The Second Lady Emily by Allison Lane Page B

the epithet. He slipped up behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her to face him. “Forgive me, Em,” he said soothingly. “You did nothing wrong. I shouldn’t have ripped you up. But you’ve never evinced an interest in world affairs before. I was surprised.”
    “Is knowing about the world in which I live so terrible?” she asked in return, shivering at his touch. “This void in my mind is frustrating. I have to learn the rules all over again. And they make no sense! How can anyone stand to live in ignorance?”
    “Don’t think about it now,” he urged. “The memories will return. And you needn’t hide your interests completely. Ladies like your mother disparage learning – which explains why you’ve hidden it so well – but I know several bluestockings who get along quite nicely in town.”
    Cherlynn shuddered. She should not have attached that label to Emily. But it was too late. Hopefully Drew would not bandy his knowledge about and would be relieved when Emily returned to her uneducated self. This masquerade was going to be harder than she had imagined. Breaking from his grasp, she fled.
    * * * *
    Drew watched Emily leave the library, then returned to his seat. He was still in a state of shock, for she had never given the slightest hint that she read anything beyond La Belle Assemblée. Despite loving her, he suddenly felt that he did not know her at all. Did amnesia induce alien traits? Or had it merely stripped away a facade of pretense, allowing the real woman to shine through?
    It was a frightening thought. If he could know someone so well, yet be so wrong about her core, how could he judge anyone? And why had she hidden her interests from him? Didn’t she trust him? Pain stabbed his heart at her betrayal. Despite her protestations of love – which had surpassed all bounds of proper behavior – she had shared none of herself with him. It hurt.
    Charles arrived, pouring himself a glass of wine before taking the chair Emily had just vacated.
    “Anything noteworthy in the Times? ” he asked.
    “Emily just asked the same question. She had some startling – but astute – observations on Napoleon’s campaign into Russia.”
    Charles’s glass landed on the floor, spattering wine in all directions.
    “So you didn’t know, either.” He felt better knowing that even Charles was ignorant of her interests.
    “Impossible,” Charles snapped. “The girl hasn’t a thought in her head beyond clothes, gossip, and music.”
    “So I thought. But not only is she au courante on the war, her understanding of tactics surpasses that of many gentlemen.”
    “Fine praise, indeed. I know how much you chafe at being the heir, Drew. Wellington could use you.”
    Drew stared at the fire to hide the pain that twisted his face. “My last hope of a commission died with Randolph. I must secure the succession and stand ready to assume the title. Father is not well. McClarren believes he will be gone within the year.”
    Charles raised a questioning brow.
    Bitterness filled Drew’s voice. “He has suffered numerous spells since the one at William’s funeral, though no one bothered to inform me.” And that was intolerable. Anger flared. It was time to assert his rights. He had been in a fog since Randolph’s death, too morose to question even glaring insolence from the servants or the secrecy that had left him in the dark for so long. “Something is amiss with his heart. Since each attack is worse than its predecessor, it is only a matter of time before one proves fatal.”
    “My condolences. Did Emily mention how she learned so much about the war?” he asked, moving the conversation away from the emotional pit over which it hovered.
    Drew was glad to set aside his problems. Not even Charles would stand by him if the full truth emerged. His deceit weighed more heavily every day. If not for the succession, he might have ended his life by now. “She recalls nothing,” he reminded his