She wasn’t in love with Alexander Taylor. She admired and respected him, yes, but she certainly wasn’t in love with him. True love took months to develop, sometimes even years. She had known Alex less than two weeks! Obviously, she had been caught up in a girlish infatuation and swept away by his dashing good looks. She wasn’t proud of that, but at least she could explain it. And she could forgive herself for it, as Mr Tufton advised.
‘Excellent sermon, Mr Tufton,’ Mr Darling said as he greeted the vicar on the steps of the church. ‘Always a thought-provoking topic, forgiveness.’
Mr Tufton smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘Thank you, Mr Darling. I have always thought so.’ He turned to Emma and smiled. ‘I hope you enjoyed the sermon, Miss Darling?’
‘I did, Mr Tufton, very much. It came at a most appropriate time.’
She gave him a warmer smile than she had in the past and was surprised to see his cheeks redden. ‘Yes, well, I like to think my words help many people through difficult or challenging times,’ he said. ‘Ah, good morning, Lady Widdicombe. Lord Stewart. Mr Taylor.’
‘Good morning, Vicar,’ Lady Widdicombe said. ‘Excellent sermon.’
‘Thank you, your ladyship.’
‘Mr Darling,’ the countess said, turning to regard Emma’s father. ‘I am pleased to see that you and your family honour the Sabbath.’
‘We always have, Lady Widdicombe,’ Mr Darling replied. ‘Sunday is a day for quiet reflection and contemplation. To thank the Lord for all He has given us. Speaking of which, how does the earl go on?’
‘I believe he is feeling better,’ Lady Widdicombe said. ‘I had a letter from his physician yesterday and he seems quite pleased with my husband’s progress.’
‘Then it is possible he may be here for the ball?’ Linette asked impulsively.
Emma spared a glance for her sister’s hopeful face, before looking at Alex. She was surprised to see compassion rather than annoyance reflected there. ‘I’m sure if he is feeling well enough to attend, he will be here, Miss Linette.’
‘Of course he will,’ Peter said, reaching for her hand. ‘Nothing would please him more. Mr Darling, may I have the pleasure of walking your daughter home?’
‘I have no objection if Linette does not,’ Mr Darling said.
Linette beamed. ‘I would like it very much. Good day, Lady Widdicombe, Lord Stewart.’
On the heels of their departure, Lady Widdicombe set off in the carriage and Mr Darling resumed his conversation with Mr Tufton, Aunt Dorothy went to speak to Mrs Brown and her daughter, Cynthia, and Emma found herself alone with Alex.
‘Are you feeling better, Miss Darling?’ he asked in a casual tone.
‘Much better, thank you.’ Buoyed by the strength of Mr Tufton’s words and by her new awareness of how silly her brief infatuation was, Emma offered him a genuinely warm and engaging smile. ‘I am most grateful for your kindness last night, Lord Stewart. I hope it did not delay your departure from the assembly for too long.’
He looked down at her and shook his head. ‘The moment I returned I was set upon by Mrs Jacobs and Mrs Connelly, both enquiring after your health. Word of your accident seems to have spread throughout the village, and when they noticed you looking so pale, they were concerned that you might have suffered a relapse. I was called upon to give my medical assessment of the situation.’
Emma frowned. ‘But you’re not a doctor.’
‘As you and I know, however, they questioned me as though I was and I assured them that you had revived somewhat upon venturing into the cooler night air and that I was sure you would be feeling much better by the morning. So, as you can see, my time was fully occupied until my carriage returned.’
Emma smiled. ‘I heard you were also kept very busy on the dance floor. The residents of Little Moreton cannot stop talking about the assembly. Indeed, I suspect it will be the topic of conversation for months to come.’
His mouth lifted at one side, making him look somewhat rakish. ‘I’m sure it will grow tedious long before then. But I shall remember the evening too, Emma…’ he looked at her and his smile changed ‘… though I venture to say for reasons far different than anyone else’s.’
