To Love a Tormented Earl - Bridget Barton Page 0,16

cast her eyes down and gave a nod, then bid his friend the lieutenant adieu as well.

As Emilia fell into step beside Alice, the latter waited until they had passed back through the gate to lean in and ask, 'What on earth was that all about? Your response to what?'

Loath to break the earl’s confidence, Emilia cast about for what to say. 'It—Tis for a bit of copying,' she said, and stifled a wince at her own weak lie.

'Copying?' Alice echoed incredulously. 'Music?'

'Yes,' Emilia said, though her discomfort at her dishonesty was growing. 'He knows Dassel. I—I am uncertain whether I can trust him.'

Which was true, Emilia realized.

'Is that why you seemed to recognize him?' Alice asked.

Emilia nodded. They had to wait as several carriages rolled past down the wide lane they were crossing. Emilia’s thoughts were in confusion. Maximilian Emery had deceived her—deceived everyone, including his own relations, one assumed—with the false story of his death in Portugal. How could she possibly believe anything he said to her now?

And why would anyone blackmail him, she wondered? Why would he pay them any mind, if they did? What if he was actually guilty of something?

What if helping him was dangerous?

Even as these questions whirled through her mind like so many leaves on the wind, Emilia was aware that beneath them, she yearned to agree to assist him.

If the earl had been wronged, she should do her part to put things right.

Alice tugged on her arm as a break in the oncoming line of carriages allowed them to cross to a smaller path on the other side of the wide alley. Emilia allowed her companion to guide her.

‘Twas more than a matter of seeing justice served, she confessed to herself. She wanted to help the earl because...because he was Maximilian Emery. And he was alive, after all this time.

The emotions that wrought in her—Emilia could not deny them. Even if they were the foolish emotions of a nineteen-year-old chit who should never have imagined anything could come of her acquaintance with an earl. But that nineteen-year-old had grieved terribly for the lost earl, who she had once admired very much.

She was older now, and she might have said she was wiser, as well, except for her unreasonable need to agree to the earl’s request. Her better sense told her ‘twas folly to become embroiled in the obvious trouble he was in. It will most certainly lead to scandal, she told herself sternly.

Alice stopped on the other side of the lane and seemed arrested by the sight of something on the side they had just left. Emilia followed her gaze.

The earl—Mr. Milton, Emilia reminded herself—and his companion had emerged onto that side but they had come to a halt because a phaeton had rolled up to them.

Emilia’s heart was in her throat as she watched. Had the earl been recognized?

Chapter 6

'It’s Miss Augusta Emma d’Este again,' Alice said, gazing across the gravelled lane where a phaeton had stopped next to Maximilian Emery and his companion, Lieutenant Roberts.

Emilia blinked and then she, too, saw the young Miss d’Este leaning out to speak to the gentlemen.

With the noise of dogs, children, and carriages, Emilia expected to only catch snippets of what the lady said, but Miss d’Este herself had no compunction about speaking loudly.

'Is that beast yours?' she cried, and Emilia assumed she meant the curly-haired brown dog the lieutenant had on a lead.

With a start, she recognized the animal. It was the one that knocked over Lady Charlotte.

Miss d’Este continued, 'What a terrible menace he is!'

Although the young lady’s words might have conveyed accusation, her tone betrayed a more playful mood.

Emilia couldn’t hear what the earl answered, but Miss d’Este leaned out further, displaying the low cut of her décolleté such that Emilia found it rather shocking. 'That horrid animal soiled my friend’s lovely dress, you know!' the young lady exclaimed.

With a vague sense that Alice had started to leave, Emilia stepped in the opposite direction, out into the lane, wishing she could approach and better hear the earl’s response to this accusation.

'Emilia?' Alice said, ruining any chance of that as she spoke over the earl.

But then Emilia saw him laugh.

It illuminated his handsome, angular visage.

Emilia’s heart plummeted within her. Miss d’Este had made Lord Ceastre laugh. It really was all too much.

'Oh, Alice, take me home,' she said, feeling a sudden weight of dreariness settle over her.

Her friend slipped her arm through Emilia’s and guided her, tutting quietly as they walked to