“My personal life will never be any of her business.”
Stephen barked out a laugh. “If that’s what you assume, then you’re an idiot.” He stood and went to the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m sick of you. I want to be out of your sight.”
“Well, I’m not too thrilled with you either. Get out before I throw you out.”
“I’m not returning to London with you.”
“You’ve already told me so a dozen times.”
“And I’m not returning to the army.”
“What?”
“I’ve written some letters. I’m trying to muster out early, so Annie can come to England later in the summer.”
Nicholas had constantly been vexed by Stephen’s attachment to his daughter. He barely knew the girl and hadn’t lived with her but for a few months when she was a baby. What had caused such a strong bond?
Nor could he fathom Stephen’s desire to settle at Stafford. Why would he?
“You’re bringing Annie here?” Nicholas sneered, terribly hurt by Stephen’s decision and covering it with spite. “It will finally be just the two of you, the happy little family you’ve always craved.”
“Yes, my happy little family.” Stephen opened the door. “I’ll give you until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. If you haven’t departed by then, Miss Wilson and I will have a long, interesting chat.”
Stephen walked out, and Nicholas tarried in the quiet, pondering, reviewing his options, finishing his drink. Then he stormed to the barn, saddled his fastest horse, and rode off into the waning afternoon.
Benedict dawdled in the foyer, observing as the earl slammed the library door, then he tiptoed down the hall and pressed his ear to the wood.
He’d had it with the Price brothers and wanted them gone. They couldn’t head for London quick enough to suit him.
He’d made the tough choices on Lord Stafford’s behalf. He’d done all the dirty work, and now—thanks to Emeline’s interference—the earl was unraveling many of Benedict’s best ideas.
He was in a temper and had to figure out how to wean the earl away from Emeline’s destructive influence. Hopefully, a bit of eavesdropping would provide some clues as to how Benedict should proceed.
The two brothers were silent, one of them stomping around then, to Benedict’s eternal astonishment, the conversation began and the immediate topic was Emeline.
You might as well confess, Lt. Price demanded, and don’t lie to me.
I wouldn’t dream of it, the earl snidely replied.
What have you done?
I’ve started an affair.
Have you deflowered her, you wretch?
A gentleman should never kiss and tell.
Benedict staggered away, hurrying down the deserted corridors until he lurched into an empty parlor. Panting with shock, he leaned against the wall to steady himself.
Widow Brookhurst’s suspicions had been correct. Emeline was a whore, swayed to harlotry by the worst scoundrel in England!
Benedict had previously tendered a decent, honest marriage proposal to Emeline, but for the price of a few dresses, she’d rather prostitute herself to Nicholas Price.
The news was murderously offensive and beyond his comprehension.
He didn’t know how he would use the information—the vicar certainly had to be apprised—but he would exploit it to her detriment. He would bide his time; he would watch and wait.
Nicholas Price wouldn’t be at Stafford forever. He would leave very soon. Perhaps by tomorrow or the next day. Once he was gone, Emeline’s fate would be sealed.
“What will happen to us?”
“I have no idea, but I’m sure it will be something grand.”
Emeline tucked the blanket over Nan, then turned to the other bed and did the same for Nell.
“You received a letter today,” Nell said.
“How would you know that, you little scamp?”
“We were spying on Mr. Jenkins,” she admitted, unabashed. “Who was it from? Was it from another school?”
“Yes.”
“Was it good news?”
“Not this time. They’ve hired someone else, but I’m certain a positive response will arrive very soon.”
She kept her smile firmly fixed so the twins wouldn’t note her anxiety. She’d applied for dozens of jobs, but she had no experience and two sisters to bring along to any situation. Employers weren’t eager to retain people with such large burdens.
She was waiting for one last reply, but she wasn’t optimistic.
“What about Lord Stafford?” Nan asked. “Why won’t he let you start the school here? He seems so nice. I don’t understand why he won’t agree.”
“He’s still considering it,” Emeline lied.
“Guess what we think,” Nell said, and they both giggled.
“What?” Emeline inquired.
“You and the earl should get married.”
“Get married!”
“If you were his wife, it would solve all our problems, wouldn’t it?”
“We’re not marrying, so you can shove that silly notion out of your busy heads.”
“You like him,” Nan pointed out, “and we like him too.”
“And we can tell he likes you,” Nell added.
“We’re friends,” Emeline sternly insisted, “and I work for him. There’s no more to it than that, and you shouldn’t expect there might be.”
“If you say so.” Nan’s comment set off a second round of giggles.
“I do say so, and I won’t have the two of you talking about this. If any of the servants heard you, I’d be extremely embarrassed.”
The last thing she needed was her sisters constructing a fairytale. She’d given Nicholas plenty of chances to answer Nan’s original question—what will happen to us—but he wasn’t inclined to make a decision. Then again, he hadn’t tossed them out either.
It was a frustrating limbo, and she’d been annoyingly timid about pushing him for a resolution. Life in the manor was so easy, and she’d quickly acclimated. She didn’t want her circumstances to change, for it would mean he was tired of her. If she lost his favor, he would put her aside and move on, and she’d never be with him again.
“Sleep now,” she murmured.
She blew out the candle and proceeded to her room. She walked slowly, wondering if she might bump into him on the stairs, but she didn’t.
Since their afternoon visiting, she hadn’t seen him. A servant had mentioned that he’d ridden
