Page 55 of Choosing Her Earl at Last
The realization that another nobleman would have taken her sister caused Emmeline’s stomach to turn over. The betrayal was more than she could manage without feeling ill.
“A nobleman, to be certain, my lady. His beard may have hidden his face, but it did not hide his manner,” Mr. Hardy confirmed.
“We must inform Mother and have her make a list of every man that she has ever invited to one of her gatherings.”
Mr. Hardy nodded. “I have just such a list already for the servants that includes each guest’s address and preferences in food and the like.”
Emmeline smiled at the butler. “You are extraordinary, Mr. Hardy.”
Mr. Hardy took the compliment in good grace. “Simply doing my duty, my lady. I shall retrieve the list forthwith.”
Emmeline nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Hardy.”
The butler left the room and returned in short order. The two of them pored over the list, saying each name aloud. When they reached the part of the list that held her deceased husband’s name, Emmeline sighed, closing her eyes as she said the name. It was as if his very name still held some power over her.
“Norman Livingston, Marquess of Worthington.”
“I am sorry, my lady. I will make up a new list without the marquess’s name upon it,” Mr. Hardy promised, his eyes filled with sympathy.
Emmeline shook her head. “There is no need to be sorry. Your list is quite complete, and there is nothing wrong with that. You do your job well. I am surprised to find his name here as he was only ever here once, when Father died to attend the funeral.”
A sudden spark of realization dawned on Mr. Hardy’s face.
“What is it?” Emmeline asked, seeing the butler’s hesitation to speak.
Mr. Hardy frowned in thought, his eyes meeting hers in concern. “My lady, I apologize for the request that I am about to make, but could you please describe for me the marquess’s visage?”
Emmeline’s brow wrinkled in confusion, but she chose to answer him without questioning his motives. “The marquess was not a man of any particular note when it came to appearance. He was of medium height, lean of body. His features were as sharp as an eagle’s with cold gray eyes, and dark hair.”
“Did he have a beard or was he clean-shaven, my lady?”
“He was clean-shaven the last that my eyes beheld him, but when he did grow a beard on some of his travels abroad, it was quite dark and robust.” Emmeline frowned. “Why do you ask?”
Mr. Hardy had gone a bit pale, and his eyes had taken on a ghostly expression. “I believe that Mr. G may very well be the Marquess of Worthington.”
Emmeline felt all of the blood leave her face, and her heartbeat stuttered, then sped up with fearful ferocity. “That is not possible,” she breathed. “Norman is dead.”
“Did you ever see the body, my lady?”
Emmeline shook her head. “No, I did not. I received a letter from the local authority where he had died. The body was burned beyond recognition. Norman’s brother went to retrieve his body and belongings. He said that it would be too scarring for me tosee the body. He had the casket nailed shut and buried on the estate.”
“Did the marquess have a scar here?” Mr. Hardy drew his finger over the corner of his brow above the left eye.
Emmeline’s blood ran cold. “Yes,” she whispered, her entire body beginning to tremble in fear and shock.
“My lady, it is my belief that the marquess not only is the notorious criminal Mr. G, but that he also is responsible for the abduction of your sister.”
Emmeline felt as if she might faint. The thought of him returning into her life after all of these months filled her with a paralyzing dread. It was not just because of the criminal activities he might be involved in, although the possibility that he might have been responsible for Rebecca’s disappearance made her feel violent to her very core, but it was also because of what he was to her.
He was her husband, and if he was still alive, that legal connection remained. Their marriage had been arranged for financial security, and she had gone along with it for the sake of her familial duty, but she had still hoped for some form of happiness.
The cold and distant way that he had treated her from the start, only treating her as an unwanted duty, not a loved and cherished member of his family, had hurt her.
Emmeline had never been allowed the privilege to question him, to trust him, to know him. His frequent absences and the guarded walls he kept around himself had made their home a place of emotional and physical isolation. His secrets had been many. His unspoken anger and ruthless ambitions had eaten away at her confidence in any chance for a companionable marriage.
His death had simultaneously left her feeling relieved alongside an overwhelming sense of abandonment, as with his departure, she had inherited nothing but a crippling level of debt. His sudden, mysterious death had released her from the suffocating cage that he had built around her in Scotland, and she had no desire to go back.
The thought of Norman being alive, lurking in the shadows, holding her sister captive, controlling their lives from behind a veil of lies, terrified her to the core.