And just like that, Emma’s newfound conviction vanished. He couldn’t have been more clear had he said the words aloud, and her heart ached within her breast. ‘Well, I had best be returning home. Good day, Lord Stewart.’
‘Emma.’ He put his hand out, stopping her. ‘There’s no one around. No one to overhear us.’
‘I know.’ Emma knew exactly what he was referring to. She glanced in the direction of her father and the vicar, relieved to see that they were still enjoying their conversation. ‘But I think it better that we maintain a more formal distance between us.’
‘Better for whom?’
‘For everyone.’ She gently disengaged her arm. ‘Life is complicated enough, my lord. It will not benefit either of us to complicate it any further.’
She didn’t wait for his answer, but turned and started in the direction of Dove’s Hollow. It was over a mile and her father would no doubt question her decision to walk home, but at the moment, she needed to be alone. She needed time to sort through her feelings.
In a little less than a week, she would be seeing Alex again, but this time, it would be in the company of Lady Glynnis Pettle. The woman he was going to marry. If she did not ready herself for that, if she was not mentally prepared for the sight of Alex with another woman, she didn’t know how she would be able to bear it. She was already so confused, so out of her depth.
‘… I shall remember the evening too, Emma, though…for reasons far different than anyone else’s…’
What was he saying? That he, too, had enjoyed the time they had spent alone in the carriage? That he remembered with fondness the intimacy of caressing her feet and calves? Surely that was wrong. Surely a man in his position knew what he invited by dwelling on such memories. He certainly knew better than anyone the impossibility of their relationship. Was he not the one who had counselled her to have Linette end her engagement to his brother on the grounds of her unsuitability? And Peter wasn’t even the heir. The future of the line didn’t depend on him. It depended on Alex. What possible chance could there ever be of the two of them having a life together?
More to the point, why was she suddenly beginning to think that she was not the only one asking that question?
* * *
After a bruising ride across the hills, Alex returned to the stables at Ellingsworth no happier than when he’d left. He had striven to banish all thought from his mind by flinging himself and his mount at hedges and turnstiles with a careless abandon not at all in keeping with his usual sense of responsibility. But even then he’d found no peace. He didn’t even know why his mood was so foul. Only that it was and that it hadn’t been improved by the sight of Emma smile so engagingly at Mr Tufton this morning. Surely it was not her intention to encourage the man. Surely she knew she could do a thousand times better than a simple country parson.
And yet, why the hell should he care? If she wanted to marry the local butcher, that was entirely up to her. He hadn’t any more say in who she married than did a fly. Because his future was settled…or would be as soon as he asked Glynnis to marry him.
‘Give him a good rub down,’ he said to the stable lad who came running out. ‘And an extra ration of oats. He deserves it.’
The young lad tugged the edge of his cap, then turned to lead the steaming bay into the stable. Alex headed in the direction of the house, his thoughts on Glynnis as an image of her face appeared in his mind. He’d always thought her beautiful, with those aristocratic features, lithe, slender body, and bright, golden hair. It was longer than Emma’s and fell in a shimmering ribbon almost to her waist.
By contrast, Emma’s hair was shorter and far less disciplined. Wispy tendrils all too often escaped to dance around her face, blowing across her eyes and cheeks so that she constantly had to push them back. The
colour was darker, too. Richer.
He tried to remember the colour of Glynnis’s eyes, but all he kept seeing were Emma’s: that soft, melting brown, reminiscent of molten chocolate. And when she smiled, dimples popped out in both cheeks. He didn’t think Glynnis had dimples, though he couldn’t be sure.
He couldn’t be sure of anything any more…
‘Alex, dear, did you have a good ride?’
Alex turned to see his mother approaching and quickly marshalled his thoughts. ‘I did, thank you. I’d forgotten how beautiful the countryside around here is.’
‘I’ve always thought it the most picturesque in England,’ Lady Widdicombe said. ‘But then I grew up not far from here so my roots are in Hampshire.’ She tilted her head to one side and looked at him. ‘What’s wrong? You seem unsettled.’
