by Allison Lane
Fay allowed a smile onto her face as they rounded the last corner. It was even better than she had planned. The couple in the shadowed depths of the folly was engaged in a passionate embrace.
“My goodness!” gasped Lady Clifford. “Emily!” The man lifted his head and turned, instinctively protecting the girl from view.
Fay heard nothing else as she teetered on the verge of swooning. Damn Drew! He couldn’t even wait until after the wedding to establish that bitch as his mistress.
* * * *
Drew turned at the sound of Lady Clifford’s voice, fury and guilt driving passion into hiding. The audience couldn’t have been worse. Lady Clifford was already hysterical over Emily’s indiscretion. And Fay seemed on the verge of murder. Whatever rumors Emily had heard must be true. Rage twisted Fay’s face. Beyond being unscrupulous, she was evil.
“Horrid, spiteful girl,” sobbed Lady Clifford. “What have I done to deserve so vulgar a daughter? No gentleman will offer for you now.”
“Quiet,” he ordered, glaring into her face. “Are you so unnatural a mother that you would condemn your own daughter without a hearing?”
“Unnatural!” she sputtered wildly.
“Exactly. You ignore anything you don’t wish to hear and readily manipulate her to achieve your own ends. I found her crying because you had unjustly accused her of improprieties she had not committed and had criticized behavior accepted by much of society. I admit that in comforting her distress I overstepped the bounds myself, and I must apologize for that. You can be sure that no one will hear of the incident from my lips. Or from those of Miss Raeburn,” he added, turning such a savage look on Fay that she whitened.
“I won’t let you take the blame for this, Drew,” swore Emily, straightening to face her mother. She had managed to smooth her gown – at least to a casual eye – but her hair was tumbling down on one side. Yet her obvious embarrassment couldn’t hold a candle to the glare she directed at Fay, furious that the woman would look askance at anything she and Drew might do. “That kiss was hardly one-sided. And I can’t consider it a crime.”
Damnation! Drew nearly cringed. Emily’s words made things worse – as she would have known if she’d stopped to think. Society expected both ignorance and absolute innocence of its daughters. Not even amnesia had driven that knowledge from her mind, but his attentions must have scrambled her wits.
Lady Clifford abandoned hysterics, reading such a lecture that Emily appeared ready to lash back. He felt the same urge, but he couldn’t intervene again. Fay grabbed his arm and jerked him aside.
He deliberately removed her claws from his sleeve and smoothed the fabric, flicking aside a mote of dust. It was time she learned that he was in charge. Once she accepted that his desire was all that mattered, jilting her would be easier.
“That girl leaves now,” she hissed, further inflamed by his disdain. “You won’t make me a laughingstock by entertaining your whore in your home.”
“Your vulgarity worsens every day,” he growled in return. “I’ve an urge to end this farce this minute.”
“Farce?” she squeaked.
“Quite. I find the prospect of acquiring a Billingsgate fishwife more onerous than distressing a man who will be dead before many months have passed.”
“Try it and I’ll see you disinherited,” she vowed, curling her hands into fists. “Or under sentence of death for murder.”
Before he could respond, Frederick emerged from the trees and glared. “What is the meaning of this contretemps?” he demanded of Fay.
“Nothing that need concern you,” she replied. “Lady Emily has merely shown her true colors to the world.”
“Your doing, I suppose.” His anger was obvious.
“What does that mean?” demanded Drew.
“She tried to talk me into eloping with Lady Emily two days ago. I should have suspected some plot when she accepted my refusal without argument. Today I received a note, purportedly from Lady Anne, asking that I meet her here at four o’clock. Knowing that she had not sent it, I stopped at the Hall to warn you of Fay’s schemes. Not until I was sure the trap no longer awaited me, did I come here to confront her.”
Lady Clifford abandoned Emily and began berating Fay for her lack of breeding.
Drew smiled, then turned back to Frederick. “I will settle with her in a moment. Perhaps you can arrange for someone to accompany her from now on. Someone besides Miss Testmark,” he added.
Frederick nodded, then joined Lady Clifford in denouncing his cousin.
As soon as their attention was fully engaged, he slipped to the back of the folly where Emily had all but collapsed. “Buck up, my love,” he whispered, reaching back to fasten her gown. She had been unable to manage one of the tapes. “I wish I could spare you the scolding you’re in for, but this certainly settles the question of my betrothal. I’ll search for evidence that will keep her quiet, but regardless of my success, nothing will induce me to wed the witch.”
She nodded. “You’d best consider how to break the news to your father.”
“If I can’t silence her, I will let my word stand against hers. I’ll not drag Randolph’s character through the mud.”
“Of course you won’t. But you haven’t much time. The wedding is less than a month off. You must notify the guests before they set out.”
“I know.”
The argument was winding down, making further conversation impossible. Frederick was soothing Lady Clifford, giving Drew a chance to again draw Fay aside.
“I’ll not tolerate any more of your mischief,” he said coldly. “If you do or say anything, no matter how insignificant, that calls Lady Emily’s character or behavior into question, you can consider our betrothal at an end. No more chances, Fay.”
