He paused, trying to gauge her mood. ‘Is there…anything else that’s making you unhappy?’

Her sudden flush gave him his answer, but all she said was, ‘No. Why should there be?’

He took a step closer. He couldn’t go on pretending that he didn’t care. ‘Perhaps because you are not the only one forced to keep painful secrets.’

Her eyes widened. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t you? You must know I’m drawn to you, Emma. That I think about you … far too much.’

He watched her eyes darken in pain. ‘Lord Stewart, this is not a good idea.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said quietly. ‘My father asked me to counsel my brother as to the unsuitability of his relationship with your sister. I shudder to think what he would say if he knew I was also having to counsel myself against my feelings … for you.’

It had to happen. Perhaps it had been building to this right from the start. But the inevitability of the kiss still left Emma breathless. She watched Alex slowly take a step towards her, felt the warmth of his hands as they closed around her upper arms, and watched his head bend towards her with unmistakable intent.

AUTHOR NOTE

Longing. What a powerful emotion it is. The desire for something—or someone—you cannot have.

Today, there is very little stopping two people from being together, but in the Regency there were an endless number of obstacles standing in their way. Class distinction and the obligations owed to one’s family. A gentleman’s code of honour—for his promise, once given, was not lightly withdrawn. Not without incurring the wrath of his family and the condemnation of Society.

Such is the dilemma facing Alexander, Viscount Stewart, and Emma Darling, the woman with whom he falls in love. A woman he cannot have without losing the respect of his father, the affection of the woman he is promised to, and the good opinion of the Society in which he moves.

IMPROPER MISS DARLING is not a contemporary love story. It is a story about falling in love with the wrong person at the wrong time. It is a Regency love story. And it is about what two people desperately in love will risk to be together.

Enjoy!

About the Author

GAIL WHITIKER was born on the west coast of Wales and moved to Canada at an early age. Though she grew up reading everything from John Wyndham to Victoria Holt, frequent trips back to Wales inspired a fascination with castles and history, so it wasn’t surprising that her first published book would be set in Regency England. Now an award-winning author of both historical and contemporary novels, Gail lives on Vancouver Island, where she continues to indulge her fascination with the past as well as enjoying travel, music, and spectacular scenery. Visit Gail at www.gailwhitiker.com

Previous novels by this author:

A MOST IMPROPER PROPOSAL* THE GUARDIAN’S DILEMMA* A SCANDALOUS COURTSHIP A MOST UNSUITABLE BRIDE A PROMISE TO RETURN COURTING MISS VALLOIS BRUSHED BY SCANDAL

*part of The Steepwood Scandal mini-series

Did you know that some of these novels

are also available as eBooks?

Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Improper

Miss Darling

Gail Whitiker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Donna Baspaly.

A gifted artist, a wonderful friend,

and a truly remarkable woman.

Chapter One

The three letters arrived on Lord Stewart’s desk within a few days of one another. Each had been written in the author’s own distinct style and each was intended to sway the reader to the writer’s assessment of a situation never before encountered: the unexpected engagement of Alex’s younger brother, Peter, to a young lady unknown to his family or to society at large.

The letter from his father, the earl, had been typically bombastic—a strongly worded missive condemning his youngest son’s behaviour, throwing out words like duty and obligation and saying that such conduct was not at all in keeping with what he expected from a member of his own family.

The letter from his mother had been more gently phrased, blaming the error of Peter’s ways on the impulsiveness of his nature and pleading with Alex to intervene before it caused irreparable rifts within the family.

But the third and most heartwrenching letter had been written by Peter himself; a desperate outpouring of emotion inspired by his love for the lady to whom he had blithely pledged his troth, along with a request for Alex’s support in light of his father’s blatant disapproval and his mother’s resultant unhappiness.

All Alex could think of as he reread the three letters was how remarkable it was that a single engagement could have spawned such a wide and diverse range of reactions.

Still, he supposed it was only to be expected. Peter might not be first in line for the title, but he was still the Earl of Widdicombe’s son, and their father always had been a stickler for propriety. No episodes of drunkenness, excessive gambling, or contracting of unsuitable marriages had ever been permitted to tarnish the family name. Alex’s ancestors prided themselves on their ability to rise above such weaknesses, eschewing the vices that had crippled so many other noble families. They had been responsible family men and landowners for centuries, and, in time, Alex would follow in their footsteps and take up the role he had been groomed for from birth. Peter would likely settle into religion or law, either being an acceptable occupation for the younger son of a peer, and both would marry ladies of high birth and exceptional breeding suitable to producing children worthy of carrying on the line.

At least, that had been the expectation until Peter had done the unthinkable by betrothing himself to an unknown girl from the country, who, in his father’s words, … while no doubt possessed of a pretty face, has absolutely nothing else to recommend her …

Now it seemed the entire family was looking to Alex for a resolution, and time was of the essence since Peter was planning a family dinner for the coming week, followed by a grand ball and gathering two weeks after that at Ellingsworth Hall, his recently acquired country estate. And while Alex wasn’t sure anyone was up to the task of smoothing an entire family’s ruffled feathers in so short a time, he realised he was probably in the best position to try. If there was one thing at which he did excel, it was cutting through the layers of emotional chaos to get to the heart of the problem and resolve it before any lasting or serious damage could be done.

‘Godfrey, have I anything of importance scheduled for the next few weeks?’ he enquired of his steward.

That impeccably groomed gentleman turned the pages of a large leather-bound diary and scanned the entries. ‘Nothing a few well-worded letters of regret won’t take care of, my lord. Why?’

‘It seems I am required in the country for a time.’

‘In the country?’ The steward looked at him askance. ‘Now?’

‘Unfortunately, my brother does not concern himself with the goings on in society. No doubt it slipped his mind that the Season would soon be underway.’

‘No doubt,’ Godfrey said, though his tone clearly indicated incredulity that anyone in the Earl of Widdicombe’s family should be so negligent in their planning. ‘I take it there is no chance he will change his mind?’

‘None whatsoever.’

‘Very well. I shall prepare the letters and have them ready for your signature by this evening.’

‘Thank you.’ Alex paused, frowning. ‘When is Lady Glynnis due back?’

‘The twenty-fourth, my lord. A week Friday.’

Friday. The day after his brother’s dinner to introduce the members of his family to those of the young lady he intended to marry. Pity. Glynnis’s presence would have gone a long way towards calming the troubled waters this first meeting was sure to stir up. His father liked Lady Glynnis Pettle. He heartily approved of Alex’s plans to marry her. And he was far less likely to fly off the handle or to embarrass Peter in front of a houseful of guests if she was there lending her graceful manners and soothing influence to the proceedings.

Of course, there was always that other kind of soothing influence, Alex reflected. One his father was known to be particularly fond of …

‘Godfrey, have we any of the earl’s favourite whisky tucked away in the cellar?’

‘I believe so, my lord.’

‘Good. Have a case of that put in the carriage as well.’

‘I shall see to it at once.’

Might as well go in prepared for all eventualities, Alex thought as he slid the letters into his desk and locked the drawer. If it didn’t help sweeten his father’s mood, it would certainly improve his. He could sit back and watch as the rest of his family battled around him, all the while thanking the gods of fortune and fate that love had not chosen him to be the unfortunate recipient of Cupid’s annoying little arrows.

