Emma told herself that, as cousins, no social codes were being broken by being alone together. She sent him a covert glance. He seemed engrossed in his book, turning the pages and occasionally frowning, which made him appear quite stern. Emma sighed. Despite her cousin’s occasionally forbidding mien, this was the first time in an age that she’d felt relaxed and safe.
Richard looked up and caught her gazing at him. The smile he sent her transformed his face.
‘Everything all right? Would you like more tea? I can pour if you wish.’
Emma felt the heat rising to her cheeks. ‘Oh no, I’ve had sufficient, thank you.’ She’d retained her composure through all sorts of precarious situations on the journey home, but why did her pulse race when he looked at her? She racked her brains to think of something intelligent and original to say.
‘What are you reading?’ Not her most scintillating conversational gambit, Emma told herself.
Richard held up the volume to show her.
‘It’s Pope’s translation of the Iliad. I didn’t want to struggle with the original.’ He gave a warm chuckle. ‘Greek was never my favourite subject at school.’ He gestured towards the shelves. ‘Your grandfather’s library is certainly well stocked. Whoever built up this collection was a connoisseur.’
Emma smiled. Here was someone who appreciated Grandfather’s fine taste in books.
‘Yes, Grandfather loved his books. Grandmamma reads a lot too, though much to Grandfather’s disapproval, she prefers novels.’ She tilted her head to better see the book Richard showed her. ‘Papa told me that Pope’s translation did Homer a disservice, and he forbad me from looking at it. He insisted that I should only read it in the original.’ She rolled her eyes and added with a laugh, ‘Though, obviously, Grandfather didn’t feel that strongly about it if he purchased a copy.’
Richard’s eyebrows lifted. ‘What, you read Greek?’
‘Of course, and Latin too.’ Feeling decidedly bold, she resolved to admit all her failings as a female. Better to get his disillusionment over with quickly. ‘I was Papa’s amanuensis, along with Mama. I had an education normally reserved for sons. There was such a gap between my birth and Jamie’s, Papa had given up hope of having an heir.’
She sent him a quizzical look. ‘I suppose I’ve shocked you, and you think I’m a bluestocking? I shouldn’t really own up to being educated, should I? Nobody likes a clever female.’
Emma waited for his put-down.
‘Not at all! I was surprised, that’s all. Pleasantly surprised, if you must know. Young ladies should be encouraged to use their brains and not just lead lives of idleness. My sister Julia has a fine mind, although her talents lie in the sciences and mathematics.’ He paused to take a sip from his glass of port while Emma struggled to digest the fact that he didn’t disapprove of her. ‘She looked after our mining accounts and assisted with some of the estate business before her marriage,’ Richard continued. ‘I’m happy to say her husband also appreciates her talents.’ A wry smile appeared on his lips. ‘Indeed, she wouldn’t have consented to marry him if he hadn’t. And more to the point, I wouldn’t have let her.’
Emma’s world view shifted on its axis. Here was a gentleman who didn’t think she was odd. How unexpected and… how troubling. She gave herself a mental shake and reminded herself of her mother’s warning.
‘I apologise, Cousin Richard. I didn’t mean to be rag-mannered. I mistakenly assumed you were like the other gentlemen of my limited acquaintance who advised Papa that he was making a grave mistake in educating me as if I were a son. They tried to convince him that a spinster’s lot was my future.’
Emma didn’t go on to voice the dangerous thoughts that the life of a spinster had become her ambition. Better not reveal too much of her mind’s workings. With a trembling hand, she set her teacup back on its saucer before risking a glance at Richard’s face. Instead of the expected revulsion, she saw only admiration reflected there.
‘You’re most certainly forgiven for making that assumption. I’m afraid I’m somewhat out of step with a lot of what many of my peers think about females.’ Richard settled back in his seat, the book he’d been reading now set to one side. ‘I’m happy to say that opinions in society do seem to be changing, albeit slowly. Why, you’ve only to see the difference in the way views about women’s education and an individual’s rights to self-determination are being discussed and not immediately dismissed as when they were first put forward.’
