The Countess Confessions

Chapter 12





For most of his life, the Honourable Michael Rowland had managed to live between two worlds. Then one day he realized he didn’t have to make the choice. Society harbored deep prejudices toward his natural father’s people, but also a fascination for their wandering ways. Baron Rowland, the man who’d raised Michael as his own son and heir, had come to terms with Michael’s heritage the year after his wife had died. The baron had adored her. He would never marry another. But he wanted a son, and Michael was an easygoing child who never gave him a spot of trouble, unlike his sweet younger sister, who had been a magnet for mischief from the night she had climbed out of her cradle.

The baron had his failings. He drank to excess. He grew distressed if Michael showed an interest in his gypsy ancestry. But Lord Rowland had never told anyone that Michael was not his. Emily was the one who seemed to have been sired by a wild seed.

“If I think we’ve been followed,” Michael said to the maid sitting immobile on his saddle as if rigor mortis had set in, “we won’t return to the house. We’ll go along the hollow ways.”

“The hollow ways?”

“Tracks that have been made by rain or wagons transporting goods by drivers who don’t want to be spotted. Try to lean back against me and relax. You’re jumping at every twig that snaps. If you don’t stop, I’ll have to—”

“Do what?”

He’d thought to answer Kiss you, but a kiss would ruin their camaraderie or initiate a romance that had no chance of survival. Iris was three years older than Emily, and he had always known that while he was at war or reacquainting himself with a purposeless life, he could count on Iris to take care of Emily.

“How do you know you can trust that man with your sister?” she said quietly.

“I’ve seen him on the battlefield. He never thought twice about his own life when it came to his troops. That kind of decency and sacrifice means more to me than how he stirs his tea.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“I don’t remember exactly. Men don’t keep track of their social encounters like women do. I’d say it was six or more years ago in Spain.”

“Six years, sir. And prior to that how well did you know him?”

Michael nudged his gelding forward. “I knew other men who served under him, and that was good enough for me. He was a brave and honorable solider during our acquaintance. What more can you ask of a man?”

“He could have become a dishonorable philanderer since then,” Iris said not unreasonably. “It isn’t as if he keeps good company.”

“He’s an agent for the Home Office, and if you repeat I said that, I will never speak to you again.”

“He’s a spy?” She sounded relieved that there was an explanation for Damien’s behavior. “That was what he was doing in the tower? He didn’t make up his story to frighten us away?”

“I don’t know the entire story myself,” Michael admitted. “But I doubt that the earl would—”

“An earl! A Scottish earl, he is now? He was supposed to be a wool merchant. I’ve heard of noblemen investing in trade, but not of an earl who deals in sheep.”

“Be quiet, Iris. Your voice carries in the woods.” Michael said, dismounting at the end of the narrowing trail.

“You’ll have to change your clothing and cut your hair the moment we get home,” she said thoughtfully. “Whether you like it or not, this isn’t the time to attract undue notice, if I haven’t misunderstood the gravity of the situation.”

“I will admit one thing,” he said with a reluctant smile, “of all the schemes in which you have served as Emily’s henchman, this is by far the most heinous.”

“Not that either of us have ever been able to refuse her. Still, she respects you more than she does me.” She slid down before a cloak of creeping vines that hung between the trees. The reassuring shape of the baron’s modest country house showed through the foliage.

“You could have stopped her if you’d been so inclined,” he said.

“Lucy thought up the idea,” she answered. “I was only trying to be helpful. My mistress believed that this was her one chance at happiness. Did you discourage her?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I wanted her to be happy, too.”





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