Read Online The Second Lady Emily by Allison Lane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allison Lane
Tags: Regency Romance
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hundreds more being born. The fifth marquess was a powerful man. His relatives held positions of influence in government, the military, and society. What would happen if all those men and women continued their lives unfettered? How could she, an insignificant American, come to be in the right place to be wafted back if there was no curse? At first glance, Emily’s actions could create a really nasty paradox.
On the other hand, she doubted that Emily could have acted alone. If that were possible, millions of people would have changed their lives – innocent victims of random violence, repentant sinners, persons disabled by accidents, and so many more. Thus there must be a higher authority who processed requests for intervention. If that were the case, then she could trust that power to maintain the balance of the universe by preventing such a paradox. Whatever steps she took now would not destroy the integrity of time or prevent her from touring Broadbanks on June 15, 1998.
It was a comforting thought, and she could only pray it was true. Her track record for clear thinking wasn’t very impressive.
Again she contrasted the laughing, fourteen-year-old Thurston with the grim sixth Marquess of Broadbanks – and with the haunted man who had lingered at her bedside. Andrew Villiers, Earl of Thurston. Charles called him Drew. Emily would also have done so, at least in private. Drew. She liked the name. He deserved better than death by suicide at age twenty-nine. She would save him from Fay, and save herself as well.
The first step must be investigation. She couldn’t free Drew unless she understood why he and Fay were betrothed. His personal feelings were obvious. Spending hours at Emily’s bedside – often with no one else in the room – bespoke his love. Unless her understanding of Regency propriety was completely off, his behavior was scandalously compromising and could ruin Emily’s reputation if word of it leaked out. He had also wrested control of Emily’s convalescence from her own brother. Both actions must stem from his fear of losing her. So why was he betrothed to Fay?
His father might have arranged it, of course – Lady Travis had hinted that was so when she mentioned the long friendship between Lords Broadbanks and Raeburn – but why would a marquess force an alliance with a baron’s daughter when an earl’s sister was available? No matter what criteria one judged by – breeding, wealth, character, personal preference – Emily was clearly the better match.
So she would start by learning how the betrothal arose. Halting before the mirror, she met Emily’s unexpectedly blue eyes. “I’ll try to help you,” she whispered. “But I can’t guarantee success. I’ve bungled every task in my life. There’s little hope this will be any different.”
Half an hour of pacing had expended her scant energy. She climbed back into the high bed, arranging the mountain of pillows behind her so that she was half sitting. Her eyes noted the bell pull, but she resisted the urge to summon her maid. Before she spoke to anyone else, she must decide what to say.
As she drifted in semi-slumber, she recalled the tour guide’s words. Drew’s will had ordered that his portrait hang in the great hall as long as the house stood. And now she knew why. Emily was the ghost in blue who had haunted the site. He had wanted to spend eternity gazing at her. Had he felt guilty for loving her when he was bound to another? Had he been responsible for her fall? Cherlynn would have to work out the answers for herself. They were scarcely questions she could ask him.
And they weren’t the only puzzles. Why had Emily chosen her? She was hardly the sort one turned to in an emergency.
Yet perhaps she really was suited to this particular task. Her two years of working for the committee had taught her to gather and assimilate data, piecing facts together to make a picture. If she was to solve a mystery, such a skill would be useful.
On the other hand, she doubted that Emily could have acted alone. If that were possible, millions of people would have changed their lives – innocent victims of random violence, repentant sinners, persons disabled by accidents, and so many more. Thus there must be a higher authority who processed requests for intervention. If that were the case, then she could trust that power to maintain the balance of the universe by preventing such a paradox. Whatever steps she took now would not destroy the integrity of time or prevent her from touring Broadbanks on June 15, 1998.
It was a comforting thought, and she could only pray it was true. Her track record for clear thinking wasn’t very impressive.
Again she contrasted the laughing, fourteen-year-old Thurston with the grim sixth Marquess of Broadbanks – and with the haunted man who had lingered at her bedside. Andrew Villiers, Earl of Thurston. Charles called him Drew. Emily would also have done so, at least in private. Drew. She liked the name. He deserved better than death by suicide at age twenty-nine. She would save him from Fay, and save herself as well.
The first step must be investigation. She couldn’t free Drew unless she understood why he and Fay were betrothed. His personal feelings were obvious. Spending hours at Emily’s bedside – often with no one else in the room – bespoke his love. Unless her understanding of Regency propriety was completely off, his behavior was scandalously compromising and could ruin Emily’s reputation if word of it leaked out. He had also wrested control of Emily’s convalescence from her own brother. Both actions must stem from his fear of losing her. So why was he betrothed to Fay?
His father might have arranged it, of course – Lady Travis had hinted that was so when she mentioned the long friendship between Lords Broadbanks and Raeburn – but why would a marquess force an alliance with a baron’s daughter when an earl’s sister was available? No matter what criteria one judged by – breeding, wealth, character, personal preference – Emily was clearly the better match.
So she would start by learning how the betrothal arose. Halting before the mirror, she met Emily’s unexpectedly blue eyes. “I’ll try to help you,” she whispered. “But I can’t guarantee success. I’ve bungled every task in my life. There’s little hope this will be any different.”
Half an hour of pacing had expended her scant energy. She climbed back into the high bed, arranging the mountain of pillows behind her so that she was half sitting. Her eyes noted the bell pull, but she resisted the urge to summon her maid. Before she spoke to anyone else, she must decide what to say.
As she drifted in semi-slumber, she recalled the tour guide’s words. Drew’s will had ordered that his portrait hang in the great hall as long as the house stood. And now she knew why. Emily was the ghost in blue who had haunted the site. He had wanted to spend eternity gazing at her. Had he felt guilty for loving her when he was bound to another? Had he been responsible for her fall? Cherlynn would have to work out the answers for herself. They were scarcely questions she could ask him.
And they weren’t the only puzzles. Why had Emily chosen her? She was hardly the sort one turned to in an emergency.
Yet perhaps she really was suited to this particular task. Her two years of working for the committee had taught her to gather and assimilate data, piecing facts together to make a picture. If she was to solve a mystery, such a skill would be useful.
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