Emma blinked. Did he truly believe what he was saying, or was it a ploy to draw her in?
‘You’ve read the Wollstonecraft book?’ She tried to keep the astonishment from her voice.
Richard nodded. ‘I have indeed. And I think much of what it contains makes a great deal of sense. Others are making the same points, although more obliquely.’ His face screwed up in concentration. ‘Let me think. What’s it called now?’ His head tilted towards the ceiling. ‘Got it! Belinda. Mrs Edgeworth.’ He grinned at Emma and then rolled his eyes. ‘Julia insisted I read it… all three volumes.’ Emma couldn’t resist smiling back at him. ‘My sister can be quite forceful, you know. Wait until you meet her.’ He squinted towards the bookcases. ‘There doesn’t appear to be a copy here. If you think you might like to read it, let me know and I’ll ask my secretary to send one down for you.’
Emma didn’t for one moment believe Richard was a man to be bullied by his sister. But he certainly seemed to be a man out of the ordinary, having an infectious sense of humour, for a start, and demonstrating nothing but kindness and concern for her welfare. She was in dangerous territory indeed. Could she manage to maintain her emotional distance from this increasingly attractive man?
Richard drained the last of his glass of port and took a poker to the dying embers of the fire. The clock on the mantelpiece showed it was past eleven. Emma couldn’t believe the time had flown so quickly.
‘Well, what a lot of interests we share, Cousin Emma,’ Richard said, setting the poker back on its stand. ‘I don’t think I’ve had a more stimulating evening in ages. Certainly not since Julia left home.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘You look tired, my dear. Shall I call for Polly to attend you?’
Emma gave her assent, and while she waited for her maid to appear, she examined her own feelings. She, too, had enjoyed the evening and, despite her misgivings, looked forward to spending more time with her new cousin.
When Polly turned up, she and Emma made their way to the stairs.
‘Goodnight, Emma. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning,’ said Richard, who’d escorted them into the hallway. Then, much to Emma’s astonishment, he suddenly swept her into his arms.
‘Noticed you were limping. Easiest if I take you up.’ His voice was unusually gruff.
‘Oooohhh, really there is no need,’ Emma gasped. Though it did feel rather nice, being tucked against his broad chest.
‘Nonsense. Save your poor feet. Here we are then,’ he answered brusquely, opening the bedroom door and depositing her on the bed. ‘Polly, please see to your mistress. Cousin Emma, until the morning.’ He bowed and swiftly left the room, leaving Emma staring open-mouthed at the now-closed door.
She became aware of the maid, who was giving her a knowing smile.
‘Well…’ said Polly with a grin.
Richard strode back to his room, his pulse racing. And not all due to the exertion of carrying Emma up the stairs. What was coming over him? Another second and he would’ve been kissing her goodnight, despite the maid’s presence. He’d definitely told the truth when he’d said he hadn’t enjoyed an evening as much as the one spent with her. Their conversation had been stimulating and amusing. And also revealing. He’d guessed she was brave and determined. Now he knew her to be intelligent and educated. What a combination… and in such a beguiling package. He ran his fingers through his hair. Julia couldn’t arrive soon enough.
Chapter 5
The following day, Emma was woken by loud noises coming from downstairs. It had taken her an age to fall asleep the night before, with her mind tossing and turning all the events of the previous day. Her overriding anxiety was caused by the inevitable conclusion that someone was intent on destroying her family. Who and why? She’d racked her brains but could come up with no explanation. Perhaps Grandmamma would be able to shed some light.
The unsettling thoughts of Richard Lacey were another reason for her sleeplessness. The impulsive way in which he’d swept her upstairs had left her quite confused. To say her emotions were a little heightened that morning would’ve been a gross understatement. The experience had been quite overwhelming. But, she told herself, it probably meant nothing to him. He was just a man demonstrating that he could physically control a female.
