Lord Stewart’s expression was unreadable. Nor could she glean anything from the tone of his voice, when, moving to stand beside the fireplace, he said, ‘I did not expect you to honour us with a performance, Miss Darling.’
‘I did not say I was unable to play, my lord,’ Emma said evenly. ‘Only that I do not play as well as I paint. Nor do I sing as well as my sister, whose performance you just missed.’
‘Then I hope we may prevail upon Miss Linette to sing for us again. But we should regret not hearing you play first.’
Equally sure he wouldn’t have cared had she left immediately after dinner, Emma turned her attention back to the piano. Normally, she would have quailed at having to perform in front of such dignified company, but having recently discovered a piece by Bach that she liked very much, and having spent more time than usual practising it while at Aunt Augusta’s house, Emma had managed to imprint the score firmly in her mind. Now, after giving herself a few minutes to recall the intricate opening, she placed her fingers upon the keys and began to play.
Music rolled forth. Not sweet and sentimental like Linette’s ‘Greensleeves,’ but strong and powerful, the melody filling the room. It was one of passion and unrequited love, and on the exquisite instrument the notes rang true and clear. For once, Emma forgot about her audience and lost herself in the music. She had never performed on such a marvellous instrument before and she was astonished at how well the piece sounded. As she brought her hands down on the final chords, her heart was beating hard, her exhilaration at having executed the complicated piece without a mistake bringing an unexpected glow of triumph to her cheeks.
There was a moment’s stunned silence. Then, enthusiastic applause broke out as Emma rose to take her bows. She saw a variety of expressions on the faces turned towards her. On her father’s, pride, pure and simple. On her aunt’s, pride mingled with relief, and on Linette’s, astonished admiration. Peter Taylor’s mouth was open and Lady Widdicombe was staring at her in disbelief.
Only Lord Stewart’s expression bore no indication of surprise. ‘You did not tell us the truth of your ability, Miss Darling. Seldom have I heard that piece played better or with more emotion.’
‘Indeed, I believe you were having sport with us, Miss Darling,’ Peter said. ‘I vow she would give Lady Glynnis a run for her money. What say you, Alex?’
‘I’d say Miss Darling could hold her own with anyone,’ he answered evenly. ‘Well done, Miss Darling.’
‘Indeed, Emma, well done!’ Linette said with unconcealed joy.
Emma politely inclined her head, grateful for the praise, but more relieved that she hadn’t made a fool of herself in front of everyone in the room. She’d told herself when she’d sat down at the piano that she had wanted to make a good showing for Linette’s sake and that she hadn’t played the piece to impress anyone, but that wasn’t entirely true.
She had wanted to make a good impression. She had wanted to impress him.
‘Thank you, but it is one of the few pieces I play well,’ she said. ‘As indicated earlier, my repertoire is extremely limited.’
‘If you were only to play that one piece, you would find yourself welcome in any drawing room,’ Lord Stewart said.
The subtle words of praise had Emma raising her eyes to his; something she immediately came to regret. She didn’t want him thinking she cared, any more than she was willing to admit she did.
‘Play something else, Miss Darling,’ Peter implored. ‘You must have at least one other song with which to entertain us.’
‘What about “The Merry Piper”?’ Aunt Dorothy suggested.
Emma nodded. ‘Only if Linette will sing.’
Not surprisingly, Linette was delighted to sing and because they had performed the duet so many times, Emma knew they acquitted themselves well. The music was lovely and Linette’s sweet soprano voice made easy work of the lyrics. At the conclusion, they were again met with enthusiastic applause.
‘I say, the two of you must perform for our guests at the ball,’ Peter said. ‘I don’t believe I have ever heard a lovelier duet.’
‘Nonsense, Peter, musicians have already been engaged,’ his mother said. ‘It is hardly the thing for your…fiancée and her sister to entertain.’
‘In that case, I am delighted we were treated to the performance tonight.’ He moved to stand beside Linette and taking her hand, raised it to his lips. ‘Did I not tell you she was the most beautiful, the most gifted, the most remarkable young lady of my acquaintance?’
