“I am glad that we are betrothed.” The voice from his throat sounded gruff, thick, and entirely unlike him, making him flush with embarrassment. “What was it that you wished to discuss with me, might I ask?”
Miss Simmons pulled her hand from his and an instant chill flew through Hugh’s veins, leaving him suddenly cold.
“There was something which I wished to tell you. It was only a few days ago when I attended a soiree. I was, of course, at the back of the room, and overheard a conversation which has had me a little perplexed.”
“Oh?” Hoping his voice had returned to normal, Hugh tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
Miss Simmons frowned, her gaze drawing away from his again.
“It was a little strange. Either their conversation meant nothing at all,orit meant so much that it is very significant indeed, and might, in the end, lead us – or you – to whoever it is who has been speaking of you so badly.”
Hugh’s eyebrows lifted, surprise filling his chest.
“Is that so? Might you be willing to tell me what you overheard?”
She smiled at him.
“I should be glad to. It seems as though there is the occasional advantage to being a wallflower!”
“Lord Blackmore!”
Turning his head, and a little frustrated by the interruption, Hugh scowled at Lord Elmsford.
“Must you interrupt me now?” he asked, half-teasingly. “Can you not see that I am speaking with my betrothed?”
“I can, but I must speak with you first. It is urgent.”
Hugh looked into his friend’s face, seeing the gravity settling into the man’s expression and, instantly, his stomach dropped as his heart clenched hard.
“I can speak with you both, if you wish it?” Lord Elmsford asked, looking at Miss Simmons. “Since you are now betrothed, it might be best if this occurred.”
“Yes, I quite agree.” Hugh reached for Miss Simmons’ hand. “Come, let us go to the parlor.”
He did not hesitate, did not stop to ask if Lady Grant ought to join them, for such was his worry, he wished to make his way there without hesitation. Thankfully, Miss Simmons did not make a complaint either, and striding through the crowd, Hugh led the way to the main door of the ballroom and walked along the hallway with quick steps until they could step into the parlor.
“What is it?” he demanded, having loosened his grip on Miss Simmons’ hand, though not released it entirely. “Have you heard something new?”
“I have.” Lord Elmsford pushed one hand through his hair and began to pace up and down the small parlor, his expression grave, but his eyes darting from one thing to the next. “It was quite by chance, though I fear that this rumor may be the very worst of them all.”
A knot tied itself into Hugh’s stomach.
“Worse than being considered a rogue and then impoverished?”
Lord Elmsford nodded, and turned on his heel, moving back up the room towards Hugh.
“I heard the whisper given to me that you are not the rightful heir to the title.”
“What?” Shock had an exclamation flying from Hugh’s mouth as Lord Elmsford nodded, but did not look at him, continuing his pacing. “They think I ought not to be the Earl of Blackmore?”
“Precisely.”
“For what reason?”
Scrubbing one hand down his face, Lord Elmsford took in a long breath and then huffed it out before coming to a complete stop.
“Because,” he said, his voice low, “they are whispering that you are illegitimate.”
Hugh stared at his friend, but Lord Elmsford only nodded miserably.