She bristled as she lay in bed, recalling how he’d attempted to impose his will earlier in the day. True, he’d apologised, but wouldn’t he think it natural to exert control and have authority over the females in his life? Wasn’t that what all men expected? She’d seen with her own eyes what had happened to her mother, heard her mother’s words. Would never forget them.
Emma’s mind drifted back to her journey with her brother. While at times it’d been terrifying, it had also been liberating. She’d been in control, and she’d achieved something that a few months earlier she wouldn’t have dreamed herself capable of. She’d planned and made decisions – decisions that their lives had depended on – and they’d got through it. After years of being a biddable daughter whose opinions were either ignored or disdained by her father, it was exhilarating to know that she didn’t need a man’s guidance at all times. She had no desire to relinquish this heady feeling of controlling her own destiny at last. Emma smiled to herself. Yes, her new-found cousin was attractive – dangerously so – and on the surface, at least, totally unlike her father in his attitudes. She would have to be careful.
Emma swung her legs out of bed and peered at the clock on the mantelpiece. Its fingers pointed to half past ten. A light tap sounded on her door and Emma guiltily bade whoever it was to enter.
‘I thought you might be awake now, so I brought your hot water,’ said Polly, tripping into the room bearing a steaming pitcher. ‘You were fast asleep earlier, dead to the world, you were, miss. Didn’t stir at all, even when I dropped the poker.’ The maid grinned conspiratorially. ‘The dowager would’ve had my hide for that. Now, would you like me to bring you a bite to eat and drink, miss?’
‘No. I’ll wash and dress, then breakfast in the parlour. What is all the disturbance downstairs, by the way?’
Polly bobbed her head, full of excitement. ‘The master’s sister has arrived. Such a lovely-looking lady. She’s waiting in the drawing room for the master to return from his ride. The master’s valet and his man of business have also arrived, so we’re getting quite a houseful.’
Nervous at the prospect of meeting Cousin Richard’s sister, and wondering how much she should tell her, Emma made her way behind the screen to wash and brush her teeth. She put on another of the dresses that they’d discovered in the attics. This one was a high-waisted white cambric underdress with a matching long-sleeved overdress edged with blue and yellow ribbons. Polly had made good progress in shortening them all. Emma grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. Why hadn’t she thought to ask Cousin Richard for his sister’s married name last night? She’d been distracted, that’s why, and totally absorbed in talking with him and hearing about his life, quite forgetting that Julia might be arriving today. Quelling her nerves, Emma took a final look in the mirror to ensure she was presentable… or as presentable as was possible for someone sporting an impressive purple bruise and a dress meant for somebody blessed with a more Junoesque figure.
An elegantly dressed brunette was gazing pensively out of the French windows when Emma entered the drawing room. Emma, acutely aware of her own outdated and somewhat shabby appearance, resisted shrinking when the young woman turned to face her.
The young woman’s face, framed by chestnut curls, broke into a friendly smile, her brown eyes sparkling with the same good humour as her brother’s.
‘You must be the mysterious lady Richard wrote to me about.’ Her smiling expression turned to one of concern. ‘Oh dear, your poor face. How did you come by that bruise?’ Without waiting for an answer, the young lady pointed to the sofa. ‘Come and sit down next to me. I’m simply dying to hear all about you.’ Emma, overwhelmed by her new companion’s exuberance, meekly did as she was told. It was evident by Julia’s forthright manner that she was a lady accustomed to taking charge.
‘What, Julia, taking over already?’ came a familiar voice from the open doorway.
‘Richard!’ Julia rushed towards him, her arms outstretched. ‘You wretch, I’d only just arrived in London to join George when I got your missive. I abandoned my unpacking and set off immediately, leaving George on his own to take charge of David.’ Laughing up at her brother, she shook her head. ‘Goodness knows what they’ll get up to without my restraining influence. Now, what’s this all about? And do introduce us, my love.’
Richard, who was undoubtedly accustomed to his sister’s gushing manner, obliged.
