“No, I mean, yes.” She spoke with conviction. “It is something that I wish for, and no, what was seen has not been mistaken.” And then she took a deep breath. “Did you receive my missive, your grace?”
He raised his brows at her change in subject but nodded. “I did.”
“First, I’d ask for your confidentiality on this matter.”
His expression remained unfathomable, but he nodded once again. “Of course.”
“Do you think the information can be unearthed?” She’d begun to have some doubts.
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Some of it already has been. I’m curious, however, Miss Goodnight, whyyouare interested in the matter.”
“I’ve, er… come across information regarding the rift between the earl and his father.” She drew in a deep breath. “He believes his father killed a young woman and possibly her father after learning that she carried his child. The young woman’s name was Meggie Thistlebum, and according to my calculations, this would have occurred ten years ago this summer. He’s admitted to me that she was somewhat older than he. The woman and her father disappeared and Marcus,—er, Lord Blakely, rather—believes his father had them killed. I cannot help but think that perhaps the villain in all of this might have been the woman. I’ve heard of such things and I believe that perhaps he’s jumped to conclusions.”
“And this is why he refused to consider marrying his betrothed? This is why he hates Waters?”
“It is.”
Prescott took a few notes and then looked up at her. “That is why you asked after this John Thistlebum person. John Thistlebum was this young woman’s father.”
“He was. His death was the catalyst for Lord Blakely’s resentment and eventual estrangement.” If this Mr. Thistlebum was not murdered, then their entire falling out had likely all been one giant misunderstanding.
The duke narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Thistlebum lived until a little over two years ago. So not all is as Lord Blakely believes.”
A chill ran down Emily’s spine.
“I suspected this possibility.” But what of the rest? Had there been a child? Was Meggie still alive?
“I will instruct my investigator to make further inquiries,” Prescott said as though reading her mind. “But I cannot do so without asking… You are concerned for the earl because…?”
Because? She had to search her brain for the logical reason…
Because she cared for him? No. No. There was more to it than that. She was concerned… for Rhoda’s sake. Yes. Only she could certainly not tell the duke of her plans to marry Blakely off to Rhoda.
“He and I are friends.”
He stared hard at her, black eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “And yet you wish to entertain an offer from Lord Carlisle?”
His question seemed redundant. Hadn’t they already settled this?
“Oh, yes. Yes, your grace.”
He sighed deeply and then Sophia slipped into the room. “There you are.” She glanced over at Prescott. “You are convinced?”
He nodded, and Sophia shrugged. “Well, then, I suppose it’s settled.”
“I suppose,” Prescott responded unenthusiastically.
“If the two of you will be so kind as to excuse me?” Emily needed to locate Lord Blakely. She needed to tell him about Mr. Thistlebum. It would change everything. Wouldn’t it? If he softened toward his father, he might not wish to marry Rhoda. But a gentleman could not end a betrothal, even one such as this, could he? But he was doing just that to the poor girl his father had selected, wasn’t he? Poor Rhoda!
Too many scenarios began playing themselves out in her head. She dearly hoped she wasn’t making a mistake.
And on top of it all, Emily was to accept Lord Carlisle’s hand in the morning.
She needed time to think. Walking across the room, she slipped a note into Sophia’s hand. “I’ll bid you both goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Emily.” Sophia raised her brows.
“Miss Goodnight,” the duke said.
