The Rogue and I (21 page)

Then Garret threw up his hands. Edward collapsed into a chair and the brothers all began to bicker.

The audience all seemed to grow quiet, clearly trying to catch whatever had upset the Hart family.

Edward had yet to look in her direction which felt like a shaft to her heart. Didn’t he care?

Garret threw up his hands again then stormed out of the box. The duke and Edward both left the box behind him.

The crowd erupted into conversation.

Mrs. Barton touched her shoulder. “Be prepared. We might be asked to leave for the pleasure of his grace.”

She nodded even as her mouth dried. She’d known it would be a possibility.

The curtains to their box swung and she waited for the second most publicly shaming moment of her life.

Instead, Lord Garret Hart swaggered in and plunked himself down on a chair beside her. “Do you mind?”

The audience erupted to loud exclamations of astonishment and then the orchestra burst into the opening notes of the opera.

Emmaline stared at Garret. “What are you doing?”

“My family is insufferable,” he said.

“So are you,” she bit out.

He laughed. “My, you are blunt. What happened to the little miss I knew?”

She bit her lip then replied as evenly as she could, “She died.”

Garret’s face softened. “Did she?”

“Maidens are frequently slain by your family,” she said, forcing herself to a wit and confidence not inherent to her nature.

His face tightened. “Let’s not talk about Harriet.”

“Why? Afraid to see you’re no better than your brothers?”

“My dear, I admire my brothers very much.”

“Then you’re a fool.”

He let out a beleaguered sigh. “People keep saying that. Why do people keep saying that?”

Mrs. Barton leaned forward. “Though I am usually suspicious of the majority, in this case, you might consider they say it because it’s true.”

Garret scowled. “Mrs. Barton, I admire your talent. I always have, but your opinions are not necessary at present.”

She grinned.

Emmaline looked from Mrs. Barton to Garret. Did they know each other? It seemed they might, but it was no surprise. Men such as Garret were frequently in the company of actresses. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“Because something stinks.”

“It’s London. Of course something stinks,” Mrs. Barton quipped.

Garret gave her a silencing look.

“Yes?” Emmaline prompted.

“I always doubted you capable of what James and Edward said, but they say they saw it with their own eyes. How am I to doubt my brothers when they say such a thing? And yet. . . I keep having this sensation that something truly nefarious is afoot.”

Emmaline bit the inside of her cheek. It was tempting to tell him to go to the devil and that she wished nothing to do with him. But she couldn’t. Because even though she was perfectly fine with abandoning the
ton
, she hated that what everyone thought about her was a lie.

“What are you suggesting?” she ventured.

“I’m going to ask you directly.” Lord Garret leaned forward, his eyes steely. “Did you betray my brother?”

She drew in a shaking breath. “No, my lord. If anyone has been betrayed, it is I.”

Garret’s face settled into a dark mask. “I’m sorry for it.”

Tears stung her eyes at his admission and she blinked rapidly lest she lose her composure. “Thank you.”

“I think we need to do something about it,” he said.

Emmaline let out an exasperated laugh. “What?”

“Oh. . . I have an idea. And I think Mrs. Barton here will be able to help.”

Emmaline stared and wondered why in God’s name she’d allow Garret to help her. And yet, she would. “I’m listening, my lord.”

Garret nodded. “Good. Now, let’s prove what fools the Harts, including myself, are.”

***

H
arriet entered the breakfast room, her head pounding. She’d had one too many glasses of champagne at last night’s soiree. She’d needed every single one. After all, everyone had congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials. Garret had not been in attendance.

“Good morning!”

Harriet staggered then spotted Meredith. “Good morning,” she replied though with far less enthusiasm. She needed tea. Pots of it. “What are you doing here?”

Meredith masticated a piece of toast. “That’s a fine greeting! Aunt Gertrude asked me. I arrived not long ago, absolutely famished.”

Harriet nodded and managed to sit and clutch a porcelain cup. “That’s nice.”

“Isn’t it? I haven’t been to town in ages. Simply ages. And I was so jealous of you and Emmaline getting away from the country.”

