“
My
behavior?” he scoffed. “You cannot be serious! You are taking me to task for
my
behavior? After the way that man was mauling—”

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed in warning, casting a furtive look around.

He swore as he noted the curious glances directed their way. “Wait a few minutes and then follow me.” Without obtaining her consent, he strode from the terrace. He took the steps to the lawns at a brisk pace, then turned down a path that led into a hedge maze adjacent to the main yard.

While not as elaborate as the maze at Hampton Court, it turned and twisted in an elaborate spiral. Luminous mythological statues carved out of white marble were placed in strategic pockets throughout the maze. Flickering torches interspersed in the yews helped to light the dirt paths as daylight waned.

During one of his school holidays, Brett had spent a drunken evening stumbling around the maze with Sutton's son, Daniel, and Drew. It gave him the advantage over other couples seeking a clandestine refuge within its natural walls. He knew the location of most of its secret haunts.

He stood just inside the entrance, waiting for Emily. When she entered the shadowy enclosure and cast a wary glance over her shoulder, he caught her arm. She swallowed
her cry upon recognizing him, and did not resist his towing her along, moving quickly lest they be seen together. “It took you long enough,” he muttered.

“Will you stop! I cannot just disappear. Julia would worry. I had to let her know my whereabouts. I told her I was going to view a new statue with you and Lady Eloise. But where, pray tell,
am
I going? Are you mad?” she hissed at his back.

“Undoubtedly.” But one could not very well discuss murder and embezzlement amidst a prying audience.

It was a dangerous game they played, but hearing the giggles, rustles, and twitters emerging from the maze, they were not the only ones who dared to risk scandalous consequences. “Heed your own advice and keep your voice down.” He neared a statue of a goddess in a flowing Grecian gown, wearing a formidable helmet and holding a staff. She reminded him of the heroic Athena, and he found it fitting that they seek refuge with her. He pulled Emily around the statue and into the intimate space carved out behind her. “Who is Lady Eloise?”

“The only woman nearby whom I recognized,” she said impatiently as she eyed the area, and then arched a delicate brow. “This definitely crosses the boundaries of complicated and moves deep into dangerous.”

He shrugged. “As I said, we did that when you visited my bedchamber. Then again when you ducked into the shrubbery with that—”

Emily tossed her champagne into his face. “You go too far!”

He snatched his handkerchief and furiously swiped at his face. Blinking, he caught a flash of lavender as Emily moved to sweep around him. He bit off a curse, grabbed her arm, and hauled her back. He crushed her close, cinching his arms around her slim waist. The impact of her soft body against his had every thought draining from his head—but one.

Her breath hitched and her eyes dropped to his lips, and then he closed his mouth over hers. The touch was like striking a match to tinder. The mixture of tension, rage, and frustration that had simmered within him burst into flames.

Her lips were velvet soft and melded to his. She tasted of champagne and Emily and he practically inhaled her. He took and took some more, desire coursing through him.

Her glass slipped from her hand and dropped unheeded to the ground as she curled her arms around his neck and arched her body into his. A moan escaped her, and she slid her fingers into his hair as her tongue parried with his.

He savored the feel of her breasts crushed to his chest, the warmth of her body seeping into his. Holding her settled his temper far better than the richest champagne. Their ragged breaths mingled as he kissed a pink cheek before returning to claim her mouth.

A distant cough snapped him back to his senses. Horrified, he released her and stepped away. Christ.

He may not trust her, but by God, he wanted her. His body cried out in protest, his loins aching. While he yearned to snatch her back into his arms, he refused to let desire lead him astray again. He shook his head to clear it of its lust-driven haze and, with unsteady hands, he returned his handkerchief to his jacket pocket.

Emily regarded him warily, her breathing ragged.

He straightened. “You gave me your word, and you broke it. How am I to trust you—?”

“
You
talk of trust? You wrote to Daniel and Julia behind my back. After I asked you to keep them out of things. How am
I
to trust
you
?”

