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“You should go to him,” she croaked, glancing down. “This is your chance to present the information Mr. Long gave you so that you can thwart Montrose. This might be your only chance.”

Joseph removed his hands from Ellen’s face. He glanced to the door Westminster had just gone through, then at Ellen, then back at the door.

“I…I have to take this chance,” he said, expression pinched with misery.

“Then go,” Ellen said, her heart falling to her feet. “Go.”

Joseph studied her with a pained look, then let out a breath and hurried after Westminster.

Chapter Fifteen

Agony. That was the emotion Joseph felt as he tore himself away from Ellen and started toward the door Westminster had gone through. He loved her. His feelings for her had suddenly become so clear. She meant the world to him, and she was in pain.

But Westminster was right there, within his grasp. He had the letter Danny had drafted tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. All he had to do was pursue Westminster, explain the situation to him, and hand the letter over and the long and arduous process of defeating Montrose could finally enter its endgame.

He took a few more steps, then turned back to Ellen. She looked like a wilted daisy that had been starved of sunshine and rain in her too-modest yellow gown. It wasn’t the gown that drained the color from her face and the life from her appearance, though. It was the defeat that slumped her shoulders and dimmed the shine in her eyes.

“This will not do,” he said, blowing out a breath and walking back to her. He had caused the pallor that had descended on Ellen. He was responsible because of the way he’d instructed her to pursue the fine ladies of society. Perhaps that was what she thought she’d wanted, but it wasn’t what she needed. He could see that now.

“What are you doing?” she asked, straightening and glancing to him with surprise and alarm as he marched back over to her. “You need to go after Westminster. You need to bring Montrose to his end.”

“I do,” he said, reaching her and grasping her hand. “But I cannot do it without you.”

Once he had a firm grip on her hand, he started back down the hall to the door where Westminster had disappeared, bringing Ellen with him.

“I can’t go with you after Westminster,” she hissed, tugging on him a bit as if to keep him back. “I cannot go unaccompanied into a room with only gentlemen.”

Joseph glanced back over his shoulder at her, a smile suddenly spreading across his face. “Has that ever stopped you before?”

Ellen snapped her mouth shut as her eyes went wide. Then she, too, burst into a smile. “No,” she admitted. “But it’s gotten me into trouble more times than I can count.”

Joseph stumbled just as he reached the door Westminster had disappeared through. A prickling feeling that Ellen truly had gotten into trouble with a man—or men—that she’d been alone with swept over him. She’d clearly had more experience than him when they’d made love for the first time on the sofa in his parlor. But now was not the time to think about that.

He forged boldly ahead, pushing open the door Westminster had gone through and bringing Ellen into the room with him.

Immediately, he realized what a terrible idea it was to simply burst into a room with a lady without investigating to see what sort of room he was entering. It was a small room that contained several screens set up at the corners and a table with a washbasin and several small towels piled to one side. As soon as he and Ellen were in the room, he heard the tail end of a stream of liquid hitting what had to be a chamber pot behind one of the screens.

“Oh, I, er….” Joseph didn’t know what to say.

Whether it was the ordinary use of the room or not, the space had been made into a lavatory for guests of the ball. The male lavatory. And he’d dragged Ellen into it.

A moment later, Westminster stepped out from behind one of the screens, still in the process of buttoning his trousers. As soon as he saw Joseph standing there gaping at him—or rather, when he saw Ellen in the room—he jolted and his eyes went wide.

“I beg your pardon,” he said to Ellen, as if on instinct. A moment later, his expression clouded. “Forgive me, but what are you doing here?” That question was directed to Joseph, then followed with a deeper scowl and, “This is not a room for assignations.”

“No! No, it’s not that at all,” Joseph said.

His immediate impulse was to make excuses and argue with Westminster until he was certain the man didn’t think he was just some wily young buck attempting to importune a woman. He needed to keep his wits about him and stay focused on the matter at hand.

He cleared his throat, let go of Ellen’s hand, and reached for the letter in his jacket pocket. “Your Grace, I have been attempting to speak to you for quite some time now about a difficulty I believe you are about to encounter with your Fitzrovia building project.” Somehow, he managed to sound serious and important as he took a step closer to Westminster.

But Westminster didn’t seem impressed. “Yes, I am aware,” he said, glaring at Joseph. “You have made quite a nuisance of yourself in the past fortnight, Mr. Rathborne-Paxton.”

Joseph took a breath and forced himself to remain on an even course, to stand tall with his shoulders squared, and not to sound like a petulant child when he spoke. “I understand that my persistence in this matter might be unsettling, Your Grace, and that you might not feel as though I have any right to interfere in your business dealings. But where Montrose is involved, I cannot stay silent.”

“I have no wish to be bothered with this,” Westminster said on a sigh, starting toward the door.

Ellen stepped very subtly in front of the door to block his progress. Westminster was not the sort of man to lay hands on a woman, so he was forced to turn back to Joseph, as if requesting he ask Ellen to move.


Tags: Merry Farmer Historical