Jealous? Was Meredith truly that silly? How could she be jealous of her cousins when they had been positively put through the mill of gossip and cruelty. She eyed Meredith but Meredith did seem in earnest. It suddenly struck her that she hadn’t seen Meredith since the wedding. Even then it had been quite an odd interchange.

Then again, Meredith was odd. No doubt it was just her aching head which made her so peevish with her cousin. “Have you seen Emmaline?”

Meredith grew quiet then she shook her head.

“Meredith? Is everything all right?”

Meredith took another huge bite of toast and nodded emphatically, her thick curls bobbing.

Harriet narrowed her eyes. “Meredith?”

Meredith’s eyes widened and suddenly tears were filling her eyes. “Oh, Harriet.”

“What is it Meredith?”

“I. . . I. . .” Meredith began to tremble.

Harriet put her cup down, her stomach sinking. Meredith, who usually looked completely at peace with the world, looked like she was about to go to pieces.

“I need to tell someone. I thought I could keep it a secret, but I can’t. I thought I could be terribly, terribly selfish but. . . You see, I’ve done something truly horrible.”

Harriet stood and took the seat next to Meredith’s. She took her cousin’o hand. “Then you best tell me.”

“I can’t keep it hidden. I was so ashamed, you see. I went straight home after the wedding so I wouldn’t have to see Emmaline.”

“Why are you ashamed?”

Meredith swallowed. “Because. . . His Grace and Edward did see someone with Lord Conrade.”

Harriet forced herself to take slow breaths. A tide of anger was rising in her, but not at Meredith. “They did?”

Meredith nodded. “Me.”

“But it was in Emmaline’s room.”

“Lord Conrade wanted to meet me there. He said it would be fun. He was nice to me. Not many people are nice to me.”

Harriet fought a grimace. They’d always treated Meredith as if she were a bit silly. She’d never realized the effect it had on her cousin. Harriet pulled Meredith closer and gently touched her face. “I need you to tell me everything Meredith.”

“You’ll hate me,” Meredith whispered, her face turning red with her tears.

“Never,” Harriet said. She’d known enough hate to let it rule her heart now. She was done with hate and she wasn’t going to let those who seemed to glory in it get away with it any more.

The door opened and Emmaline entered. Her usually oh so kind eyes narrowed. “Hello Meredith.”

Harriet felt her stomach flip. Emmaline had changed a great deal in the last weeks. Was she losing her kindness too? For somehow, it seemed that the idea had occurred to Emmaline that Meredith had been the one in her bed. It was the only explanation for Emmaline’s coolness.

Meredith jumped from the chair and ran across the room.

It seemed like the girl was about to fling herself down before Emmaline’s feet.

Emmaline grabbed Meredith’s arms. “Don’t, Merry.”

The use of her childhood nickname stopped Meredith. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Were you trying to make Edward think you were me?” Emmaline asked softly.

Meredith blinked. “What?”

“Oh Merry, you are as much a victim in this as I. There’s not a cruel bone in your body. A thoughtless one perhaps, but I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

More tears streamed down Meredith’s face. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. I should have said something right there in the church but I felt. . . Frozen.”

Emmaline hugged Meredith but she gazed over the girl’s shoulder.

Harriet met her gaze. There was something fierce in her cousin. Something she’d never seen before and it was really quite thrilling.

“I think it’s time we ladies had our vengeance, don’t you?” Emmaline asked.

A smile tilted Harriet’s lips. “I do indeed, cousin. I do indeed.”

Chapter 23

James stared at the young serving man standing across from him and nearly cast up his accounts on his desk. His poor, beautiful desk. A desk which had been the symbol and anchor of everything he stood for as a duke. It was solid, strong, polished to perfection, and always in perfect order. . . until as of late. Garret had spewed coffee on it and now it was all James could do not to be sick upon it.

James drew in a steadying breath and braced his hands against the polished wood. “Could you please repeat what you’ve said?”

The young man who was barely more than a boy bit down on his lip, worrying a piece of worn skin. Clearly, his conscience had been bothering him for quite a while because said lip was bleeding. The servant looked like he hadn’t been sleeping very well either, what with the plum dark shadows beneath his brown eyes and his tousled brown hair. He glanced down at his feet and shifted uncomfortably like a student before the headmaster. “Your grace. . . I can’t bear to say it again. . .”