‘Cousin Emma, may I present to you my sister, Mrs Julia Morton. Julia, this is Emma Smythe, sister to the current Viscount Easterby.’
Julia made a curtsey and turned and frowned at her brother. ‘But I thought… You wrote…’
Richard made a dismissive gesture.
‘Yes, I know, but it seems things are not as they first appeared. Come, join us for breakfast.’ He crooked his elbow for Emma to take and, with the other hand, tugged his sister towards the door. ‘I would hazard Mrs Henning has provided us with a wonderful repast judging by the marvellous smells wafting past my nose. I’m quite ravenous. Cousin Emma, I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet, have you?’
Once both ladies were seated at the table, Richard dismissed Wrighton and went over to the laden sideboard. ‘We can speak more freely on our own,’ he told them. ‘Well, Emma, what can I tempt you with – beefsteak, collops of bacon, sausages, kidneys, eggs? Or would you prefer some cold meats? Mrs Henning has really done us proud.’
Emma’s mouth was watering at the seductive smell of the bacon. She didn’t care how unladylike it was to eat more than birdlike portions in company; she was going to enjoy her first English breakfast in ages.
‘Oh, just some bacon, a sausage, and an egg, if you please. It’s been so long since I tasted an English breakfast. In Greece, we had yoghurt and honey. Nothing like this. I did miss it.’
Julia smiled, then her brow creased in a frown.
‘You’ve been living abroad in these troubled times?’
Emma nodded as she took the laden plate from Richard’s hands.
‘Yes, for almost eight years. We left here when I was seventeen, during the short-lived peace. Everybody was travelling then, so Papa deemed it was safe. We went briefly to Paris and then continued travelling south to the Italian states, then the Kingdom of Sicily. From there, we crossed to Patras and then southwards again into the Morea.’
Julia’s eyes sparked with interest.
‘Goodness me. Did you visit Athens? I’ve heard that it’s very beautiful.’
‘No. I’ve never been there.’ Emma’s voice was tinged with regret as she answered – she’d always harboured a desire to see Athens. ‘We lived in a small village on the southern coast. Father’s passion was archaeology but, according to him, Athens was far too crowded with other enthusiasts. He wanted to make his own discoveries. He’d heard rumours of a promising site in the Morea and decided that he would locate and document it.’ She sighed. ‘That is what kept us there for so long.’ She didn’t mention that he’d led them to several other prospective sites before he’d made his big discovery, ignoring all her mother’s entreaties for them to return home. Or their impove
rished existence there.
Julia’s cup of coffee halted on its way to her mouth.
‘Surely that was quite dangerous, was it not? I’ve heard that the land there is somewhat lawless. The Greeks resent being subject to Ottoman rule, and there are frequent insurrections. Were you not afraid?’
Emma swallowed. How could she frame an answer that didn’t make Father sound like he’d been obstinate and single-minded in the extreme? Even though it was the truth.
‘I… I don’t think Father ever thought about the danger, not really…’ Seeing the look of shock on Julia’s face, she quickly added, ‘Oh, he always looked after us as best he could, and fortunately we did not encounter any troubles. I had some misgivings, of course, but the village where we stayed was friendly. My real fears were for Jamie when we were left on our own. I knew it was my responsibility to get him home safely.’
Emma’s eyes flicked to Richard who’d stopped what he was doing at the sideboard and was giving her a curious look.
‘We found people ready to help us. Our housekeeper Ariadne had family who saw us safely to Gibraltar where we then took a ship back to England.’ She forced a bright smile. ‘And now here we are.’
A grim-faced Richard turned back to filling plates. He found himself cursing the late Charles Smythe for being so outstandingly selfish. Honestly, the man must’ve had windmills in his head. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was already dead, Richard would quite happily have throttled him. A shudder went through him as he considered how Emma and Jamie had come so close to disaster, and it took an effort of will to compose himself before he returned to the table. He placed a plate in front of his sister.
A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1) Page 5