Emma hastily averted her eyes from the lovestruck look on her future brother-in-law’s face and promptly locked gazes with Lord Stewart—whose expression was anything but lovestruck. What was he thinking as he watched the pretty scene unfold? That it was hopelessly romantic? An emotional embarrassment? Was he counting the minutes until he could politely slip away? The half-smile on his lips might be one of amusement, but it could just as easily signify boredom or contempt. He didn’t strike Emma as the type of man who would find pleasure in such simple drawing-room entertainments.
‘Well done, dearest,’ Aunt Dorothy whispered as Emma sat back down beside her. ‘Your father and I could not be more proud.’
Emma managed a fleeting smile, aware of being able to breathe a little easier now that the performance was over. But she was far from happy with her silly need to impress Peter’s brother. Of what concern was it to her what he thought of her? The man was attractive, wealthy and heir to an earldom. He was no doubt used to women falling at his feet and to singing his praises in the hopes of attracting his attention.
Emma had no intention of becoming one of those women. She was not some simple-minded female easily swayed by good looks and an impressive title. She judged a man on the strength of his convictions, on the fairness of his mind and on the kindness of his words. What she had seen of Lord Stewart tonight was a man assessing a situation. One who had likely been asked to pass judgement on Linette and possibly on the rest of her family as well. Because when a man married, his bride’s family became his family. Her assets became his assets. And her liabilities became his liabilities.
Was that what Lord Stewart had been sent here to find out? Emma wondered. The extent of the liability his brother was really taking on?
Chapter Three
Not surprisingly, a great deal of speculation followed the dinner at Ellingsworth Hall. Linette suffered alternating bouts of exhilaration and despair over what Lady Widdicombe’s and Lord Stewart’s feelings about her might have been, for while she was encouraged by her performance on the piano, she was equally convinced that her conversation at dinner had fallen far short of what was expected and that their impressions of her had been tainted as a result.
Naturally, Aunt Dorothy was of the opinion that Linette had done splendidly and that, in her estimation, the evening had been an unmitigated success. She declared the countess to be far more gracious than expected, that Lord Stewart was an elegant and handsome gentleman, and that Mr Taylor was exactly the type of man one might wish to have as a son-in-law.
Mr Darling was more reserved in his comments. Though he didn’t say as much, Emma knew he believed that the real test of Linette’s suitability would come during the weekend house party when many of Mr Taylor’s friends and family would be in attendance and far more judgmental eyes would be focused on Linette than had been thus far.
In that, Emma tended to agree. Though Lady Widdicombe had been intimidating at the onset, by the end of the evening she had mellowed enough to give Linette a nod of approval and to tell her that she had played the pianoforte very nicely. Society, however, would take a far more critical view of the engagement and Emma felt sure there would be people at the ball who would be of the opinion that Mr Taylor could have done better. She feared a combination of ill will and jealousy would come together in the form of spiteful remarks that were neither fair nor warranted being directed towards Linette.
All of that she kept to herself, of course. Linette was anxious enough abo
ut the upcoming ball; there was no point in making matters worse by pointing out things that might happen. Besides, Emma had concerns enough of her own—not the least of which was the fact that the upcoming house party would again place her in the company of Lord Stewart.
She wished she could have said the thought didn’t bother her, but she knew it for the half-truth that it was. The man unsettled her, arousing emotions and feelings she was not at all comfortable with. Several times throughout the dinner, she had felt his eyes on her and had looked up to find him watching her, as though hoping to find something lacking in her make-up.
It must have been that because she refused to believe it had anything to do with his interest in her as a woman. Not when he was all but engaged to a lady whose blood was as blue as his. But was he wondering, perhaps, if she thought to gain notoriety from her sister’s success? To use Linette’s connection to Peter as a way to move into better society herself?
The unpleasant speculation no doubt accounted for the terseness of her reply when Linette chanced to ask her about the gentleman as they strolled through the garden a few days later. ‘What did I think of Lord Stewart?’ Emma said. ‘Why would you ask?’
