Emily fought the urge to flee the
room. She knew she had nowhere to run and realized that the two men easily
could block her escape if she did.
Lord, please give me patience and help me find Your will in this mess. If You
see me through this evening’s madness, I promise I shall do my best to be more
patient in my future quest for a position. She turned to the teapot and began to pour herself a second cup to
calm her nerves. Although her hand shook slightly, she did not spill any of it
and was able to keep the quiver from expressing itself in her voice as she
answered, “I hope you don’t mind me taking refreshment while you relate your
story, my lord.”
Lord Berkshire smiled handsomely and
pulled a stool next to her table. “My friend,” he began, “as you may have heard
is Lord Lucian Grummel, Baron of Westings. His father, Lord Richard Grummel,
left his entire estate to Lucy after sending his eldest son – Algernon – into
the military for reform. Algernon is a bad fellow. He fell away from the Church
after his mother died and took to drinking and to gambling. As you may expect,
the disgraceful punishment did nothing to reform him. In fact, the military
life only increased his dissipation.
“After his father’s death, Algernon
sold out and tried to have the will overturned. However, the letters of patent
were very loose and only specified a male heir. Thus, the will held for both
the title and estate, but during the proceedings, it was discovered that if
Lucy died without marrying, the property and title would legally revert to
Algernon whether he had reformed or not. Lucian believed he had years to choose
a mate and raise a family. A recently broken heart did nothing to help the
matter. However, tonight highwaymen waylaid him. He managed to make it to the inn,
but the doctor is certain he now lay upon his deathbed upstairs. To preserve
his father’s dying wish, he must marry immediately. You are the only suitable
female available to perform this task.”
“I was given to understand there was
a maid, my lord.” Emily glanced at Lord Berkshire’ pleading eyes and then
wished she had not. A faint flicker of a smile brushed his face and warmed her
heart.
“She is but ten years old,
Miss Radford, and Mol’s daughter is twelve. Neither were raised to attend to
the details of an estate.”
Emily’s was aghast. “But I am a—”
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