Page 66 of Bound By her Earl

The set of Emily’s mouth was grim. “Your guess is as good as mine—or ours, I should say,” she amended. “There was one letter in the previous bunch addressed to G as well. Frances noticed it when I showed her and Diana the letters.”

Benedict swallowed hard against the instinctive wave of shame that threatened at the news that Lady Frances Johnson and the Duchess of Hawkins both knew about his mother’s perfidy. Heshouldn’t have been surprised—if Emily was close enough with the pair that they’d all remained in the Duchess’ bedchamber while she gave birth of all things—but it still stung his pride.

The prickle of discomfort was short lived, however, as it was quickly overshadowed by an idea that clicked into place in his mind. He looked back to the letter he’d been previously exploring.

Yes, this wasn’t a lettertoDowling or Theo as his mother had evidently called the man; it was a letteraboutDowling. He’d seen what he expected to see—letters between his mother and her deceased lover—not what was truly there.

“She paid Dowling for something,” he said, showing Emily the letter.

“’I can pay Theo, too,’” she read. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were bright, keen, and intrigued even as her mouth grew tight with worry. “So she wasn’t just blackmailing Dowling—wasn’t just getting moneyfromhim. She was paying him—or paying him off—about something else. But what?”

She frowned to herself, lips pursing in thought. “I wish we could ask Diana,” she muttered to herself. “She’s the one with the head for all of this conniving and scheming. But I suppose it wouldn’t do to pull her away from her baby for what amounts to almost no new knowledge at all. Unless you have an idea what all this was about?”

Emily was looking at him, expression hopeful. He despised himself for not being able to make good on that hope.

Benedict shook his head helplessly, the pleasure he’d experienced in the last few days quickly buried beneath the mountainous rubble of his troubles. God, but his mother was an eternal headache. Even when she was blessedly out of his house, she managed to infect every corner of his life with her miserable presence.

“I don’t know,” he admitted bleakly. “And I don’t have the faintest idea how we could find out.”

It took a mere six days after her marriage for Emily’s sisters to come and find her. When the twins arrived in the Countess’ parlor (which Emily had, thank the good Lord above, cleared of any scandalous letters from the Dowager Countess—the last thing she needed was for Amanda to insert herself intothatdebacle), Emily jolted in shock.

After the years and years of complaints about how Emily was always overbearing and underfoot, she’d expected them to last at least alittlelonger before they came asking for a favor.

And they were clearly here to ask for a favor, she noted wryly to herself. Rose looked too sheepish and Amanda too unconvincingly angelic for the two to have any other purpose.

“Hello, darlings,” she said, setting aside her ladies’ magazine. It was expected that a new countess would do some redecorating around the house, and Emily intended to do some proper research before making any large changes—though she already knew she’d go for something a bit more understated than the Dowager Countess’ taste for the sumptuous.

“Hello, Emmy,” Amanda said with a beaming smile. “Aren’t you looking well! Marriage really does suit you, you know.”

It was blatant flattery. But perhaps marriagehadchanged Emily because instead of arching a brow and reminding her sister of the merits of honesty, she decided to play along.

After all, there was no rule that said she had to make things easy on her troublesome little sisters, was there?

“Thank you, Amanda,” she said graciously. “Have the two of you come to see my new home?”

Rose was standing frozen, clearly trying to figure out the rules of this new game—or deciding if this Emily was some sort of elaborate imposter that had replaced her real sister. Amanda’s eye twitched as she looked wildly around the space.

“Er, yes!” she lied brightly. “This room is, um, very nice. Very, very, ah, colorful.”

The second descriptor, Emily allowed, was more honest than the first. There had been less of a cohesive theme to the decorationscheme of this parlor than the suggestion that every expensive item that had ever caught the Dowager Countess’ eye had been thrown into one space. Emily had removed some of the more headache-inducing objects already, including an enormous gilt mirror. That was how she’d uncovered the second set of letters which had been hastily tucked behind the mirror’s frame.

Not that she planned to so much as think about those letters with her sisters present. Emily had never seen proof that her sisters’ talent for troublemaking extended to outright clairvoyance, but it was better to be safe than sorry in situations like these.

She’d learned that lesson the hard way with the twins. Many, many times over.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun.

“That’s so sweet of you,” she said, beaming at her sisters. “Would you like a tour? I’m getting acquainted with the place still myself, of course, so we might get turned around a bit. It took barely more than an hour when the housekeeper first took me, and I’m sure it wouldn’t bethatmuch longer for us.”

She saw the moment she overplayed her hand. It was evident in the way Rose stopped acting like a startled rabbit, hiding from a predator, her expression instead dropping into a very human, very unimpressed smirk.

“She’s toying with us,” she told her twin dryly.

Amanda’s panicked smile at the thought of an hour-long tour shifted into an expression of abject outrage.

“That’s terribly rude, Emmy,” she scolded. “It isn’t at all nice to tease.”

And the irony ofthatstatement was so delicious that Emily had to laugh for several long minutes. Her sisters did their best to maintain their disapproving expressions but didn’t last very long. Whatever their flaws, the twins were not opposed to a good joke at their own expense.

---