‘No particular reason.’ Linette bent down to lift a slow-moving caterpillar off the path and settled him gently in the grass. ‘I simply noticed him watching you throughout the evening and wondered what your opinions of him were.’
Emma took a deep breath. So Linette had noticed it too. ‘I thought him…pleasant.’
‘Nothing more?’
‘What else would you have me say?’
‘That he was exactly what he seemed. Handsome, charming and highly intimidating.’
‘You found him intimidating?’
‘Never tell me you did not?’
‘I thought him serious, but hardly intimidating.’ Emma drew her shawl more closely about her shoulders. ‘But he is very different from his brother. Your Mr Taylor is certainly the more light-hearted of the two.’
‘Yes, thank goodness. And now that you have spent an evening with him, do you not agree that he is wonderful, Emma?’ Linette said, her face alight with love and happiness. ‘I am convinced I am marrying the perfect man.’
Equally convinced there was no such thing, Emma said, ‘I think the two of you will be very happy together.’
After a pause, Linette said, ‘I wonder what Lady Glynnis will be like.’
‘Lady Glynnis?’
‘The young woman Lord Stewart is going to marry. Don’t you remember? The countess seemed very pleased about the match.’
‘I expect she would, given Lady Glynnis’s position in society,’ Emma said. ‘As Lord Widdicombe’s heir, it is Lord Stewart’s duty to marry well.’
‘It sounds as though she is very accomplished on the pianoforte.’
‘I suspect the lady is accomplished in all areas of feminine endeavour. He would not have chosen her otherwise.’
‘Do you think he loves her?’ Linette asked.
Emma laughed. ‘Good Lord, Linette, how am I to know that?’
‘Well, did he strike you as the type of man who would marry for love?’
‘I’ve no idea. I spoke to him briefly and in no great depth. You were there the entire time.’
‘I know, but you are so much more perceptive about people than I. You see things I do not.’
‘That is not always a good thing.’
‘Well, perhaps we will know when we see the two of them together.’ Linette fell into step beside her. ‘You can always tell when two people are in love.’
‘Oh yes?’ Emma said, chuckling. ‘And how do you do that?’
‘The lady blushes and the man looks as though his heart is lost to all but her. They stand close together, even when there is no reason to do so, and they frequently exchange glances. Especially when they think no one is watching.’
‘Gudgeon. You are making all of this up.’
‘No, it’s true!’ Linette said with feeling. ‘I saw Penelope Faith and Sir Wensley Cottonwood acting like that at the Parthingers’ ball and they were betrothed the following week!’
‘I cannot imagine Lord Stewart looking at any lady with stars in his eyes,’ Emma said. ‘He doesn’t strike me as the type. Mr Taylor looks at you that way, but his temperament is vastly different from his brother’s.’
‘Yes, thank goodness. I think I am a little frightened of Lord Stewart, for all his being so handsome and charming,’ Linette admitted. ‘Nevertheless, it will be interesting to see him with Lady Glynnis on Friday evening. After all, if she is to be my sister-in-law, I do want her to like me.’
Impulsively, Emma stopped and hugged her sister close. ‘No one can help but like you, dearest. You are the sweetest, gentlest, most kind-hearted person I know. If Lady Glynnis does not like you, we shall simply not like her.’
‘That will not make for very pleasant family gatherings,’ Linette said unhappily.
‘I shouldn’t worry about it.’ Emma slipped her arm through her sister’s. ‘I doubt Lord Stewart is all that fond of country living. Once he and Lady Glynnis are married, we likely won’t see either of them around Little Moreton for quite some time.’
* * *
Emma was seated at the far end of the garden when she noticed the horse and rider approaching from the direction of Ellingsworth Hall later that same day. The horse did not look to be of local stock. Big boned and with long, delicate legs and a proud arch to its neck, it was clearly a thoroughbred and therefore well beyond the reach of most of the young men who resided in Little Moreton.
