Twilight with the Infamous Earl (22 page)

She gave Lucy’s bed a passing glance as she walked by. There was no doubt that her sister had had a lover.

Lucy was no paragon.

Frost’s observation echoed in Emily’s head. She had not wanted to listen. Defending her sister had become as instinctive as breathing. However, he was correct. Lucy had kept secrets from her family.

If Frost was not her lover, then who had sired her child?

Emily returned to the dressing table. She opened each small drawer, but all of them were empty. Frustrated, she tugged hard on the last one and managed to pull it free from its frame. She knelt down to reinsert it, and that’s when she noticed the piece of paper wedged into the back.

“So Lucy had kept her letters in the dressing table,” she murmured out loud.

Emily set the letter aside while she dealt with the drawer. Picking up the letter, she opened it and saw the salutation.

My dearest love …

This wasn’t a letter from a friend, she thought, as she continued reading. When she had finished, it was abundantly clear that she owed Frost a sincere apology. She was holding proof that another gentleman had fallen in love with her sister.

Emily folded the letter. She could not share this letter with Lord Leventhorpe. He believed Lucy had been faithful to him, and she refused to steal that from him. There was no reason to disparage her sister’s memory.

With the letter clutched in her hand, she returned to her bedchamber. Like Lucy before her, Emily hid her sister’s letter so no one would find it.

She needed to speak with Frost. Perhaps he could help her uncover the answer to her most pressing question.

Who the devil is Captain Gladish?

Chapter Twenty-five

Unlike Frost who seemed to visit her whenever it suited him, Emily could not work up the nerve to visit him at his residence. It seemed unseemly for an unmarried lady to call on a gentleman. She thought about approaching Regan and asking for her assistance. However, that plan was flawed as well. Her friend’s natural curiosity about Emily’s relationship with Frost would place her in a difficult position. She did not wish to lie to Regan, but was not prepared to explain her complicated fascination with the lady’s older brother.

Or if there was a possible future with the gentleman.

Perhaps it did not bode well that he preferred to keep their relationship private, though he did seem to enjoy taunting the gossips with his mischief, as when he’d danced with her more than once. Emily could not help but wonder if Frost had ever courted a lady in earnest. Probably not. Though to be fair, she conceded that no other gentleman had courted her affections so she was in no position to judge.

Her sister’s expectations and her lover’s failings had led poor Lucy down a path of despair. Emily refused to make the same mistake.

Love and friendship were to be cherished. What she shared with Frost might not last, but she refused to waste the time she’d had with him on recriminations and regret. It was an enlightened approach, she reflected. Gentlemen who refused to be tamed by convention were wary creatures.

Instead of seeking out Frost, she chose to bide her time and wait for him to come to her. To ensure that he had no difficulty finding her, she had accepted Sin and Juliana’s invitation to join them in their theater box. Other familiar faces greeted her as she took her seat beside the couple. Regan and Dare were present, and Isabel and her husband, Vane, arrived shortly after her.

Oberon, or The Elf King’s Oath
was a three-act opera that she had been looking forward to all day. Exotic locales, fairies, and young lovers—the tale appealed to her romantic heart, and she confessed as much to her new friends.

Regan laughed. “Reside in London long enough, and you will discover that no one attends the theater for the announced performance,” she teased.

“Then why attend at all?” Emily asked.

Dare appeared equally amused. “The members of the
ton
wish to be admired and envied. It is the minor dramas that take place in the theater boxes that tend to be discussed long after the performances on the stage.”

Dare and Regan exchanged intimate glances, as if there was something that the couple was not telling her.

“Well, I can enjoy both,” she assured them. She leaned closer to Regan so she did not have to raise her voice. “Will your brother be in attendance this evening?”

Overhearing her question, Sin’s gaze was speculative when he said, “It is doubtful, Miss Cavell. Last evening, we had trouble at Nox and there was some disagreement on how it should be handled.”

Dare and Vane seemed to tense at the marquess’s vague explanation, which heightened Emily’s concern.