“What was your name?” James intervened gently. It had taken a great deal of courage for the man to show up to a duke’s home with such dire tidings.

“T-thomas, your grace,” the young man mumbled.

“Thomas, you work for Lord Conrade?” James prompted.

“I do.”

“He hasn’t fired you? You’re not seeking any sort of revenge?”

“No, your grace,” Thomas said, astonishment pitching his tone upward. “He hasn’t fired me. I’m a good worker. Never cause for complaint. But if he finds out I’m here, he will.”

James had had a troubling report recently. His own secretary had come to him last evening with news that a rather nasty piece of gossip was going around the bath houses. Lord Conrade and Mr. Forthryte, John, had had one over on the Duke of Huntsdown. The stews were full of it.

The secretary had then, to both of their shock, received a visit from this young man.

“Rumors are already about your grace, so he won’t trace this back to me. It’s why I decided I had to come. I mean. . . If people are already beginning to whisper. . .”

“No doubt your master and my brother have been bragging.” James wiped a hand over his face. “You’re Lord Conrade’s manservant?”

Thomas nodded.

“Tell me everything you know. You’re doing the right thing, Thomas.”

“I know it, your grace. That poor lady.” Thomas shook his head woefully. “I saw her. Before the wedding. So nice and beautiful. And they dragged her through the mud.”

James ground his teeth before forcing himself to say, “Correction Thomas.”

“I beg your pardon, your grace?”

“Lord Conrade and my brother it seems arranged the plot. . . but it is I who dragged the young lady through the mud. . . If your story is true.”

“It is! I swear.”

“Then tell it in detail. Slowly.”

James sat. His legs felt weak. It didn’t matter that he walked five miles a day no matter the weather. His world was shaking around him.

It seemed he may have made a mistake. A mistake it was almost certainly too late to fix.

***

S
he
was in the next room.

He hadn’t seen her since that night she’d left him in the ballroom on the arm of the Earl of Carlyle. . . Her betrothed.

God that word still stuck in his throat. If there had been a way for him to complete his and Emmaline’s plan without her, he would have. But she was necessary and somehow, he would manage to be in the same room as she without railing against the gods or her for the whole nonsense with Carlyle.

The nearness of her was killing him. He had no idea how he’d make it through the night. Soon they’d even be in the same damned room and instead of his need for her dissipating as he’d hoped it would do, it had had only seemed to intensify with every passing hour since he’d walked out of her uncle’s house in the country.

His self-control was fraying.

Despite his conflicted desires, the rather large drawing room on the first floor of his townhouse was ready. He and Mrs. Barton had arranged the whole thing, the ladies having arrived through the back an hour ago.

Edward was a mess, of course. There was nothing for it. It was his brother’s general state these days. In fact, Edward’s mess helped Garret stay in semi-control whilst Harriet was so close. After all, someone had to keep his brother semi-sober.

Garret patted Edward’s shoulder. He looked like a kicked basset hound. “I’m glad you decided to come over.”

Edward took a sip from a flask he’d had hidden in his coat. “You
dragged
me here.”

“Yes, well. . .” Garret cleared his throat, eying the flask and wondering if he could take it. “I trust you’re going to feel a good deal better after this evening.”

“Do you?” Edward let out a disgusted sound. “I don’t see how.”

Garret rubbed his hands together and looked towards the door.

James’ voice came from the foyer. . . accompanied by John’s.

The two were bickering.

Garret frowned. How the hell had James got ahold of that slippery creature? And John was not part of the plan for this evening. In fact, John could throw everything to hell which, of course, was what John usually did.

Mrs. Barton peaked out from behind the door on the opposite side of the room to him and waved.

Edward staggered. “I say, is that an actress?”

Garret gestured for Mrs. Barton to get back more emphatically than he intended. “Yes, Edward.”

“Are we having a private performance? I’m in no mood for a play. Unless,” Edward sighed. “A tragedy might be just the thing.”

“One could argue it’s a tragedy.” Garret was tempted to smile, but didn’t dare. Despite John’s arrival, Garret was hopeful for the turn of events, but he wasn’t willing to bet that this all would turn out swimmingly just yet. “There is supposedly a happy ending to this event.”