“What in theblazes was Miss Emmie doing dressed as a footman?” Henry growled at Broderick after they had come back from the party. Thankfully, his uncle waited until Aunt Martha and Rebecca walked inside the inn before starting his tirade.
Broderick rubbed his forehead. An ache had already started to form in his skull. Not as great as the ache in his chest, but still painful, nonetheless. “It’s a long story.”
“Does it have anything to do with her mother?”
Broderick had just taken a step, but his uncle’s comment made him stumble. He came to a halt and swung to face the older man. “What do you know about Emiline’s mother?”
“I… uh, well, I…” Henry stammered as he swiped his hand through his thinning hair. Finally, after a few awkward seconds, he squared his shoulders and met Broderick’s eyes. “Have you forgotten I’m friends with Lady Sarah’s father?”
The confusion inside Broderick deepened, and he shook his head. “What does knowing the earl have to do with Emiline’s mother?”
Henry growled and scrubbed his hand over his chin. “Oh, good grief. Will you stop asking so many questions?”
“I would if you were making any sense at all.” Broderick folded his arms. “But I don’t see how knowing the earl relates to Emiline’s long-lost mother.”
“Augh!”
Henry threw up his hands and marched away from the inn. Broderick followed, wondering what made his uncle so irritable.
“I should not be the one saying this,” the man grumbled as if talking to himself.
“Uncle, I think you should tell me. That will stop both of us from being confused.”
Sighing in defeat, Henry slumped against the side of the building, holding his head as if it would explode at any moment. “But you don’t understand. It’s not my confession to give.”
“Uncle,” Broderick said sternly. “If you don’t tell me now, I may just beat it out of you.”
Dropping his hands, Henry looked point-blank at Broderick. “This evening I met a young man who claimed to be the son of my good friend Byron, Lady Sarah’s father. After the confusion of his thinking my footman was agirl, the lad continued to perplex me even more. My first thought was that my good friend had sired a child out of wedlock, but the more the lad talked, I realized his mother was Byron’s deceased wife, Daphne—and she was not dead at all.”
As Henry’s words registered in Broderick’s brain, shock spread through him like icy fingers, numbing him quickly. The pain in his heart he’d had about Emiline leaving him changed and left a different hollow feeling—a pain that only deceit could create.
He swallowed the dryness consuming his throat. “If Daphne is Emiline’s mother, then the earl is really her father?”
Reluctantly, Henry nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Emiline is… Lady Sarah?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “Why she wanted to disguise her true identity, I don’t know, unless it was a way to protect herself because of what her uncle had done.” He placed a hand on Broderick’s shoulder. “I have known about her switch for a little while now.”
“Is her name really Emiline?”
“Yes. Her full name is Sarah Emiline Langston. Daphne called her daughter Emmie when she was young.”
Broderick’s mind swam in different directions, and he had a hard time putting two thoughts together, let alone trying to deal with all this information right now. The main panic rushing through him right now was that he had ruined her reputation. If he had known the truth, he would have been the perfect gentleman. This wasn’t a mere servant any longer, but the daughter of an earl—the lord chancellor’s niece! “Who is the woman playing Lady Sarah, then?”
“I’m assuming she is the maid.”
“And the young man who found her in the tree is her brother?”
“Yes. He was attending the dinner party with a young lady and her parents.”
Broderick rubbed his eyes, realizing the dull throb was moving from his forehead down his face. “I can’t understand any of this.”
He had never ruined a realladybefore. Guilt ate at his heart, making his chest tighter. What was he going to do now? Yet there wasn’t anythingtodo. She had outright lied to him. He wouldn’t have even kissed her if he had known her identity.
Henry squeezed Broderick’s shoulder. “My dear nephew, have you perhaps given your heart to Emiline?”
Broderick hardened his jaw and glared at his uncle. “I cannot abide women who lie, so giving my heart to her would be fruitless, wouldn’t it?”