“Trouble?” Emily brought her hand to her heart at the thought of Frost being hurt. “Was … was Lord Chillingsworth attacked?”

“Would it upset you if he had been?” Sin countered instead of offering an answer to her question.

“Frost is fine, Emily,” Regan said, placing her hand on Emily’s arm to draw her gaze away from Sin. “Truly. It was Nox’s steward who was attacked. He—”

“Let’s not give Miss Cavell further reason to level charges at why Nox should be closed,” Vane drawled.

Although he was not precisely rude, his wife rapped his hand with her closed fan.

“That is enough,” Isabel warned. “All of you are too upset about Berus to comprehend that Emily’s interest has nothing to do with Nox.”

Emily’s blushing response concealed little from the three gentlemen. Of course Frost had told them of the comments she had made about seeing the end of clubs like Nox.

“I—you could not possibly believe I had anything to do with your steward’s attack?” Emily stammered.

She had been in bed with Frost, though nothing short of torture would pry the admission from her lips.

“Not directly,” Sin said, staring at her through a hooded gaze. “However, if I were you, I would choose my friends carefully, Miss Cavell.”

“Not you, too,” Juliana said, shaking her head. “You are spoiling for a fight, and Emily is not your adversary. If you get us tossed from the theater, you will be sleeping on the library sofa for the rest of the month.”

Juliana was attempting to lighten the tension in the private box, but Emily belatedly realized that she had been invited to join them for not-so-pleasant reasons.

The Lords of Vice thought she might have something to do with the incident at Nox. Had Frost come to the same conclusion?

Her throat constricted as she rose from her seat. She could do little about the shame scalding her cheeks. “Pray excuse me, I am feeling a little light-headed from the heat. I believe I will take some air in the saloon before the opera begins.”

Regan, Juliana, and Isabel also began to stand.

“We will join you,” Regan said, glaring at the men.

“No.” Emily wanted to be alone. If the ladies joined her, she would give in to her tears. “There is no need. I will not be long.”

*   *   *

No one tried to stop her, and Emily was grateful.

She could have remained in the small private anteroom just beyond the curtain of the theater box, but she wanted to distance herself from Frost’s friends. Emily did not attempt to deceive herself into believing that Regan would take her side if given the choice between her and the Lords of Vice. These gentlemen were part of Regan’s family.

She did not really fit in their world.

Although it was tempting to head for the entrance and find a hackney coach to drive her home, Emily took the passageway that would open into the large saloon. There was no privacy, but the public room would help her keep her emotions leashed.

“Miss Cavell?”

Emily nearly stumbled, but she managed to catch herself in time. She turned to address the woman, and realized with growing dismay that she recognized her.

It was Frost’s former mistress.

She could not imagine the evening getting any worse.

Chapter Twenty-six

Frost had kept his distance from Emily.

His friends’ ridiculous assumptions that she might have been indirectly responsible for Halward’s actions and Lady Gittens’s daring confrontation at the theater had put a fine edge to his mood.

Emily was upset, and beyond his assurances and charm.

Instead of sulking or staining his fists with Sin’s blood, Frost had chosen a different strategy to thaw Emily’s icy reserve.

Frost had found her sister’s Captain Gladish.

The man was residing just outside London. Frost had already sent one of his servants to the Cavell residence with a polite invitation for Emily to join him on a drive into the country. He would wager everything he owned that no matter how vexed Emily was at him, she would not decline his invitation.

His butler appeared in the doorway. “Lord Chillingsworth, you have a visitor. Are you receiving callers this afternoon?”

Frost admired his reflection as his valet stepped out of view. In her eagerness, had Emily come to him?

“Is it Miss Cavell?”

“No, milord, it is your mother.” The butler appeared aggrieved. “As always, the lady is most insistent.”

He had no time for or interest in seeing his mother. However, like the broken tip of a thorn buried in his flesh, she would fester and torment until he made the effort to dig her out.

“Escort her to the library. You have my permission to ignore all requests. My mother won’t be staying long enough for you to carry them out.”

