Page 55 of Wedding the Widow

His father shrugged. “That is one of the problems with society today. They care so little for the truth. A lie will do just as well—and sometimes better if it will make a rumor that much more juicy. So they will be shocked, but oh so pleased, to find that you were stopped from making the grave mistake of marrying Mrs. Easton, who was trying to foist her bastard off as yours.” Father patted the table beside his plate, where a long letter lay half hidden.

Why hadn’t he noticed that letter before?

“After Georgina left, I wrote to Lady Locke, who would certainly want to know about Mrs. Easton’s perfidy and your timely escape.” Father sipped his coffee, then wiped his smug lips.

“You are the bastard, Father.” Jemmy shot to his feet, banging the table and making the dishes rattle. “Elizabeth is—” Some deeply instinctual voice warned him not to confess about the child. Don’t give his father any further leverage. Clenching his fists, he took a deep breath, bringing himself back under control. “Elizabeth is innocent, yet you will cause her to be ruined for what? Why will you do this to her? To us?”

The evil smile that curled his father’s mouth would have struck terror into anyone who saw it. “As the saying goes, ‘Vengeance is a dish best eaten cold.’ I have waited a very long time for this particular dish.”

The horror of the situation began to sink in. “Vengeance for what? What slight—real or imagined—is worth ruining Elizabeth?”

“Oh, the slight was real. Very real indeed.” Father clenched his hands where they lay on the table. Grasping the letter to Lady Locke, he waved it tantalizingly before Jemmy’s face. “If you do not give up this mad quest to marry Mrs. Easton, I will put this letter into Lady Locke’s hands by the next post.”

Slumping into his chair, Jemmy shielded his face with his hand, thinking furiously. Should he tell his father that Elizabeth was indeed carrying his child? Would the hope of an heir be enough to make him change his mind? Jemmy feared not, and so could not risk that revelation. So that damnable letter must be prevented from finding its way to Lady Locke at all costs. He would have to pretend to acquiesce to his father’s demands, then as soon as he left the breakfast table, ride hell-bent for London. If the weather held, he could be there in a day.

He could procure a special license and marry Elizabeth immediately. It was not the way he had hoped they would wed, but with his marriage, his father’s threats would become harmless. Or almost harmless. There might still be talk, but pray God, when the child was born, it would favor him, with a bit of Elizabeth thrown in for good measure. Still, enough to put paid to any speculation it was not his child.

Now to the dilemma at hand. How to prevent that blasted letter from being sent. “Of course, I do not want these false rumors spread.” He raised his head to meekly face his father. “The main thing is to keep Elizabeth’s reputation spotless. I will give you my word I will do as you ask, if you pledge me yours that you will not send that letter.”

“You will marry Lady Maude?”

Swallowing down the bile that choked his throat, Jemmy nodded. “If that is what you wish and Elizabeth is not harmed.” There was no honor in this blackmail; therefore, he did not consider himself bound by his word in this case.

“Buckleigh should arrive later this week. The settlements will be agreed upon and a date for the wedding set. As it is close to the Christmas holiday, I will suggest the week between Christmas and New Year’s. You will meet with Lady Maude, marry her, and give our line an heir of whom to be proud.”

“Of that you may be sure, Father.” Jaws clenched so tightly they ached, Jemmy bowed and strode from the room. Now to act, while his father was lulled into a sense of security. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made his way up to Fellowes’s chamber and rapped on the door. “I need you.”

A faint “Yes, my lord” came through the valet’s door.

Jemmy continued down the corridor to his room. He must avoid the appearance of leaving. Sadly, that meant abandoning Fellowes for a time. No matter. He would compensate the man well. Jemmy popped the door to his chamber open and hurried inside. His steps slowed as other implications surfaced.

He had no money, save for a handful of coins. That would scarcely do to get him to London. If only he’d thought to draw from his account before coming to Blackham, but that avenue was now closed to him. Did Georgie have any money? Likely not, given her circumstances, but it never hurt to ask. She was a very resourceful girl. Something might turn up.

With a sigh, he pulled at his cravat. Where the devil was Fellowes? The man had been right behind him. Jemmy strode back to the door, unbuttoning his waistcoat. He grasped the latch and pushed down.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he rattled the handle, but it simply wouldn’t move down. He rapped on the door again. “Fellowes? Fellowes. What’s going on here?”

“Mr. Fellowes has been taken to the village, my lord, and will be put on the eleven-thirty mail coach to London.” The voice of a footman answered him with dreadful precision.

“Why? And why is this door locked?”

“The marquess’s orders, my lord.”

“Damn you.” Jemmy pounded on the door, then ran a hand through his hair. What the devil was he going to do now?

Georgina.

Backing away from the door, Jemmy rushed to the secret panel and carefully pried it away. The inky black hole gaped open, and he sighed in relief. A glance over his shoulder, and he sprinted back to the door, pressing his ear against it, but heard nothing. He rattled the latch.

“Yes, my lord?”

So Father had posted a permanent guard. He was taking no chances on him escaping. “Tell my father this was hardly necessary.” The old man knew him extremely well, but perhaps not well enough.

“Very good, my lord.”

Silence returned, but whether from the footman’s lack of conversation or his absence, Jemmy couldn’t tell. As long as no one tried to come into the room, he was safe. He slipped into the secret passage, pulled the panel closed behind him, and threaded his way through the narrow, dark space. At last, he scratched lightly on Georgie’s panel. It opened to reveal his sister holding a candlestick, her face pale.