As to the rider, Emma suspected it was Peter Taylor come to pay a call on her sister. Linette had informed her that he often stopped by for afternoon visits now they were officially betrothed, and, unconcerned, Emma went back to her painting. The sun was creating a fascinating interplay of light and shadow on the lily pond, and the ever-shifting patterns of blue and green were far more interesting to her than the gentleman coming to call. And when a dragonfly landed on the edge of a lily pad, the insect’s huge silver wings shimmering in the sunlight, Emma caught her breath.
How did one capture something so magical? What colours did one use to replicate the translucence of its wings and the iridescent shading of its body? She thought about that for a while, mixing colours in her mind, and reached down for her palette—only to see a pair of dark-brown boots standing in the grass a few feet away.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Darling.’
Emma knew the voice. Having heard it at dinner, she would have recognised it anywhere. But it was the last one she had been expecting to hear in her garden today. ‘Good afternoon, Lord Stewart.’ She raised her head and peered at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. ‘If you are looking for my father, you will find him in the house, most likely in his study.’
‘Thank you, but it was you I came to see.’
‘Oh?’
‘I wondered if we might have a chat. If you do not mind me singling you out.’
‘That would depend on what you were singling me out for.’
‘I wish to talk to you about a matter of considerable importance.’
‘Oh dear, that does sound alarming.’ Emma put down her brush. ‘Pray, forgive my attire. I was not expecting visitors.’
‘No apologies are necessary. You look charming.’
Emma was too much of a lady to roll her eyes, but she was sorely tempted to do so given how easily the lies fell from his tongue. She was wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat with ribbons tied loosely beneath her chin, a painter’s smock liberally smudged with paint, and though her hair was pinned up, she could feel the breeze tugging at loose wisps. Charming was decidedly not how she would have described her appearance. Still, he hadn’t come with a view to courting her.
‘Very well, Lord Stewart, you have my undivided attention. What is this important matter you wish to talk to me about?’
‘Your sister, my brother and the unfortunate inequity of the match.’
Emma’s ey
es widened in shock. Mercy! The man certainly didn’t beat around the bush. ‘You will forgive me if I say I am somewhat taken aback by the remark, my lord.’
‘I would have been more surprised had you said you were expecting it,’ Lord Stewart acknowledged. ‘But it is a subject I believe warrants further discussion.’
‘I fail to see why. The inequity of the match obviously wasn’t of concern to your brother when he asked Linette to marry him.’
‘Of course not. My brother is romantic by nature and more impulsive than is wise.’
‘Attributes shared by my sister, I’m afraid.’ Emma looked up, shading her eyes with her hand. ‘But what’s done is done, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘Forgive me,’ he said, belatedly aware that his position was causing her to stare directly into the sun. ‘Perhaps we could take a walk?’
‘As you like.’ Emma put her brushes into a pot of water, then stood up and removed her smock. ‘You do not tether your horse?’ she asked, looking past him to the elegant thoroughbred grazing freely beyond.
‘There is no need. He never wanders.’ Lord Stewart stared at the easel for a moment. ‘Impressive. You have a knack for blending colours so that they seem to melt into one another.’
‘It is an attribute of watercolours. If a line is drawn too harshly, you simply brush a wash over it and the line softens. It is a very forgiving medium.’
‘Only to those who know how to use it.’ Lord Stewart smiled. ‘You obviously do.’
It was a new and unusual experience to be complimented by a gentleman. Emma was used to most of the flattery going to Linette, but she had to admit to a warm glow of pleasure at hearing Lord Stewart praise her work. ‘Thank you, but I am an amateur at best. My brother is the true artist in the family.’ She fell into step beside him. ‘So, you wish to talk about the unsuitability of the match between Linette and your brother.’
‘Please don’t misunderstand, Miss Darling,’ he said quickly. ‘Your sister is a lovely young woman with pleasing manners and a charming personality. But you cannot deny the disparity in their social situations.’
Improper Miss Darling Page 4