*   *   *

Emily fussed with her bonnet for the fourth time as she and Frost traveled northeast of London to call on Captain Gladish. She could not decide if it was Frost’s proximity or her impending meeting with the man who was possibly Lucy’s lover that had her nerves just beneath her skin itching like a rash.

“You look fine,” Frost drawled. “Your fidgeting is disturbing my nap.”

Emily cast a side glance at her companion. His eyes were closed, and for most of their journey she did not think he was paying attention to her.

“I cannot believe you found Captain Gladish so quickly,” she admitted, her hands settling onto her lap. “When I mentioned the letter a few days ago, I thought the search might take years.”

“I had some incentive,” he murmured.

Bewildered, she asked, “Good heavens, what could possibly be an incentive for you?”

Frost opened his eyes. She felt the impact of his turquoise-blue gaze down to her toes. “You. View it as an apology, if you like.”

He had mistaken her silence for anger, she deduced. Emily could not deny that she had been upset the night she had encountered Lady Gittens at the theater. However, she did not blame him for the lady’s actions. He hadn’t lied when he had told her that he had ended the affair.

“You don’t owe me an apology about Lady Gittens,” she said with a sigh. “She is a troubled woman, who believes she is in love with you.”

Frost grimaced as he stretched. “Maryann understood the rules. More to the point, she doesn’t love me. She merely thinks that she does.”

The only rules he valued were his own. “Whether she does or not is unimportant,” she said coolly. “The lady believes her affections are genuine. Dismissing them does not make her pain any less real.”

“Emily,” he began.

“We have arrived,” she said, peering through the glass. “You mentioned that Captain Gladish is residing at his sister’s house.”

Emily pretended not to notice the look of frustration that darkened his expression. Frost was reluctant to let the matter drop, but she had given him little choice.

“Aye, let’s go introduce ourselves to Lucy’s captain.”

*   *   *

The confusion on the man’s face was to be expected. They had appeared on his doorstep without warning, and there was recognition in his gaze the moment his gaze settled on Emily.

“You must be one of Lucy’s sisters,” Captain Gladish blurted out before a proper introduction could be made. “Is Lucy here?” His gaze moved past them to their coach as if he expected Emily’s sister to stick her head out the window to wave at him.

Was the fellow daft?

Emily must have had similar concerns before she edged closer to him. Frost longed to place his arm around her, but he did not want to press his luck.

“Perhaps we should speak in private,” Frost said, unused to being the sensible one in the room. Or in this instance, the front hall.

Captain Gladish, who for a man who had to be in his early thirties had managed to hold on to his boyish looks, nodded and invited them upstairs to the drawing room.

They were offered tea, but Frost and Emily politely declined.

“Captain Gladish,” Emily began once they were seated. “When was the last time you saw my sister?”

The earlier delight at the prospect of seeing Lucy had faded into wariness. Frost did not blame the man. The news they brought was going to alter his world, and not for the better.

“A little more than five years ago, I believe. Has something happened?”

“Yes.” Emily reached into her reticule and pulled out the letter she had discovered in Lucy’s bedchamber. “I assume my sister hid this because … well, I do not wish to be indelicate, but your letter makes your feelings quite clear. You were in love with a lady who was betrothed to another gentleman.”

Captain Gladish accepted the letter Emily had offered him. Frost noticed the tremor in the man’s hands as he unfolded the letter and skimmed his own words.

“Miss Cavell, you speak as if my love for your sister is in the past. I regret this is not so. A day hasn’t passed when I have not thought of her and prayed for her well-being, even knowing that she chose to marry another man instead of me.”

Emily glanced at Frost, her distress so obvious that he did not give a damn about appearances. He clasped her hand and slipped his other arm around her waist.

“Captain Gladish, I cannot tell you how much I loathe being the one to tell you. My sister did not abandon you because she had married another gentleman,” she said, her voice cracking with sorrow.

Frost tightened his embrace, silently reminding her that she was not alone.

Anguish suffused the captain’s face. “I beg of you, do not say it.”