If there was one thing Emma Darling longed for, it was harmony—the blissful absence of the emotional strife that turned one’s life upside down and made rational people do completely irrational things. Witness her Aunt Augusta. For the last three weeks, Emma had been staying with her aunt in Bath, listening to her go on about her daughter’s unhappy marriage and her son’s unsuitable bride, about the loneliness of her life and the scandalous affair her husband was supposedly having with the widow next door. When she became too emotionally overwrought to function, Emma had made the tea and run errands, baked Chelsea buns and read poetry, all in an attempt to console her aunt in what was obviously a very trying time.

Then, without a word of explanation or thanks, Aunt Augusta had simply packed her bags and walked out, saying she was going to stay with a friend in Newport and that she wasn’t coming back!

Not sure what else to do, Emma had hastily written letters to her cousins, explaining that their mother had gone to Newport and that it would be a good idea if one of them contacted her as soon as possible. Then she had written a note for her uncle with much the same message, adding that she would be leaving Bath the following day and returning home to Hampshire.

Emma doubted he would care. She had scarcely seen the man since her arrival in the spa town three weeks ago. And had she known the state of affairs in her aunt’s house before boarding the coach, she would never have come in the first place. The only reason she had come to Bath was as a result of her father’s other sister, Dorothy, suggesting upon her arrival at Dove’s Hollow for her twice-annual visit, that Augusta ‘wasn’t well’ and perhaps seeing Emma’s smiling face would help lift her spirits.

Aware now that it would have taken a Belzonian pulley to lift her aunt’s spirits from the abyss into which they had fallen, Emma closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief that she was almost home—back at Dove’s Hollow, where life was, for the most part, tranquil and uncomplicated. When she went downstairs in the morning, it would not be to find a middle-aged woman weeping into her tea, but her father, quietly perusing yesterday’s copy of The Times as though there were nothing of greater importance that needed to be done. Rory and Ranger, their two ageing spaniels, would be lying at his feet and there would be pleasant conversation, perhaps something of interest to be shared, until her younger sister, Linette, came downstairs to fill the room with chatter about hairstyles and dress patterns and whatever gossip happened to be circulating in the local shops the previous day.

At that point, Mr Darling would pick up his paper and escape to his study for the rest of the morning, leaving his daughters to discuss the latest goings on in London and to speculate upon who was marrying for love and who was marrying to better their position in life.

Emma, who tended to believe that everyone wed for material gain, would eventually finish her tea, bid her sister good morning and then go about her day. If the summer months were upon them, she would head into the garden to cut fresh flowers for the various table arrangements, or take a book into the shady recesses of the garden to read. In autumn, she would don her riding habit and enjoy a brisk canter along the leaf-covered roads, or collect apples from the trees in the nearby orchard. Once winter fell and the air grew chill, she might harness Bess and take the trap down to the village to shop for fabric, or, if too cold to go out, gather up her embroidery and settle in front of the fireplace to sew.

But now in the spring, her days were devoted to painting, to capturing the myriad shades of the new season on canvas, from the pastel greens of the freshly burst buds to the delicate pink-and-white blossoms of apple and cherry trees. With brush in hand, she would venture into the garden and try to replicate the glorious panoply of colour all around her.

Having to spend three weeks with Aunt Augusta at such a time had been agony!

However, that was all behind her now, and with her brother away at Oxford and Linette in a lull between passionate storms, Emma had every expectation of life being uneventful. As the carriage finally rumbled to a halt in front of the old stone house, she found herself counting the minutes until she could escape into the peace and quiet of the garden with her easel and brushes—

‘Emma, dear, welcome home,’ Aunt Dorothy cried, appearing in the courtyard as the carriage door swung open. ‘Did you enjoy your stay in Bath?’

Emma frowned. Aunt Dorothy was still here? ‘Not exactly, but I dare say you’ll be hearing why from one of your nieces in the not-too-distant future. But what are you still doing here, Aunt?’ she asked, climbing down from the carriage. ‘I thought you were to have gone back to London weeks ago.’

‘That was my intention, but there have been some interesting developments while you’ve been away and your father asked me if I would stay on a little longer.’

Developments? Emma wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. ‘What kind of developments?’

‘You’ll see. Your father is waiting for you in his study.’

Emma paused, arrested by the expression on the older woman’s face. ‘Aunt Dorothy, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary. What has been going on?’

‘I would love to tell you, my dear, but your father insists on giving you the news himself. But once he has, come to us in the drawing room and we will tell you all the things he has most likely forgotten.’

Emma didn’t miss her aunt’s use of the words us and we. ‘Has this something to do with Linette?’

‘It has, but more than that I dare not say.’ She kissed Emma fondly on the cheek, smelling vaguely of sherry and peppermint, and then turned to lead the way into the house. Emma followed, wondering what could have happened to warrant such an inexplicable turn of events. Aunt Dorothy was not fond of country living. She only came to stay with them twice a year, saying it was the least she could do for her poor widowed brother and his three motherless children, but Emma knew she counted the days until she could return to London again.

What kind of ‘development’ could have prompted her to stay on, and to look as though there was nowhere else she would rather be?

‘Linette is engaged?’ Emma repeated after her father gave her the news. ‘To whom?’

‘Can you not guess?’

‘In truth I cannot. The only gentleman of whom she has spoken with any affection is Mr Taylor, but I cannot imagine that he …’ Emma stopped. ‘Never tell me he has proposed.’

‘Yes, and very sweetly, according to your sister.’

‘But … the youngest son of the Earl of Widdicombe? Why on earth would he propose to Linette?’

‘For all the usual reasons, I suppose. Apparently he is head over heels in love with the girl and cannot imagine life without her.’

‘Good Lord.’ Emma sat down in the nearest chair. ‘Did he really say that?’

‘He did, and naturally your sister is over the moon. There is to be a ball held in a few weeks’ time to celebrate their betrothal.’

Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Not here!’

‘Good Lord, no, we are not nearly grand enough. The festivities are to take place at Ellingsworth Hall. I believe Lady Widdicombe is coming down to oversee the arrangements. That’s why I asked Dorothy to stay on. I thought it might be helpful for Linette to have an older woman to talk to. One who has … experience of marriage and would be able to offer advice in that regard. You understand.’

Oh, yes, Emma understood. Educating a young girl as to the ‘expectations’ of marriage was a job that usually fell to the mother or married older sister; but in the absence of both, her father had obviously decided that his widowed sister was the best person for the job.

Pity, Emma reflected drily. If her father had wanted his youngest daughter to learn about the expectations of marriage, he should have sent her to Bath. Linette would have learned a great deal more there than she had by staying here.

‘When did all this happen?’ Emma asked. ‘I’ve only been gone three weeks.’

‘The proposal was offered a few days after you left.’

‘And no one wrote to tell me about it?’

Her father had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘We thought it best not to. We knew you would wish to come home at once and Dorothy felt it better that you stayed with Gussie.’ He tugged at his ear, a sure sign of his discomfort. ‘I understand she is having some … family issues.’

‘You could say that,’ Emma muttered, not about to go into the details. ‘Have you heard anything from Lord and Lady Widdicombe?’

