Free Emily and the Dark Angel by Jo Beverley Page A

Hector,” said Emily meekly. “So do we all. But I do wish you could give me a hint as to what this Mr. Verderan has done. To put me on my guard,” she assured him.
    He took a solid stance before the window, hands tucked behind the tails of his black coat. “I have made it my business to find out about the man,” he said weightily. “It has been most distasteful. There are any number of sordid tales, going back, if you will believe this, even to his school days, but I will not repeat them for they are unsubstantiated gossip. It is commonly acknowledged, however, that he gambles for large sums. He—and I hesitate to say it before innocent ears—he regularly consorts with loose women . He is known for his violent nature and has even fought in duels.”
    “Oh,” said Emily, unimpressed. Surely many people committed foolishness during their school days; if such things were the worst being said about a grown man, that told a tale in itself. A taste for gambling, women, and duels merely described the larger part of the fashionable men of England.
    Hector obviously read her expression. “I see I will have to be blunter. You may think such fashionable vices as play and pistols romantic, Emily, but this man’s crimes are more sordid. I spoke with a Mr. Osbaldeston, who was at school with this Verderan. He told me that Mr. Verderan swindled a large amount of money from his grandfather and as a consequence the old gentleman and Mr. Verderan’s own mother live in poverty in Ireland while he idles here in luxury.”
    “That is hard to believe,” said Emily. “The law would surely have something to say about it.”
    “I can only assume that his family has too much sensibility to take it to court. Perhaps they yet hope to appeal to a better nature he clearly does not possess.” Hector frowned at Emily. “I have to wonder why you are so determined to act as this man’s advocate.”
    Emily stiffened at his tone, aware that she had flushed. “Christian charity,” she retorted. “You are regaling me with a great many rumors, Hector, most of them hard to believe.”
    He colored slightly. “You cannot believe, Emily, that I would take any man’s good name lightly. Some facts are not disputed at all. In fact, in the eyes of the men I have spoken with, they are seen as matters of some admiration. It is apparently a fact that Mr. Verderan has not only taken part in a number of duels, he has killed two of his opponents.”
    Margaret gasped. Emily went cold. “ Killed two men?” she repeated. “That cannot be. He would have been charged.”
    “He is apparently very rich. He is also connected to some of our highest families, though his reputation is such that he is not accepted in Society. Given the lax state of the Fashionable World, I have to ask what we must think of a man even they cannot tolerate.” He saw that his words were finally having an effect and nodded. “We know how these things work in this corrupt world, Emily. The poor man feels the full weight of the law for stealing a rabbit, while this rich man walks free after stealing his mother’s means of sustenance and two men’s lives. And I ask,” he wound up, in the tone he used in his pulpit, “can such a villain, so lost to the most fundamental type of human decency, be trusted to behave correctly with a gently born lady?”
    “I suppose not,” said Emily numbly, exchanging a sobered look with Margaret. Such a man in the neighborhood was decidedly not a subject for levity.
    She went through the motions as her guests discussed local matters for a little longer and then took their leave. Why, she wondered, was she so deeply distressed?
    Because she did not want Piers Verderan of the dry wit and smiling blue eyes to be a true, blackhearted villain.
    She could dismiss Hector’s stories as nonsense, as nonsensical as Margaret’s picture of the decrepit libertine. Tales grew in the telling and could spring from nowhere at times. But so many tales?
    And she