‘Do I?’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Maybe it’s just everything that’s going on between Peter and Father. I don’t like to think of them at odds with one another.’
‘I know. It makes me unhappy too.’ His mother sighed. ‘As a child, Peter adored your father. And Richard couldn’t spend enough time with him. He loved carrying Peter on his shoulders. You never liked being carried. You preferred to walk beside him.’
‘I did?’
‘Mmm. Said you were too big to be carried. That you might hurt him.’
Alex tried to remember those days, but they were lost in the annals of time. ‘Is it truly such a bad thing, Peter marrying Linette Darling?’ Alex asked. ‘She is a lovely girl and the family seems respectable enough.’
His mother sighed. ‘I know. I’ve tried to find something to object to in Linette’s conduct, but I really cannot. The older girl is a touch bold and a little odd, but Linette is quite sweet and I’ve come to like her very much. And when I see her and Peter together…’ The countess pressed her lips together, tears forming in her eyes. ‘I love him so much, Alex,’ she whispered. ‘I just want him to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Especially after…what happened.’
Alex nodded and drew his mother into his arms. Few people knew the story of Peter’s childhood accident. It was one the family had taken pains to conceal, but it burned in his mother’s heart like acid. Because on the one day she had left Peter alone in the nursery, the unthinkable had happened. She had only been gone a moment, but it was long enough for the little boy to have climbed out of his crib and fallen down.
He hadn’t cried. He had knocked himself unconscious. And when his mother had come back in and seen him lying motionless on the stone floor, she had believed him dead and started screaming.
Naturally, the servants had come running. They had stood in the doorway, horrified by the sight of the countess clutching her youngest son in her arms, his body limp, his eyes closed, blood pouring from a gash on his face.
Thankfully, the diagnosis had been good. Peter had suffered a mild concussion, but he had regained consciousness soon after and had gone on to lead a normal healthy life. But the memory of that scare and the knowledge that, because of her inattention, her youngest son could have died stayed with Lady Widdicombe all through the years. It was the reason she could deny him nothing. Whatever Peter needed to make him happy, she was more than willing to give.
‘This can’t be helping matters between you and Father,’ Alex said, knowing it wasn’t the first time his parents had experienced differing opinions when it came to Peter.
‘It isn’t, but we are dealing with it as best we can.’ She straightened, and pulled away. ‘Your father doesn’t understand why I cannot see his side in this. Why I won’t stand with him in refusing to allow Peter to marry Linette. But I cannot.’ She turned bright eyes towards Alex. ‘I simply cannot.’
‘I understand. But if Father chooses to make matters difficult for them, there won’t be much any of us can do. He could revoke Peter’s allowance and leave him without anything upon which to live. And given that Peter hasn’t shown any inclination towards the law or the church, he will have no occupation.’
‘I know,’ his mother whispered. ‘I would give him some of my own money, but your father would be furious and that would only make matters worse.’ She hung her head. ‘I really don’t know what the answer is, Alex. I don’t know what to do.’
‘Well, why don’t we see how matters go over the weekend?’ Alex suggested. ‘Everyone is coming to celebrate the engagement so the mood should be festive. Besides, Glynnis will be here; if she speaks favourably about Linette to Father, perhaps it will be enough to change his mind.’
‘That would be a blessing,’ his mother agreed. ‘Your father has always been so fond of Lady Glynnis. She’s like a daughter to him.’ She shook her head. ‘If only Peter had been able to find someone like that, everything would have been so much easier.’ She laughed softly. ‘I’ve often thought it a pity Glynnis didn’t have a sister.’
‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ Alex murmured. ‘Though there’s no saying she would have turned out as well as Glynnis.’
‘No, that’s true. And there is no point wishing for the impossible,’ the countess said. ‘At least we know you are going to make a marriage of which your father approves. He keeps asking if I know when you plan to propose. Naturally I’ve said that’s up to you. But I know he’s looking forward to it.’
Alex nodded, trying not to allow an image of Emma’s face to intrude. As his mother said, there was nothing to be gained by wishing for the impossible. ‘I thought to ask her after the house party,’ he said. ‘Perhaps when we all return to London.’