‘Not yet. They are in London and no doubt very busy with the Season. But I expect I will be hearing from his lordship quite soon.’

‘I wonder what they think of this engagement,’ Emma mused. ‘Linette is the sweetest girl in the world, but the disparity between her social standing and Mr Taylor’s cannot be denied. I would have thought it an insurmountable barrier to marriage.’

‘As would I,’ her father agreed. ‘But young Mr Taylor doesn’t seem to mind and there is nothing one can object to in Linette. She is as lovely as a spring day and as sweet as custard pie, although perhaps a trifle naïve.’

A great deal naïve, Emma was tempted to say. There was a world of difference between life at Dove’s Hollow and the role she would be expected to fulfil as mistress of Ellingsworth Hall. Linette had never been exposed to society before. She had been to London once and had seemed happy enough to leave it. Her only social interactions since then had been at the local assemblies and dances that were held in the village of Little Moreton.

What a turnabout now to find her engaged to one of the most eligible bachelors in the county!

‘I hope she knows what she is doing,’ Emma murmured. ‘I love Linette with all my heart, but she is a hopeless romantic and tends towards impulsive behaviour. What seems like a good idea one day is positively the worst the next, with scarcely a breath in between.’

‘I know, and only time will tell how genuinely happy the two of them will be,’ her father said. ‘But you will have an opportunity to see for yourself tomorrow evening.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘We have been invited to dine at Ellingsworth Hall. Just a small gathering of the immediate family. Your aunt will have all the details. In fact, you had best run along now, my dear, I’m sure she and your sister are at sixes and sevens waiting to tell you all about it.’

‘Yes, I’m sure they are.’ Emma managed a smile as she slowly got to her feet. ‘Imagine, our little Linette engaged to the son of an earl. It is a tremendous match for her.’

‘Yes, though considerably less so for him. But they are not wed yet.’

‘Do you think one of them will cry off?’

‘My dear, when it comes to matters of the heart, I have learned that nothing is impossible.’ Her father retired to the comfort of his favourite chair beneath which Rory and Ranger slept and picked up one of his books. ‘A burning passion can be doused with a few ill-chosen words and undying love can, in fact, die a quick and painful death. Nothing is as fickle as love. We would all do well to remember that.’

For the next hour, Emma was treated to a complete and extensive list of the Honourable Peter Taylor’s qualities. According to Linette, he was the most handsome, the most charming, the most good-natured and the most patient of men. He was an accomplished rider, an excellent shot, spoke French like a native and even played the pianoforte.

By the time Emma reached her room, she was beginning to wonder whether her sister was marrying a saint rather than just a mere man. However, since Linette was also happier than Emma had ever seen her, establishing the difference seemed unimportant. She had found the man of her dreams and tomorrow evening they were to dine with Mr Taylor and his family at Ellingsworth Hall, a magnificent Elizabethan house nestled in over one hundred acres of rolling English countryside.

Not only that, two weeks later, friends and family would be arriving for an extended house party. It would commence with a grand ball on the Friday evening, followed by a series of outdoor events on the Saturday afternoon and a formal dinner that evening. Guests would likely begin leaving Sunday morning, and by the time it was over, Emma was sure she would know everything there was to know about the illustrious Peter Taylor and his family. Even her brother, Ridley, had been sent a note, strongly suggesting that he make himself available for the festivities.

Emma thought longingly of her easel and brushes. It was a beautiful afternoon and she would have loved to spend some time enjoying the sights and sounds of nature, especially after the long, dreary hours she had been forced to spend with Aunt Augusta.

However, it was clear that artistic endeavours would have to wait. Her sister was to be married to the youngest son of the Earl of Widdicombe. There would be a hundred-and-one details to sort out, and, knowing Aunt Dorothy’s tendency to tipple during times of high emotional stress, Emma suspected most of the decisions would have to be made by her. She would try to be as patient as possible, and make herself available for Linette in whatever capacity her sister required. Other than that, all she could do was offer up silent prayers that it wouldn’t be too long before the whole dizzying affair was behind them.

Prior to leaving for the country, Alex stopped off in Mayfair to pay a call on his parents. He hadn’t heard from either of them since making them aware of his intention to travel down to Ellingsworth and he was curious to know if they planned on attending the dinner Peter was giving to introduce his fiancée to whichever members of his family were present. Considering his father’s sentiments about the match, Alex knew better than to consider his parent’s attendance a foregone conclusion.

He found his mother seated at her desk in the Wedgwood Salon, going through a large pile of correspondence. Garbed in a morning gown of deep-turquoise silk, she looked the picture of serenity; but, upon closer inspection, Alex noticed that her complexion was pale and that she looked to have lost weight, something she could ill afford to do. He quietly crossed the room and bent to drop a kiss on the top of her dark, shining head. ‘Good morning, Mother.’

‘Alex!’ Lady Widdicombe jumped. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I was that caught up in my notes I didn’t hear you come in. How are you?’

‘Well. I’m on my way to Ellingsworth and thought I would stop by to find out if and when you and Father were driving down.’

His mother sighed. ‘I shall be leaving tomorrow, but your father won’t be joining me. He’s worked himself into such a state over this engagement, I’ve had to call in Dr Harrow.’

‘Harrow? That can’t have made Father happy. What did the doctor say?’

‘That Richard could do with losing a little weight and have one less whisky before retiring. And that he was to rest for a few days.’

‘Sage advice for any man, I suppose,’ Alex said. ‘Is he in his study?’

‘No. He wasn’t feeling quite the thing this morning so he decided to remain in his room.’

‘Then I shall go and see him—’

‘Alex, there’s something I have to tell you,’ his mother said abruptly. ‘Something you need to know before you go upstairs …’

It was bad news. Alex knew it from the way she suddenly refused to meet his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It isn’t just Peter’s engagement that has upset your father. Last week he … collapsed, in his study,’ she said slowly. ‘Dr Harrow said it … could be his heart.’

His heart? Alex was stunned. His father was only fifty-nine years old and as fit as most men half his age. When had he suddenly developed problems of this nature? ‘Has this happened before?’

‘I don’t know. He says it hasn’t, but you know he doesn’t like worrying us and he hates having to see the doctor.’ His mother sighed. ‘Naturally, he didn’t want me to say anything to you at all. He said there was no point in upsetting you because in a matter of days it would all be fine. And maybe it will be. But I felt you had a right to know before you went down to see your brother.’

Alex walked slowly across the room, stopping by the long window. ‘What did Harrow suggest?’

‘That we restrict your father to a light diet. Boiled fish and broths, no rich desserts or sauces. And he must be kept as calm as possible.’

Calm. With his youngest son about to marry a woman of whom he heartily disapproved. It was like telling a starving fox to ignore the rabbit jumping up and down in front of his nose.

‘On second thought, perhaps it’s best Father not come down to Ellingsworth just yet,’ Alex said. ‘At least not until I’ve had a chance to see how things stand. With luck, I’ll be able to rectify matters without Father ever having to be involved.’

‘Oh, that would be wonderful, Alex,’ his mother said. ‘I do want Peter to be happy, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. We know absolutely nothing about this young woman. Who her people are, where she comes from, what her background is. And naturally that worries your father very much. He is afraid Peter has engaged himself to some fortune-hunting social climber.’

