Chapter Seventeen

"W hat in the blazes 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 a girl , 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 real lady before. Guilt ate at his heart, making his chest tighter. What was he going to do now? Yet there wasn't anything to do. 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?"

"But Broderick, I'm sure Emiline—"

Broderick flipped his hand in the air, breaking the contact between them. "It doesn't matter, Uncle." He breathed slowly, trying to maintain his anger. "I will do as I promised and help her locate her mother. After that, I will leave her in your capable hands to keep her safe, just as her father wished."

He spun around and marched away from his uncle. With any luck, he would be able to leave Emiline within a day and never see her again.

*

Emmie couldn't sleep. Knowing she would get to see her mother—and speak with her—kept her dreaming of their meeting all night long. Once in a while, she was able to think of Broderick and how wonderful he had been to her, especially his gentle and passionate nature, and their magical night together… and how she knew she was a ruined woman.

But today wasn't the day to stress about her feelings for Broderick, and especially how she would tell him the truth. She would worry about that later.

An hour ago, Rebecca had taken the fake Lady Sarah out to stroll through town with one of the servants. Emmie was invited—which surprised her greatly—but she declined. How could she enjoy Brighton when her mind would be preoccupied?

But now, as she paced her room, she rethought her answer. Perhaps she should have gone with Rebecca and Anna after all. At least she could have had something to do besides sit, pace, and create daydreams of how things would transpire with her mother.

When someone knocked on her door, she jumped and rushed to open it. Mr. and Mrs. Crampton stood in the hallway, both wearing sweet smiles. Remembering the role she was still playing, she curtsied and tried not to look them in the eyes. "Good day."

"Miss Emmie," Mr. Crampton began, "my wife and I would like a word with you, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind." She moved to step out of the room, but instead, the older pair walked inside and closed the door. Emmie brought over two chairs then sat on the bed as each took a seat.

"Miss Emmie… Emiline, my wife and I would like you to know that"—he paused, scratching his neck just under his collar—"um, well… we know you are really the earl's daughter, Lady Sarah."

Emmie nearly choked on her gasp. She looked between the pair, trying to read their expressions. They should be very upset at her, yet they still wore the same tender smiles they had moments ago.

She wrung her hands together in her lap. "How… how did you find out?"

Mr. Crampton glanced briefly at his wife before chuckling and looking back at Emmie. "We actually realized it the day we went to London and took your maid. Because both Mrs. Crampton and I were friends with your parents, we recognized the resemblances right away, especially when your maid referred to you as Emiline."

Emmie licked her suddenly dry lips. "And you are not angry with me?"

"Of course not, dear." Mrs. Crampton reached over and patted Emmie's hands. "We understand why you did it. We know you were only trying to protect yourself."

Emmie shrugged. "Yes. The idea was my father's. He worried for my safety, even though I would be with you. That is why he wanted me and my maid to play different roles."

"I can sympathize, my dear. Being a father, we strive to do all we can to protect our daughters, but…" Mr. Crampton paused briefly, tapping his shoe against the floor. "But I hope you will want to return to being Lady Sarah today. I have arranged to pay a visit to Estelle Winterbourne's estate to see your mother, and I would like for you to join me so that I might present you to her."

Emmie's jaw dropped. "You also know about my mother? You knew she was alive?"

Mr. Crampton shook his head. "Not until last evening, while we were at Mr. Goodfellow's party."

Tears stung Emmie's eyes, and she quickly blinked away the moisture. "I would love to see my mother today. I just don't know how to act." Her voice cracked as a few tears slid down her face.

"Not to worry, dear." Mrs. Crampton's smile shook this time, as if she battled with her emotions, too. "Mr. Crampton and I will get things in order."

Emmie nodded as tears continued to fall. She wiped them away as she gave the Cramptons her most grateful smile. "You will never know how much I appreciate your help."

They rose to their feet, and she stood with them before they walked toward the door. Just as Mr. Crampton rested his hand on the doorknob, she quickly touched his arm.

"Will you do one more thing for me?" she asked.

"What is that, dear?"

"Please don't let Broderick know who I am."

A bright blush covered his face, and his wife's coloring looked almost identical. Emmie's heart sank. She knew their answer before they could say anything.

"Forgive me," Mr. Crampton muttered. "I confronted Broderick last evening, and, well… I did let it slip about your identity. I honestly felt I couldn't lie to him."

Emmie breathed deeply, her hopes dropping by the second. "Was he very upset that I had lied to him?"

"Yes, but I think if you explain things, he will understand."

"I will." She nodded. "Thank you again for everything."

Mrs. Crampton grasped Emmie's hands. "We will leave to go see your mother at two o'clock this afternoon. Do you need me to help you get ready?"

Emmie forced a laugh. "No. I shall have Anna assist me."

"Anna?" the Cramptons asked in unison.

"Yes, my maid—the one who has been playing the part of Lady Sarah since we came to stay with you."

"Then I shall make certain Rebecca has her back soon."

As Emmie watched the Cramptons walk down the stairs, her heart wrenched with the thought of confronting Broderick. Although she wanted to talk to him to explain why she'd lied, she couldn't worry about that now.

Tomorrow would be soon enough.