“But—”
“I mean it, Fay,” he interrupted. “Father’s life is near an end. When I compare a few months of disillusion for him to a lifetime of having to endure your spite, disillusion seems the better bargain. Don’t force the choice on me. You’ll lose. And as to criminal charges, living in seclusion has distorted your understanding of society. There isn’t a court in the land that would accept your word over mine.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but Frederick grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Lady Clifford and Emily had already departed.
Drew sat down and dropped his head into his hands. Why had he kissed her? It had happened less than five minutes after his self-reminder to stay in control. The fact that it was far from their first kiss was irrelevant. He was morally tied to another. Future intent could not excuse ignoring his betrothal. And even if he could twist logic far enough to condone the kiss, making love in the folly was idiotic. The place was far too public, as events had proved. Her reputation would suffer.
Only a cad would lose his control so thoroughly. But beyond that, he had handed Fay a powerful weapon. Neither his threats nor Frederick’s watchdogs could keep her under control. She had always been vindictive – and very creative about it. He need look no further than this plot to get rid of Emily. What would she do now that it had failed?
He shuddered. Charles would have to stay close to Emily for a few days – provided he would listen long enough to grasp the problem. Once Lady Clifford got hold of him, he could well end up facing his closest friend.
* * * *
Cherlynn locked herself in her room with a sigh of relief at finally escaping Emily’s family. Lady Clifford had ranted for nearly an hour about honor and duty, swearing that if word ever got out, Emily would die a spinster, ostracized by society. Charles had then taken over the scolding. She had managed to talk him out of challenging Drew, but he had already left for London to fetch Dr. McClarren. The moment the man declared her recovered, they would leave Broadbanks.
She feared that this day had irreparably damaged Drew’s friendship with Charles. Only a full explanation of Emily’s efforts to save Drew’s family might repair it, but that was impossible. Charles would never condone her intentions.
If he had any idea of her plans, he would whisk her all the way to Yorkshire without bothering to consult the doctor. Even explaining after Drew broke with Fay might not reinstate the relationship.
McClarren would find her healthy, of course. She could have left a month ago. Nothing could divert Charles at this point, so she had only two days to complete her mission. Her first step was to call on the village gossips, though that would have to wait for morning. It was already past visiting hours. And she needed time to work out her approach. Would they wish to help Drew, or had Randolph’s vitriol poisoned their minds?
Grimly focusing on that question, she shoved all memory of Drew’s kiss aside. She would think of it only after returning to her own time.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You sent for me?” asked Cherlynn from the library doorway. She hadn’t planned to see anyone before dinner – she needed the time to get her emotions under control – but Drew’s summons had changed her mind. Had he learned something new about Fay? Please be true! If she didn’t get back to her own time soon, she was going to commit a worse folly than kissing him.
Her vow had lasted barely an hour. All the feelings she’d been studiously suppressing rushed back the moment she saw him. His arms had felt so good! It had been too long since she had been crushed against a man’s body, and longer yet since she had enjoyed it. But this was not the time to think about Drew’s well-muscled chest or hungry lips. Not if she wanted to survive this encounter with both her sanity and Emily’s virginity intact.
Drew set aside the Times. “Close the door.”
He was sitting in one of the chairs before the fireplace. She silently complied, then took the other.
“I must apologize for my behavior in the folly,” he began softly. “It was inexcusable.”
“Are you sorry you kissed me?”
“Of course not!”
“Then I refuse to accept your apology. We both enjoyed it and would have changed nothing except the audience. We won’t discuss it again.”
“But I should not have forgotten my training as a gentleman,” he protested.
“So chalk it up to my amnesia. If I’d remembered my manners, I would have protested in a most maidenly fashion, and you would have stopped. Thus the fault is mine.”
He started to protest, but the twitch of her lips gave her away. He suddenly grinned. “You’re roasting me, aren’t you.”
“Of course. There is nothing wrong with sharing a kiss with someone you care for.” His grin turned her stomach on end, distracting her until she hardly knew what she was saying.
His head shook. “Em, you’re going to have a devilish time if you keep that attitude. But we’ll leave that for now. I’ve been thinking about Fay’s scheming ever since we left the folly. She hates you – which is another sin you can lay at my door. Overhearing my argument with Randolph would have told her how much I love you. Try to remember the night you fell. Do you have any idea who was nearby?”
“It’s a waste of time. My first memory is of you picking me up from the hearth.”
His eyes widened. “You were conscious?”
“Only for a moment. When your arms closed around me, I knew I was safe, so I let it go.”
“Safe.” Excitement filled his voice. “It’s an odd word to use – unless you were in danger. In one of your deliriums you claimed to have been pushed. Try to remember, Em. Who pushed you?”
“I don’t even know that I was pushed,” she said crossly. “It’s no use, Drew. The memories aren’t there.”
“Think, sweetheart,” he urged. “Please?”
Damn you, Emily! Can’t you at least give me this one piece of information. How did you fall? But it was useless. Poor Drew, who loved Emily so totally. It must be hell to watch her turn into a stranger.