‘We can’t deny that the possibility exists,’ Alex acknowledged, ‘but I’ll find out what I can. And I understand if you would rather stay here with Father than travel all the way down to Hampshire.’

To his surprise, his mother shook her head. ‘There’s really nothing I can do here. Your father will be happier having Murdoch look after him. He thinks he’s more likely to get that glass of whisky. But I’ve warned Murdoch not to indulge him and Dr Harrow did say he would look in while I was gone. Besides, I promised Peter I would take care of the arrangements for the ball. Being a man, he won’t have a clue where to start. That’s what I’ve been doing this morning,’ she said, indicating the pile of papers on her desk. ‘And to be honest, I do want to meet this young woman without your father being there to glower at her. If Peter cannot be dissuaded from going ahead with the marriage, I want to know what kind of person I am going to be welcoming into the family.’ She sighed. ‘I would like to feel there is at least one area of my life over which I have some control.’

The earl was dozing when Alex walked into his room, and though only a few weeks had passed since his last visit, Alex could definitely see a change in his father’s appearance. His complexion was grey, his hands lay limp at his sides and there was a definite rattle in his chest when he breathed. Hard to equate the elderly-looking man slumped in his chair with the vital, powerful figure Alex had known all of his life. ‘Father?’ he ventured quietly.

‘Hmm?’ The earl’s head moved, his eyes slowly opening. ‘Oh, it’s you, Alex. Didn’t hear you come in.’ He tried to sit up. ‘Must be all this medication Harrow’s been forcing down my throat. Told him I didn’t want any of the damn stuff.’

‘If he’s giving you medication, it’s because you need it,’ Alex said, pulling up a chair next to his father’s. ‘And if you don’t take it, I shall force it down your throat myself. We cannot have you messing about when it comes to your health.’

‘Damnation! She told you, didn’t she!’ the earl railed. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself.’

‘Yes, Mother told me and she was right to do so.’

‘She was not right to do so and I’ll tell you now, it is not my heart! It was indigestion. Brought on by a bit of bad pork.’

‘A man does not collapse from indigestion,’ Alex said calmly.

‘Of course he does. I told Harrow as much too, the old quack! Said all I needed was a good glass of whisky!’

‘I trust he didn’t give you one.’

‘He did not. Neither did Murdoch, damn his surly Scottish hide! I’ve a good mind to send him packing.’

Alex smiled. ‘That would be a mistake, Father. Murdoch’s been with you for nigh on forty years.’

‘Yes, and he’s getting far too uppity in his old age,’ his father grumbled. He briefly closed his eyes, took a moment to catch his breath. ‘So, what are you going to do about this situation with your brother?’

‘Too early to say, but I’m on my way to Ellingsworth now.’

‘Good, Alex, good, I have every confidence you’ll be able to take care of it. And your timing couldn’t be better. You know Peter’s planned a dinner for the chit and her family on Thursday evening.’

‘I heard.’

‘Trumped-up little harpy,’ the earl muttered. ‘It was likely her idea that he hold a celebratory dinner in her honour so that she can get a taste of what her life is going to be like once she’s lady of the manor. But we’re not going to let that happen, are we, Alex? We’re going to nip this in the bud long before it gets to that point.’

Unwilling to give his father false assurances, Alex merely said, ‘I’ll do what I can, sir. I take it you’re not planning to be there.’

‘Ha! I’d as soon spit in her eye as see her sit at my son’s table. But Harrow has confined me to bed for a few days so I won’t be able to go regardless. But you know what’s what, Alex. You know we can’t allow this marriage to take place.’

‘It may be out of our hands. Have you spoken to Peter recently?’

‘What’s the point?’ The earl’s face twisted. ‘He says he loves her and that’s all there is to it. But we both know he’s marrying beneath himself. And mark my words, he’ll live to regret it.’

Alex decided not to address that for the moment. Marriages between mismatched social partners often did work out, but it wasn’t easy and it usually required a considerable degree of sacrifice on one part or the other. ‘Do you know anything about the girl?’ he asked instead.

‘Not yet, though I’ve engaged someone to make enquiries. And you needn’t look at me like that,’ he said when Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘If there’s bad blood in the family, I want to know about it before my son puts a ring on her finger!’

‘It is possible you’re exaggerating things, sir,’ Alex said. ‘She may be a perfectly charming young woman.’

‘Really? Have you ever heard of the Darlings of Little Moreton? No, I thought not. Mark my words, she’s after his money and an easy life. Peter won’t believe that, of course. Reading his letter, you’d think she was an angel from heaven complete with fairy wings and a blasted halo! But I’ll wager she’s a common little chit with no breeding and bad manners. Pretty, but not at all suitable to being the wife of a Taylor.’

And that’s really what it all came down to, Alex reflected drily. The appropriateness of the ladies his sons wished to marry. ‘Well, I’ll do what I can, but you should be prepared for the worst,’ Alex said, getting to his feet. ‘Peter’s sensible enough to make up his own mind—’

‘No man’s sensible when it comes to women,’ his father interrupted. ‘That’s why I’m so proud of you, Alex. You take your obligations seriously. Always have. Lady Glynnis Pettle is precisely the sort of woman your brother should be marrying. A woman who knows her place in society. One you’ll never have to worry about. She’s an earl’s daughter, after all.’

Alex smiled. ‘Yes, she is, but she’s also a good friend and has been for a long time. As to the other matter, I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.’

‘I have faith in you, my boy,’ his father said. ‘You’ve been a good and dutiful son all your life. You’ve never once given me any reason to doubt you. If anyone is going to be able to resolve this mess and make Peter listen to sense, it’s you.’

Chapter Two

Ellingsworth Hall was an exquisite Elizabethan house perched prettily on the edge of a vast wood. Unlike many such grand houses, it had not been ruined by tasteless additions thrust upon it by succeeding generations; but had retained the dignity of its origins, the mellow gold stone reflecting warmth and welcome to all who came near.

‘The formal gardens in the back are exceptionally lovely,’ Linette said as the carriage drew to a halt under the portico. ‘Mr Taylor took me for a walk through them last week. He was remarkably knowledgeable about the names of the flowers. I just said they were all very pretty and that my sister would create the most beautiful arrangements if she had such a garden to draw upon.’

Emma smiled, silently adding botanist to the growing list of her future brother-in-law’s accomplishments. ‘I am content with the selection I have in our own gardens, Linette, but I suspect you will be grateful for the variety. The need for flower arrangements will be that much greater in a house the size of Ellingsworth.’

‘Without question,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Mrs Connelly told me the house has twenty-seven rooms, including twelve bedrooms.’

And Mrs Connelly would know, Emma thought drily. The wife of the local squire made it her business to know everything that went on in Little Moreton. In a bucolic village where the arrival of the post was the most exciting thing to happen in a day, the upcoming marriage of a peer’s son to a local girl must have seemed like manna from heaven.

‘Can this really be happening, Emma?’ Linette asked in a voice of wonder. ‘Or shall I wake up to find that it has all been a dream?’

