His mother’s eyes grew wide. “No, no, no! You cannot let this happen. You must—no, no, no…You must go there and stop this. You must.”
He frowned, trying to understand why his mother was suddenly so distressed.
“Mama, please sit down. You are being?—”
“I am being hysterical? Yes, I am. But you must stop this marriage. You cannot allow him to get his hands on the book.”
He took a step back. “The Book of Confidence? Is that what you speak of? Are you telling me it is real—and that whoever marries Lady Charity will get his hands on it?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “And it cannot be Markham. It must be you. You must marry her.”
“Marry her?” he exclaimed, certain he had not heard right. “Mother, do not be ridiculous.”
“Listen to me, son. You must protect Lady Charity from men like Lord Markham, for he will not be the last. I would be surprised if he is the first. Ever since Lord Pembroke died, I have heard of all manner of men looking to marry her. Some of low standing. It cannot be permitted.” His mother sounded adamant, but Eammon was just as determined to rebuff this sudden demand. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if his mother was not engaged in some sort of scheme to get him to marry.
“I do not care about Lady Charity, nor about whom she weds,” he replied. At once, his mother clasped her hands.
“Lord Markham is a dreadful man. He has a woman in every town in England, he gambles. He would be an awful match for her.”
“Many young women must wed men they do not like. You were one of them. In fact, so were Aunt Arabella, Aunt Emma, and Aunt Hanna. And all turned out happy enough,” he argued.
“That is not the point I am making, Eammon and you know this well. It is not about happiness, it is about danger. These men seek to take advantage of her and you must prevent it. Your father promised hers that he would be the one to ensure she is looked after, as well as her sister,” she continued.
“I made no such promise,” he said, though in the back of his mind, he knew this was not entirely true. He hadn’t meant to make such a promise but …he had. Hadn’t he?
“But you did. It is a matter of honor. Besides, it is not just about Lady Charity. It is about her inheritance. And what is contained therein. If it falls into the wrong hands, it would be unconscionable.
“It cannot be allowed…It would be a disaster. I do not know what Pembroke was thinking making such a stipulation. Everyone has been talking about this wretched book for years and many would wish to marry one of his daughters on the chance that it is real and contains damaging information one could use for blackmail.”
He shook his head and placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Mama, you do not make any sense, this book has been talked about like the holy grail and now you are telling me it is real and—I still do not understand why we must stop the marriage. Why should I wed Lady Charity over some book full of gossip?”
“It is not a book full of gossip. It contains proof, evidence that could bring down great houses. You must wed Charity to prevent this.”
“Prevent other houses from falling?” he asked, for the truth was, he was well aware many dukes held secrets. Everyone in their society did. Down to the last stable hand. But why should he be made to marry Lady Charity to protect these people from having some lowly viscount get this evidence?
Why did Lady Charity matter so much? Yes, it was sad she’d be wed to a man less than ideal, but such was life. He himself might one day have to wed for convenience rather than love. Still, his mother was adamant. Her eyes burned with a fire he’d thought extinct. Yet, there it was again. She was determined, and he knew he would not be allowed to leave her before he heard her out.
“Sit down,” she commanded in a tone she had not used with him since he was a schoolboy. “Sit down and let me explain. And when I am done, you will understand why it is of the utmost importance that we protect Lady Charity and the secret she holds. Not for the sake of others but for ours.”
Eammon sat beside his mother as she’d ordered and waited with bated breath for her to tell him what he already suspected—a truth that would shake his life to the very core for the second time in his life.
CHAPTER4
Charity
“Well, isn’t this grand?” Millie Albertson, Charity's cousin, remarked as they approached the grand Stafford House just off of Saint James.
The carriage had just dispatched Charity outside the grand house and was presently rolling down the cobblestone street as her cousin took charge of her. Millie and their chaperone for the evening, Lady Miles, had already arrived ahead of time as they lived nearby. It was only her young cousin who welcomed her now. Millie, a year older than Charity, was already an experienced belle of the ball as she was on her second season.
A young woman like her, beautiful and accomplished in three languages, four instruments, and assorted arts, should have already been wed. But Millie was an independent spirit and it had hindered her prospects somewhat. Gentleman enjoyed her company but often did not wish to make an offer. It was something that did not yet worry Millie.
And if Charity was honest, it was this independence her cousin exuded that made her feel so very drawn to her.
She craned her neck to admire the impressive structure. It stood three stories in height and on its own, unlike other homes in the area which were townhouse style.
The front facade had a long porch running across and a bay window. While it appeared magnificent, it wasn’t much grander than some of the other homes on the street. The interior, however, was another matter. As they entered the opulent home, Charity glanced around in awe. The front door opened into a grand hall with a heavy red carpet ordained with golden trim. The great hall was separated by large columns behind which she saw a grand staircase leading up to a second floor where once again columns served as a divider.
They greeted their hosts and then made their way down into the ballroom. As she looked around, she noted the dominant color: gold. Gold and green paint and Chinese hanging paper adorned one room. Golden trim ran around the marble fireplace in the drawing room they passed, and each of the huge doors was white with golden accents.
