The Daughter of an Earl Read Free Page B

distress in her voice. Relenting, he gentled his tone. “Lady Emily, if you do not have a care for your own welfare, you must understand there are others that do. As they are ignorant of your activities, I insist on speaking on their behalf. What business could you possibly have that you clearly do not want your father knowing about, and that was worth risking your own safety for?”
    She stopped a few yards from the construction site, a cornered look in her eyes.
    A guttural cough shattered the stretch of taut silence, rescuing her, and she cleverly seized upon the distraction.
    â€œExcuse me, but I am looking for my maid,” she said to a burly workman, clutching her bonnet to her head as a gust of wind threatened to upend it.
    â€œShe went that way.” The man pointed a beefy finger down the hill toward a dirt path. Its trail cut through a line of trees edging the banks of the lake.
    â€œThank you.” Emily nodded curtly, and again leaving Brett behind, she started off in the direction indicated. Her strides were long, and her skirts flapped about her legs, accentuating her lithe figure.
    He gritted his teeth and hastened to fall in step beside her. He wanted answers—not that she would willingly give them.
    Over the past year, his encounters with Lady Emily had been akin to a fencing match, a delicate balance of parry and riposte, skirmishes but no blood drawn. It was inevitable. When two strong-minded individuals collided, one had to bend. If neither did—like a hammer connecting with an anvil—sparks flew. Yet he couldn’t stay away from her, because beneath her calm façade, he had glimpsed something simmering just beneath her surface.
    Buried secrets.
    She was hiding something, but damned if he knew what. Now that it involved clandestine meetings with men in secluded areas, he vowed to find out. He frowned, because he carried scars from another encounter with a bold beauty. Needed no more. He would keep Emily safe, but that was all.
    As if on cue, Emily broke her silence, saving him from memories more palatable with a stiff whiskey in hand.
    â€œIf you must know, I arranged to meet Mr. Drummond because I have questions in regard to my late fiancé’s work. I did not confide in my father or Julia because I knew they would worry over my looking into matters that transpired years ago. They do not like to see me upset and can be overly protective.”
    He drew his brows together. Bedford had confided to him that Emily had taken her fiancé’s death very hard. Despite over three years passing, he also knew that her family still worried over her. He was hesitant to tread onto sensitive ground, but as Emily had introduced the topic, he followed her lead. “What makes you think that Drummond could be of help to you?”
    â€œMr. Drummond and my fiancé were friends, and they were posted together in India. For those reasons, I sought his assistance, but as you witnessed, he had another agenda. I made a mistake, but rest assured, I will not make it again. That much, I can promise you.”
    â€œDrummond and your fiancé, Viscount Weston, worked for the East India Company?” Brett asked, furrowing his brow.
    His own company, Curtis Shipping, dealt in importing goods to England, and his business interests and those of the Honourable Company had conflicted in the past. Years ago, when he had sought to expand into new territories beyond England, the East India’s monopoly of the eastern trade routes thwarted his aspirations. More so, he could not compete against the company’s flagrant bribery of government customs officials, who in turn renewed the firm’s charter. They did so despite the malfeasance and the bankruptcies that had beset the firm for decades.
    â€œYes. They were posted in Calcutta together,” Emily said.
    â€œAh, carrying out the Honourable Company’s work of looting and scooting.”
    â€œExcuse me?” She