‘I certainly hope it is not a dream,’ Emma said. ‘Otherwise I shall have expended a great deal of time and effort getting dressed, and all for nothing.’

‘It is never a waste of time to make oneself look pretty, Emma,’ Aunt Dorothy chided. ‘On such an auspicious occasion, we must all try to look our very best. Even your father has made more of an effort than usual.’

‘I have made no more or less of an effort than I would have for any other occasion,’ Mr Darling objected.

‘Nonsense, Percy, you look quite the thing in your new mulberry jacket. And I do like the way Jenks has tied your cravat. Simple, yet elegant. The hallmark of a gentleman.’

Emma smiled, aware that how they looked would likely be of secondary importance to how they behaved. They were about to meet the Earl and Countess of Widdicombe, two of society’s most illustrious and influential members. Lord Widdicombe sat in the House of Lords and Lady Widdicombe was a close confidant of the patronesses of Almack’s. They owned an elegant town house in London, a sprawling estate in Kent, and likely several other establishments with which Emma was not familiar.

By contrast, Emma’s father was a former tutor and her late mother was the daughter of a well-to-do merchant. They had acquired Dove’s Hollow upon the demise of Mr Darling’s older brother, Cyril, who had apparently won the house and all its contents at the faro table. After Cyril’s unfortunate death in a drunken brawl, the house had passed to Emma’s father, who had been only too delighted to move his young family in and take up the life of a gentleman. They were not well travelled, did not go regularly to the theatre or museums, and though Emma had been to London once, she had not been formally presented at Court, having had no one to sponsor her or cover the costs of a Season.

Still, at least they made a presentable party as they climbed the steps to the front door of the house her sister would soon be calling home. Aunt Dorothy was wearing a stylish new gown of terre d’Eygpt sarsenet, Linette was radiant in white muslin trimmed with double bands of gold embroidery and Emma’s own gown was a shade of pale green she knew to be flattering to her dark hair and fair complexion.

Nevertheless, she was thankful she was not the one who would have to bear the brunt of the scrutiny tonight. This evening, she was simply a bystander. She would support her sister in every way she could, but if the earl and countess took it into their heads to be disdainful, she suspected there would be little any of them could do but smile as bravely as they could and count the minutes until it was all over.

They were greeted at the door by a tall and rather impressive-looking butler and shown into the elaborate Chinese drawing room. Linette had already informed them that Mr Taylor intended on having all of the reception rooms redone and that he had decided to start with this, the largest of the saloons. Emma, whose eye was always drawn to line and colour, paused on the threshold, impressed by the elegant proportions and by the deep crimson and gold colour scheme. Fire-breathing dragons and sword-wielding warriors were prominent throughout the room and the furnishings were Oriental in design. Two magnificent black-lacquer cabinets with ornate battle scenes hand painted in gold and crimson stood on either side of the long window.

The Countess of Widdicombe was seated on a red-velvet chair by the fireplace, hands folded calmly in her lap. She was a regal-looking woman, still relatively young, with a smooth, unlined complexion and glossy black hair artfully arranged in an elegant coiffure. Wearing a gown of rich crimson silk, she seemed almost an accessory to the room, her elegance and grace very much in keeping with her surroundings.

Emma thought she would have looked a great deal friendlier had she troubled herself to smile, but apparently smiles were not required of a countess when meeting a prospective daughter-in-law and her family for the first time.

Two other men occupied the room and stood on either side of the fireplace like mismatched bookends. Emma recognised Peter Taylor at once and, though he was not the kind of man that appealed to her, she could well understand Linette’s attraction to him. He was not overly tall, but his slenderness conveyed the impression of height and the combined skills of his tailor and valet did the rest. His thick, nut-brown hair tapered neatly to his collar, and with quite the most charming smile Emma had ever seen and a demeanour that was totally without arrogance, he reminded her of an anxious puppy, desperate to be loved by one and all.

The other man, who was clearly too young to be the earl, was obviously the eldest son, Viscount Stewart. Lord Stewart towered over his younger brother by a good four inches and possessed the kind of looks that would invariably send young girls swooning. Thick black hair, luxurious as sable, was swept back from a broad forehead already tanned by the warm spring sun. His jaw was square, his mouth full lipped and sensual, his lashes dark under even darker brows.

Only his eyes were light, the clear, cornflower blue seemingly at odds with the rest of his appearance.

But where was Lord Widdicombe? Surely he should be here to greet his son’s intended bride and her family?

‘Mr Darling, I am so pleased you were able to come,’ Peter Taylor said, quickly stepping forwards. ‘Mother, may I present Mr Darling and his family.’

As Lady Widdicombe inclined her head, Emma studied her face for some indication as to what she was feeling. But apart from a slight stiffness of manner, there was nothing to indicate either pleasure or resentment. ‘Good evening, Mr Darling. I do not believe you have met my eldest son, Lord Stewart?’

‘I have not, Lady Widdicombe, but I am very pleased to do so.’ Mr Darling bowed to both the countess and the heir, and then turned to introduce the members of his own family. ‘May I present my sister, Mrs Grand, my eldest daughter, Emma, and, of course, my youngest daughter, Linette.’

‘Mrs Grand, Miss Darling,’ the countess said, her gaze resting on each of them for a moment. ‘And Miss Linette Darling. Step forwards, child.’

Linette did, her cheeks taking on a deeper-pink hue as she moved closer to the countess’s chair. Stopping a few feet in front of her, she executed a graceful curtsy.

The countess nodded her approval. ‘How old are you, child?’

‘Seventeen, your ladyship.’

‘Seventeen. And you think you can make my son happy.’

‘Of course she will make me happy, Mother,’ Mr Taylor said, springing to Linette’s defence. ‘That is why—’

His mother’s upraised hand silenced him. ‘My question was addressed to Miss Linette, Peter. Kindly allow her to answer.’

All eyes swung back to Linette, who suddenly looked like the sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter. ‘I … I—’

‘Speak up, child. I’m not going to eat you.’

‘Of course not, Mother, but judging from the look of terror in Miss Linette’s eyes, I’m not sure she believes you.’

It was Lord Stewart who spoke, the rich timbre of his voice drawing every eye in the room. He stepped away from the fireplace and offered Linette a surprisingly friendly smile. ‘Good evening, Miss Linette. We are very pleased to welcome you and your family to Ellingsworth Hall.’ His voice was low and deep, the tone undeniably reassuring.

Linette visibly relaxed. ‘Th-thank you, Lord Stewart.’

‘I regret that my father is not able to be with us this evening, but his health is not the best and it was necessary that he remain in London for a few days.’

‘We are very sorry to hear that, my lord,’ Mr Darling said in a tone of mingled relief and regret. Obviously, he too had been wondering at the reason behind the earl’s absence. ‘I hope he will be recovered in time for the coming festivities.’

‘We certainly hope that will be the case,’ Lord Stewart said. ‘The doctor has advised a period of rest before resuming his social obligations. Especially one of this consequence.’

‘Will there be … a lot of people in attendance?’ Linette asked nervously.

‘Indeed, most everyone has written to say they will be here,’ Lady Widdicombe replied. ‘I had my doubts about Lord and Lady Martindale, but their acceptance arrived yesterday, and even Lord and Lady Huffton said they would be willing to leave town for a weekend. Then there will be Sir George and Lady Monk, and of course, the Earl and Countess of Leyland and their daughter, Lady Glynnis Pettle, whom Alexander is soon to marry.’