“That is not the same thing! I told you, I made a mistake. I tried—”

“As did I . . . of sorts.”

That gave him pause. Against his will, his lips twitched. “
Of sorts
?”

She tossed up her hands in exasperation. “As damning as it appears, I had no desire to speak with Drummond alone. But as I have explained, I could not very well refuse
his
request to speak to me—not without making explanations to Julia that I am not ready to make. And truthfully, he would not have spoken as freely as he did with your black scowl accompanying me. Lawrence Drummond thinks you are rude
and boorish, and has warned me to avoid your company lest I be judged no better. In light of your recent behavior, he may be right.”

“
My
behavior? Again, it is
you
who disappeared—”

“Will you stop?” she hissed. “A few kisses shared with you does not make me a light skirt that couples in the shrubbery with every man that I meet. You are the
only
man I have kissed, let alone looked at, since Jason.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do not make me regret it.”

The warning in her tone distracted him, and it took a moment for the import of her words to hit him. Stunned, his lips parted and he studied her jutting chin. Damned if her confession did not take another bite out of his anger, and like a ship cut free of its mooring, he floundered.

And then he blinked. Damn, she was good. “You are trying to distract me. The fact is that you met with Drummond when I expressly asked you not to—”

“I did not go alone, Julia accompanied me. I had but to say her name, and she would be at my side.”

She had a point, despite his reluctance to concede it. She was tying him up in knots, making him want to thrash her one minute and kiss her the next. It was little wonder he could not think straight. He blew out a breath. “Fine, but that does not mean I have to like it,” he grumbled.

“I do not expect you to.”

He heard the amusement in her voice, and sighed. “So what did he have to say for himself? Did you learn anything new?”

“Oh, yes,” she said and lifted her chin to stare him straight in the eye. “I learned you were right about Lawrence Drummond. I learned that he is a lying, traitorous bastard, and I intend to find the evidence that implicates him in embezzlement and—” She hesitated briefly before adding, “Perhaps murder.”

His eyes widened. Whatever the hell Drummond had said, it had been damning. “Is that all?” He couldn't suppress his wry smile. “You plan to accuse a friend of your fiancé, who has family connections to the Earl of Dayton, of
slander, embezzlement, and potentially cold-blooded murder. Is that your plan?”

“It is.” She frowned. “I am simply confirming all you believed, while I defended the man. Are you having second thoughts? Because I assure you—”

“No. I have no doubt the man is a lying bastard. And if guilty of these charges, I hope he hangs until he rots. But hoping and having it happen are two different things. Until we procure evidence implicating him in anything, we have nothing.”

“I will find it.” She fisted her hands at her sides. “He dared to tell me that Jason was an opium addict. That Jason was lonely and sought solace in the drug. Drummond claimed to be his
friend
.” She sneered the word. “No friend of Jason's would utter such slanderous lies.”

Damning indeed.
A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes, sparkling in the twilight. He enfolded her in his arms, feeling the tension vibrating in her rigid frame before she relaxed against him. He pressed his cheek to the crown of her hair and spoke softly. “I am so very sorry, Emily. Such betrayal is unpardonable.”

They stood in silence, and he breathed her in, marveling at her determination and resolve.

She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, blinking back her tears. “He will pay. He will not get away with it. For Jason's sake, I will not give up.”

He had no doubts that Emily would keep this vow on behalf of Jason, and he almost pitied Drummond.

He stared into her fierce expression and admiration swamped him. That was what he sought from a woman.
Unwavering loyalty
. Faith forged in steel and that withstood friends, foes, or any other force that sought to bend or break it. Something sliced through him. The long-taloned claws of a green-eyed monster.

Jealousy.

He was jealous of a man dead and buried nearly four years. It was a sobering thought. Jason had been a lucky man, and Brett was merely his substitute. A warm body to
warm a grieving heart. A partner to assist in a murder investigation.