‘That would be wonderful, darling. I know it will make your father so happy. Both of us, really. I’ve always liked Glynnis. Such a sensible, down-to-earth girl. Well, I suppose I’d best get back to work. There are still many things to do before the weekend. Thank you, Alex,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve always been so strong. You stand firm while the rest of us crumble. No wonder your father’s so proud of you.’ She raised her hand and brushed it across his cheek. ‘And in case I haven’t said it lately, so am I.’
* * *
All too soon, the weekend arrived and with it the ball to celebrate Peter and Linette’s betrothal. Guests began arriving early on the Friday afternoon, or so Emma was informed by Mrs Connelly when she went into the village to purchase a length of lace. Of course, Mrs Connelly was in the perfect position to see the carriages as they rumbled through town, given that her shop fronted on to the main street. Some had borne elaborate coats of arms, while others were just very stylish as they clipped along behind teams of matched black, grey, or brown horses.
And of course, the occupants had been very fashionably turned out, Mrs Connelly had assured Emma. She had caught glimpses of stylish bonnets and elegant travelling gowns in many of the carriages, and such handsome gentlemen riding such very fine horses! It was clearly going to be a very exciting weekend. And to think it was all in honour of little Linette and that Emma’s entire family were going to be there. Wasn’t she just beside herself with excitement?
Emma had smiled, agreed that she could scarcely think straight and had then taken her leave. Mrs Connelly would have given her right arm to be a guest at the betrothal ball, but that honour had been reserved for invited guests only. While a general invitation had gone out to the residents of Little Moreton to attend the outdoor festivities planned for tomorrow, only family and friends would be in attendance at the grand ball tonight.
Mrs Connelly would have to be satisfied with that.
* * *
As expected, by the time Emma got home, Linette was in a rare state of nerves. Several times throughout the afternoon, Emma had to repeat herself as a result of her sister staring off into space, oblivious to what was going on around her. She was terrified of the evening ahead and there seemed to be nothing Emma or Aunt Dorothy could say that could change how she felt.
Emma had to admit she wasn’t looking forward to the evening either. Thanks to the summer she had spent in London, she
was more at ease with strangers than her sister, but she knew that many of the guests would be titled and that all of them would be well to do. At such a gathering, her family would naturally be out of their league. If they managed to acquit themselves with only a few faux pas, Emma would think them lucky.
As a result, she took more care with her appearance than usual and at the last minute had decided not to wear her favourite gown of white India muslin, but to bring out a new dress she hadn’t worn before. The gown of pale ivory shot through with gold thread had been a present from Aunt Dorothy, brought with her from London for Emma to wear during her stay in Bath. But because it was far more daring than the gowns Emma usually wore, she hadn’t taken it with her.
Now she put it on and gasped at the amount of smooth white skin visible above the neckline. It was bordered in two inches of the finest lace but it was also far more revealing than anything she’d ever worn before and the sight of her breasts all but popping out over the top took some getting used to.
‘Oh, Miss Emma, what a beautiful gown!’ her maid said. ‘You’ll surely be turning heads, looking like that.’
Emma glanced at the girl, wishing she felt a little more confident and a little less exposed. ‘Are you sure, Jane? It does seem a trifle…immodest.’
‘Of course it does, miss, but that’s what all the fine ladies are wearing in London.’
Yes, judging by the latest magazines Aunt Dorothy had been reading, it was—which meant it was also what most of the ladies at Ellingsworth would be wearing tonight.
With that in mind, Emma decided to grin and bear it—literally. She even allowed Jane to arrange her hair in a more elaborate style than usual. Fortunately, the girl was as much an artist with a brush and comb as Ridley was with his paints, and the upswept hairstyle, fastened with a pearl-studded comb that had belonged to Emma’s great-grandmother, could not have been more flattering. With excitement lending a natural blush to her cheeks, Emma knew she looked her best. But would it be enough for the discerning eyes of Lord and Lady Widdicombe and their guests?
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