‘Marry?’ Peter Taylor’s eyebrows rose. ‘I wasn’t aware you’d proposed to Lady Glyn, Alex.’

‘I haven’t,’ Lord Stewart said with a speaking glance at his mother.

‘But we all know it is only a matter of time.’ Lady Widdicombe turned to Emma’s father with a complacent smile. ‘There has been an understanding between the families for some time. Lady Glynnis’s father is the Earl of Leyland and her mother the former Lady Georgiana Croft, daughter of the Marquis of Tunney. It is an excellent match.’

Mr Darling and Aunt Dorothy both offered dutiful murmurs of approval and Lady Widdicombe looked suitably appeased. Emma, who was not impressed by the countess’s reluctance to appear as welcoming towards Linette as she was to this other unknown lady, rolled her eyes, only to flush when she caught Lord Stewart watching her.

‘Miss Darling,’ he said, his gaze moving over her so quickly she felt a draught. ‘I would not have taken you for Miss Linette’s sister. The resemblance between you is not immediately discernible.’

‘Pray do not trouble yourself to be polite, Lord Stewart, the resemblance is not discernable after several hours of intense study. Linette has always been the beauty in the family,’ Emma told him. ‘I tend more towards the academic and the practical.’

‘Oh, now, Emma, you are being far too critical of yourself,’ Linette was quick to say. ‘You play the piano, manage the household and paint the most wonderful landscapes.’

‘All at the same time?’ Lord Stewart favoured Emma with a brief smile. ‘A remarkable talent indeed.’

Resisting the impulse to trade sarcasm for sarcasm, Emma said, ‘It no doubt would be if I were able to do all three simultaneously, but I prefer to do them separately and I admit to painting with far more skill than I play.’

‘How unfortunate,’ Lady Widdicombe observed. ‘A lady’s talent on the pianoforte must always be deemed more valuable than her ability to paint. Painting is such a solitary occupation and one cannot socialise when one is alone.’

‘True, but if a lady does not entertain well, surely it is kinder to her audience that she not make the attempt? I would far rather look at a well-executed painting than listen to a poorly played sonata.’

‘Surely the answer is to practise more often, Miss Darling.’

‘Only if there is something to be gained by the effort.’ Emma smiled. ‘Apart from Linette, my family is not particularly gifted in the musical arena.’

The remark was followed by a rather startled silence, leaving Emma to conclude that speaking truthfully about one’s abilities or lack thereof was probably not recommended. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought her father was not the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was announced a short time later.

Dinner in the baronial dining room was exceptional, though Emma thought eating in the smaller, more intimate family dining room would have been far less intimidating. The great table, which could easily have sat forty, was set with crisp white linens, sparking crystal and the family silver. A magnificent silver epergne graced the centre of the table, while smaller flower arrangements at either end provided a welcome splash of colour against the backdrop of white and silver.

As host, Peter Taylor took his place at the head of the table, with his mother on his right and Linette on his left. Lord Stewart sat to Emma’s right, while her father was on Lady Widdicombe’s right with Aunt Dorothy beside him. And, as expected, the meal was outstanding. A variety of courses, each more tempting than the last, was served by liveried footmen while the butler poured the wine and kept a sharp eye on every servant in the room.

Emma couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Jenks, their man of all trades. A country fellow at best, poor Jenks would have felt decidedly out of place here at Ellingsworth Hall. No doubt the servants below stairs were every bit as intimidating as the lofty family above.

‘Something amuses you, Miss Darling?’

Emma looked up to find Lord Stewart’s blue eyes fixed upon her. ‘Yes, though I doubt anyone but myself would find it so.’

‘How can you know if you do not give us an opportunity to hear it?’

‘Because I learned long ago that while some things are amusing to all, others are not.’ Emma’s gaze moved around the room, touching on the elegant, the beautiful and the priceless. Somehow she knew her musings would definitely fall into the latter category. ‘I am sorry to hear of your father’s illness, Lord Stewart. I hope it is nothing serious.’

‘I’m sure it is not.’ Lord Stewart’s practised smile moved easily into place. ‘The doctor simply advised rest for a few days.’

‘Still, such things are worrisome. While I’m sure the doctor is doing everything he can to speed Lord Widdicombe’s recovery, it always weighs on one’s mind.’

‘As you say.’ He raised his glass and glanced at her over the rim. ‘Will your brother be joining us in two weeks’ time? I understand he is presently studying law at Oxford.’

‘Yes, but we sent word to let him know of the engagement and Ridley has assured us that he will be here in time.’

‘As, hopefully, will Father,’ Peter Taylor said, glancing at his mother. ‘We must have everyone in attendance for such an important occasion. Isn’t that right, Mother?’

Lady Widdicombe looked up and shared a brief glance with her eldest son. After a pause, Lord Stewart said, ‘Of course everyone will be here, Peter. It is, after all, the celebration of your engagement. And, on that note, may I ask you to rise, raise your glasses and join me in a toast,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘To my brother and his lady. May they experience good health, prosperity, and may they always be as happy as they are today.’

Emma dutifully raised her glass. It was not the most romantic of toasts, but perhaps Lord Stewart was not a romantic man. Just because he looked the part didn’t mean he had the temperament to go along with it. She spared a quick glance for her sister, who was smiling blissfully into her fiancé’s eyes and knew Linette didn’t care a whit about flowery tributes or good wishes. She was in love and the man she loved, loved her in return.

Not even the most pedantic of toasts was going to rob her of the pleasure she found in that.

At the conclusion of meal, Lady Widdicombe led the ladies into the elegant Green Saloon, leaving the gentlemen free to enjoy their after-dinner indulgences. Emma, who was decidedly relieved to be away from the probing eyes of Lord Stewart, found the Green Saloon far more to her liking. It was peaceful after the dramatic Chinese room, due no doubt to the absence of snarling dragons and sabre-waving warriors everywhere she turned.

‘Mrs Grand,’ Lady Widdicombe said as she settled into an emerald-green wing chair. ‘You are, I understand, a widow?’

‘Yes. My husband died three years ago.’

‘So you now live with your brother and take care of his family?’

‘Oh, no, your ladyship. I live in London with a companion. I’m not one for country life,’ Aunt Dorothy admitted. ‘I prefer the hustle and bustle of town. Always something going on and plenty of shops to spend your time and your money in. But I try to come down at least twice a year to be with my brother and his family.’

‘I see. Then I take it you, Miss Darling, have the responsibility of running the house and looking after your siblings,’ the countess said.

Emma smiled. ‘I look after the housekeeping and the accounts, and I take care of Papa and Linette as best I can, but my brother, Ridley, is presently away at Oxford and quite able to look after himself.’

‘And neither you nor your brother is married.’

‘No.’

The countess turned to regard Aunt Dorothy again. ‘Is it not unusual, Mrs Grand, for a younger daughter to be settled in marriage before the older son and daughter have made a suitable match?’

‘I suppose it is, your ladyship.’

‘Am I to assume, then, that Miss Darling has not been to London?’