“Let’s approach it from a different direction,” said Drew. “You remember so many things – tales about America, like that expedition to explore the French territories. I had heard of it, but know few details. I doubt Charles even knows that much, so where did you learn about it? And the war. You can’t have gotten all your information from the newspapers because you know facts I’ve never read. Try to recall how you learned things. Books? Newspapers? Was there a neighbor who taught you? Though I can’t imagine who. Even Sir Harold isn’t that informed.”
“I suppose I must read widely,” she suggested desperately, keeping her face turned toward the fire so he couldn’t see her consternation at his questions. Drew might be an idle aristocrat, but he had a formidable intelligence. Now that he’d turned it on her, she was in big trouble. Why hadn’t she guarded her tongue more closely?
Because you didn’t want to.
And it was true. Talking to him, even verbally sparring with him, was too stimulating.
“That won’t wash,” he insisted, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Charles might occasionally leave the Times on his desk, but much of your information can only be found in publications like The Edinburgh Review or Cobbett’s Weekly Political Review, neither of which he reads. His interests are neither literary nor political.”
“But yours are,” she said softly, grasping the chance to deflect him. “Why then are you friends?”
“Friendships arise from many causes. It is not necessary to share every interest in order to feel comfortable with someone. Think, Emily,” he urged, refusing to follow her lead. “Even without a memory, you should know by now that I am insatiably curious. Where did you learn so much? And why did you hide it from me?”
“How can I answer such questions when I remember nothing?” she countered.
“Think! Have you been leading a double life all these years? I’ve often seen you reading Elizabeth’s novels since your accident. Yet you used to deride novels as works of the devil – quoting your mother, no doubt, but very convincingly. You took charge of your own recovery, forcing me to find all manner of herbs – some of which are nearly impossible to get – and provide foods that should have harmed you. Yet you have always fainted at even the mention of blood.”
He moved behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. His virility beat against her, scrambling her wits until she couldn’t think. “Why, Emily? Why have you hidden so much? You knew that I would welcome an intellectual challenge. Yet you continued to play the hen-witted fool. Why?”
“How should I know?” His touch was making her weak. He leaned over the chair back, his breath hot on her neck. She fought the urge to lose herself in his arms. There was no safety there now.
“How did you come to fall, Emily? Who pushed you? Was Fay there? Did she try to kill you, my love?”
He wasn’t angry or even loud. The words beat against her ears, burrowing into her head to search out truth. The heat from his hands ignited fires all over her body, raising the insidious desire to just once have him look at Cherlynn Cardington and know her. She broke from his grasp, fleeing to the window in a futile attempt to escape that mesmerizing voice.
“Think,” he urged, following her to again grasp her shoulders from behind. “You were standing by the fireplace. I caught your eye and let you see how much I cared. Perhaps I made you careless, but after today I don’t believe it. Ten minutes later, you fell. Who did it, Emily? Who pushed you?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t even know if she was pushed.” Cherlynn froze in shock, both hands over her mouth.
“What?” Drew whirled her around to face him.
“I – nothing. My head is so fuzzy, I don’t know what I’m saying these days.” She tried to pull away, but his hands tightened.
“No, Emily! No more evasions. I want the truth.”
“Truth?” She laughed humorlessly. “Are you ready for the truth?”
He nodded.
“Very well, my lord. There is nothing wrong with my memory. I recall none of Emily’s past because I am not Lady Emily Fairfield. She shoved me into a fireplace, abducted my essence, and installed it in her body without even the courtesy of telling me who she was or
what she wanted. If she were here right now, I’d wring her neck.”
Drew released his hold and staggered back to his chair. “You are mad.”
“Not in the least. She died four days after your betrothal ball. I read about it when I was researching the Broadbanks history while trying to learn more about the—” Her throat froze, stopping her words. No matter how hard she tried, she could not mention the curse. Shaking her head, she resumed her seat near the fire. “She had died of the injuries she suffered during your ball. Lady Travis was quite scandalized that you announced your betrothal clad in bloodstained clothes, by the way – at least that’s what she wrote to Lady Debenham. Anyway, Emily had haunted the great hall ever since. She shoved me into that same fireplace while I was touring Broadbanks on June 15, 1998. I woke up in her body.”
Drew cringed into the wingback chair, staring at the woman sitting calmly in its mate. She looked the same, her ebony hair glinting in the shafts of late-afternoon sunlight that filtered through the leaded windows, her blue eyes as bottomless as usual, her slender body crying to be caressed. Yet her movements were jerky. Her voice had assumed an unfamiliar rhythm. And her words made no sense at all.
“W-who are you?” he stammered.
She sighed. “I was born Cherlynn Andrews. Until recently I lived in the United States. But at the time of my accident, I was the Marchioness of Broadbanks.”
“You are married?” His face turned stark white.
“No. I bought the title at Christie’s for ten pounds.”
“Preposterous! No Broadbanks would ever sink so low.”
She opened her mouth, but no words emerged. “Damn!” she muttered to herself. “I can’t talk.”
