“I’m afraid I must be off for the evening.”
“We are sorry to lose you.”
He nodded and made to step past her. Until she spoke again.
“Did you see Lord Willbridge?”
Every nerve in his body surged with energy as he stared down at the woman. She must be deluded. “Willbridge?” he asked carefully.
“I know the two of you are thick as thieves; I thought he would have sought you out. He was here with his bride, though they did not stay for long.” She shrugged. “No matter, for even a few minutes of their presence was enough to make my little ball the fête of the year.” She chuckled delightedly.
The news that his friend had been there left him stunned. When last he’d seen Willbridge and Imogen, they had been back at Willowhaven. How—and for that matter,why—would they have come to London?
He peered at Lady Beezleton. She was elderly, to be sure, but her eyes were clear and sharp. She wasn’t confused in the least. Which meant Willbridge truly had been there.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered. “What were they doing here?”
Lady Beezleton raised one gray eyebrow. “I’ve no idea. It seemed they were looking for someone.”
Looking for someone?A thought hit him then, leaving him ice cold. Mayhap there was something wrong with Emily. Perhaps she was ill, had asked for him.
He shook his head. They would not have traveled all the way to London for something of that kind. Even if Emily were failing, Willbridge wouldn’t know what she meant to him. That she was the most important person in his life.
“If you do see them,” Lady Beezleton went on, oblivious to his mental torture, “please give them my regards. And that lovely young woman they had with them.”
His every sense sharpened. “What young woman?” he demanded.
Lady Beezleton blinked at his tone but was too well-bred to comment on it. “The lady they had with them. Willbridge’s sister, I believe.”
“Lady Daphne?” But no, surely they would not have brought her to London ahead of her come-out.
“Oh, I am horrid with names. I cannot recall.”
He barely stopped the frustrated growl that clawed inside his chest. “Perhaps,” he managed through clenched teeth, “if you could describe her?”
“Certainly. She was wearing a lovely pale blue silk gown that had the most cunning little puffed sleeves. There were small seed pearls in her hair, a brilliant addition, as they contrasted nicely with the color.”
A growl rose up in Malcolm’s throat. He had just determined to go to Willbridge’s town house and see for himself when she said it.
“Oh, and the scar, of course.”
Elation filled him. Taking the woman’s hand up for a quick kiss, he spun about and raced from the ballroom.
She had come. She had traveled all the way to London, had braved a ball, had done the very thing she had dreaded most in the world. And there was no doubt in his mind why.
She had done it for him.
Though the question remained, why had she left before finding him? As he sprinted out the mansion and called for his carriage, he thought of where he had been in the past half hour. Dread settled under his skin. Had she seen him with Lydia? After the devastation that woman had caused between them at Willowhaven, he could imagine what Emily must have assumed if she had. Damn Lydia all to hell. Even now she was turning his life upside down.
No matter, he thought as his carriage rolled up. He barked his direction to the driver and vaulted inside. For within the hour she would know the truth of his feelings for her.
She would finally be his.
Chapter 27
Heart pounding like mad in his chest, Malcolm sprinted up the front steps to the Masters town home. He hammered on the solid front door before his feet had even found purchase on the top step. As he stood waiting impatiently to be let in, he recalled all the times he had entered this house in the past, in preparation for a night of debauchery or drunk and stinking at the completion of one. His visit today was for another purpose entirely. And he would hopefully leave with a fuller heart and a brighter future.
The door swung open. The butler bowed, stepping aside. “Lord Morley. Lord Willbridge is in his study.”