The older woman’s cheeks coloured. ‘I believe she has.’

‘But obviously met with no success.’

‘On the contrary, I was most successful,’ Emma said, having had enough of people talking about her as though she wasn’t in the room. ‘I spent a good deal of time at the British Museum and, by the time I left, I had sketched nearly the entire contents of the Egyptian wing and made a decent start on ancient Greece.’

The comment was clearly unexpected and the resultant look of surprise on Lady Widdicombe’s face prompted Aunt Dorothy to say, ‘Emma is quite gifted when it comes to drawing, Lady Widdicombe. Her sketches of the Elgin Marbles were really quite astonishing.’

‘Indeed.’ Lady Widdicombe turned her attention to Linette, obviously finding Emma’s achievements less than noteworthy. ‘Miss Linette, are you able to play the pianoforte?’

‘I am, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘Then pray be good enough to entertain us.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Linette quickly got up and moved to the instrument. ‘Oh! A Broadwood grand piano.’

‘Yes. Peter had it brought down from London.’ Pride resonated in the countess’s voice. ‘He plays exquisitely.’

Linette ran her fingers lightly over the keys, picking out a simple tune. ‘What a lovely sound. Emma, you must come and turn the pages for me.’

Dutifully, Emma got up and joined her sister.

‘What shall I play?’ Linette whispered. ‘I am so nervous.’

‘You have nothing to be nervous about.’ Emma calmly flipped through the sheets of music on the platform and pulled one out. ‘You play beautifully and your voice is that of an angel. And here is one of your favourite pieces.’

‘“Greensleeves,”’ Linette said, relieved. ‘Yes, I shall be able to do justice to that.’

She began to play and though Emma dutifully watched her progress so as not to miss turning the page at the appropriate time, she did risk an occasional glance at Lady Widdicombe to see if she was enjoying the performance. She hadn’t missed the ambivalence in the countess’s attitude towards Linette. While she wasn’t precisely hostile, neither was she warmly welcoming. Fortunately, she seemed to appreciate Linette’s skill on the pianoforte. She actually closed her eyes once or twice during the performance and was gracious in showing her appreciation at the end.

‘Very nice, Miss Linette. You play tolerably well and have a very pleasant singing voice.’

‘Thank you, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘Of course, both would be improved by regular practice. I would advise you to take the required time during each day to do so.’

‘Yes, Lady Widdicombe.’

‘And now, it is Miss Darling’s turn to entertain us,’ the countess said. ‘Unless she feels it will be too embarrassing for her.’

Emma smiled. Had Lady Widdicombe not tossed in that last line, she might have gracefully demurred. But never one to back away from a challenge, she sat down on the bench recently vacated by her sister and said, ‘I do have one or two tolerable pieces in my repertoire. I simply shall not sing for that would be most humbling after Linette’s performance. And I doubt that would be improved if I were to practise every hour of every day from now until I died.’

Lady Widdicombe said nothing, allowing Emma a brief moment of victory. The countess might be able to tell Linette what she should and should not do, but she certainly wasn’t going to exert the same influence over her. One had to draw the line somewhere.

It would have been a great deal better, Emma reflected later, had she been the first to perform and Linette the second. Because by the time Linette had taken Emma’s vacant seat next to Aunt Dorothy and Emma was ready to play, the door opened again and the gentlemen walked in. And it became immediately evident that no one had been expecting to see her seated at the pianoforte. Emma saw a look of startled pleasure on her father’s face and a slightly more cautious one on Mr Taylor’s.

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 about 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 eyes 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.’

‘Of course not, but your brother obviously doesn’t care and given that your parents have not forbidden the match, I don’t see what business it is of ours.’

He stopped, frowning. ‘May I speak honestly, Miss Darling?’

‘I wish you would.’

‘Then I will tell you that my parents are not pleased with the engagement and that they would very much like to see it come to an end,’ he said bluntly. ‘Particularly my father.’

Emma turned to look at him. ‘Is that why he was not at dinner the other night?’

‘No. His doctor has restricted him to bed, but I am not entirely sure he would have come had he been feeling well enough to do so. He has very strong opinions about the obligations owed to one’s family.’

Emma wished she could have said she was surprised, but how could she when Lord Stewart was echoing her own concerns about the inequality of the match? ‘Why did your father not voice his concerns when your brother first made him aware of his intentions to approach my sister?’

‘Because Peter didn’t tell him of his intentions until it was too late,’ Lord Stewart admitted. ‘Now, relations between them are strained to the point where it is difficult for either of them to speak about the situation with any degree of rationality.’

‘I am sorry to hear that,’ Emma said slowly. ‘Does the countess also object to the marriage?’

A pained expression flashed across Lord Stewart’s face. ‘That is not as simple a question to answer. My brother holds … a very special place in my mother’s heart. Above all, she wants him to be happy.’

Emma supposed it was not an uncommon failing of mothers, to wish their children well, but it was obviously a feeling not shared by her husband. And their antipathy towards the marriage at so early a stage did not bode well for Linette’s future relationship with her in-laws. ‘What did you hope to achieve by mentioning this to me, Lord Stewart?’

‘Before I answer that, I would ask you a question.’ He stopped by the base of a large tree and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Is your sister marrying my brother for love or for what she stands to gain by becoming his wife?’

It was only because the nature of the question caught her so completely off guard that Emma did not immediately take offence to what was a highly impertinent enquiry. ‘Of course she loves him. Linette is not in the least mercenary. She would never marry if her heart was not fully engaged. You cannot be expected to know this, of course, but she has spoken of nothing but your brother since the day the two of them met.’

‘I feared as much,’ he said. ‘Love is always harder to discourage than gain.’

‘But surely it is not your place to discourage the relationship,’ Emma said. ‘If they are truly in love—’

‘Oh, I believe they both think themselves in love, Miss Darling, but will it last? You strike me as being a sensible young woman, one who knows what the world is all about. And it is not about kindness and love. It is about establishing one’s place through the acquisition of power and wealth. Love plays very little part in that.’

Emma said nothing, not at all sure she liked being coupled with this man when it came to their feelings about matters of the heart. She might not dream about finding romantic love for herself, but that did not mean she belittled it when it came to others.

‘Does that also apply to your forthcoming engagement to Lady Glynnis?’ she asked boldly. ‘Is that union also based on the premise of what each of you stands to gain, with no consideration for love or other feelings?’

He raised one dark eyebrow. ‘I did not come here to discuss my relationship, Miss Darling.’

‘No, but in being so cavalier about my sister’s, it seems only fair that I should ask you about the basis for yours. I may be sensible, my lord, but if I were ever to marry, I would hope to do so for love rather than gain.’

‘Very well. My betrothal to Lady Glynnis was arranged by our parents and accepted by the lady and myself as being eminently sensible. Our interests are similar, our natures compatible and our desires and goals identical. And we happen to like and respect one another.’

‘So, all in all, a very convenient partnership,’ Emma said.

‘You could say that.’

‘Do you love her?’

He clearly wasn’t expecting the question and Emma knew from the look on his face that he wasn’t pleased about being asked. ‘You don’t believe in mincing words.’

‘Not when the issue concerns me as deeply as this one. Do you love the lady you are planning to marry, Lord Stewart?’

He took his time, suddenly more interested in the antics of a robin pulling a worm from the grass than he was in giving her an answer. Finally, ‘If being comfortable with a lady and enjoying time spent in her company is an indication of love, then, yes, I suppose I do.’

‘My, how passionately you speak.’

‘Would you have me quote sonnets?’ he retorted sarcastically. ‘Proclaim my undying love in the manner of poets and kings?’

‘I would have you speak of nothing you did not feel,’ Emma said. ‘But neither will I listen to you condemn two people who so obviously are in love simply because you put no stock in the emotion. Your brother has proposed to my sister and been accepted. Were he to break it off now, he would suffer the consequences of his actions and she would be left heartbroken.’

‘Perhaps, but if your sister were to cry off, she would be thought flighty, but not socially irresponsible,’ he countered. ‘Indeed, proceeding with this marriage would be the more socially irresponsible of the two options.’

To a degree, he was correct, but Emma had no intention of letting him think she agreed with him on this or any other front. Or of letting the remark go unchallenged. ‘Why do you dislike Linette so much, my lord? Apart from having spent a few hours in her company, you know absolutely nothing about her.’

‘Whether I like her or not has nothing to do with it. My brother’s birth is such that he should have done better.’

‘Then your parents should have stopped him from proposing to her!’

‘And I’ve already told you they had no idea he intended to do so. And even if they had, it would not have made any difference.’ He turned away so she might not see his face. ‘My mother can deny him nothing. Even when she should.’

They were past the point of polite discussion now. They were arguing—and as someone who disliked conflict intensely, Emma knew they would achieve nothing by it. ‘Lord Stewart, you are the heir to your father’s title and estates. As long as you marry well, what does it matter how your brother settles his affairs?’

‘It matters a great deal. I do not wish to see Peter take stock of his life in ten years’ time and come to regret what he did in a youthful burst of passion. I would rather see him suffer now than in the future.’

‘Suffer? You think your brother will suffer from being married to Linette?’

‘That’s not what I said—’

‘But it is what you meant.’ Dear Lord, the arrogance of the man! Did he really expect her to ask Linette to reconsider her acceptance of Mr Taylor’s offer? To throw over the man she loved for the sake of … what? Lord Stewart’s misplaced notion that his brother might be happier for it in the long run? ‘Lord Stewart, I … appreciate the concern you must feel for your brother, but you must also understand that the concern I feel for my sister is equally great,’ Emma said, forcing herself to speak in a calm and rational manner. ‘I believe her to be deeply in love with Mr Taylor and I could not counsel her against marrying him when I know how unhappy it would make her.’

‘Then you will not encourage her to think on it again.’

‘I will not.’

‘You could be sparing them both a great deal of heartache and embarrassment.’

‘Apart from the fact of Linette’s birth not being as lofty as you might like, she will not embarrass you or your family. She is good and loving and I know she will make your brother an excellent wife. I cannot do what you ask, my lord, nor am I sure your brother would thank me for doing so,’ Emma said quietly. ‘You saw how they looked at one another the other night. You heard how he spoke to her.’

‘Lies can be convincingly enacted, Miss Darling. So much so that, sometimes, we only see and hear what we wish to.’

Emma’s mouth hardened. ‘I like to think I see what’s there, my lord.’ How dare he suggest that Linette would lie about her feelings! Linette, who was no more capable of deceit than a child. ‘Now if you don’t mind—’

‘Excuse me, Miss Darling?’

A man’s voice interrupted, one Emma did not recognise. Until she looked up and saw the newly appointed vicar of the church in Little Moreton approaching. ‘Mr Tufton?’

John Tufton was a handsome young man with a shock of light brown hair and warm brown eyes. He had come from a parish in Sussex to take over St David’s and was at least thirty years younger than his predecessor—a fact that had not gone unnoticed by the single ladies in Little Moreton. ‘Good afternoon.’ His smile was somewhat hesitant as he glanced from Emma to her companion. ‘I hope I haven’t come at a bad time?’

Aware that he couldn’t have come at a better one, Emma said, ‘Not at all, Mr Tufton. Lord Stewart was just leaving.’

‘Lord Stewart?’ The vicar’s eyes widened. ‘I was not aware you resided in the parish, my lord.’

‘I do not.’ Lord Stewart’s voice was less than conciliatory. ‘I am here visiting my brother.’

‘Ah, yes, Mr Taylor. A most excellent gentleman. I made his acquaintance last week. I, myself, am newly arrived in Little Moreton and so am calling upon all of my parishioners in an attempt to get to know them better,’ Mr Tufton said. ‘There is generally so little time after Sunday service.’

‘Of course.’ Lord Stewart’s mouth lifted in a sardonic smile. ‘Everyone rushing home to enjoy their dinners.’ He turned to Emma, his expression growing even more cynical. ‘Well, I shall take up no more of your time, Miss Darling. But I hope we may continue our conversation in the near future.’

‘Only if the subject differs from what we spoke of today, Lord Stewart. Mr Tufton,’ Emma said, turning to smile at the parson. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to make your way to the house. I know my father and my aunt will be pleased to see you. I shall collect my things and join you there.’

‘Excellent. And I do hope we will see you and your family at church on Sunday, Lord Stewart?’

‘I really couldn’t say.’ Lord Stewart’s eyes briefly connected with Emma’s. ‘There are so many other things of importance to concern oneself with when in the country.’

With a brief nod, he whistled for his horse. Emma didn’t say a word as the elegant creature trotted obediently to his side. It made no sense that she should be annoyed that even the horse seemed to fall under his spell. Instead, she turned her back on him and walked purposefully towards her easel, heavy in heart and low in spirit.

Poor Linette. What would she say if she knew what her future brother-in-law was saying about her? Linette had gone to Ellingsworth Hall in fear of Mr Taylor’s parents, yet now it seemed it was his brother who offered the biggest threat to her happiness. He did not want the marriage to take place. And where his father did not have the courage to show his displeasure and his mother hadn’t the heart to, it seemed Lord Stewart had more than enough of both. He intended to march in and destroy his brother’s and her sister’s chances at happiness by spouting duty and obligation and all the other things that obviously mattered to him far more than love.

It was just as well the vicar’s arrival had put an end to her artistic endeavours, Emma thought moodily. Her creative urges had vanished, leaving her no more able to see the beauty in the lily pond than she could in a warty frog. She was angry and upset, yet she knew that directing her anger at Lord Stewart really made very little sense. Had she not questioned the inequity of the match herself? Was she not the one who had expressed concern over Linette’s ability to take responsibility for her decisions? The one who had told her father that Linette was changeable by nature?

Why, then, was she angry at Lord Stewart for having said exactly the same things?

Mr Tufton did not stay long. A quiet gentleman with agreeable manners, he was careful not to wear out his welcome. After enjoying a cup of tea and a slice of seed cake, he spoke to Emma’s father and Aunt Dorothy, saying how pleased he was to meet them and how much he looked forward to seeing them on Sunday. Then, after exchanging a few words with Linette and offering congratulations on her betrothal, he left.

Emma was not sorry to see him go. Not because she disliked the man. There really wasn’t anything about Mr Tufton one could dislike. But the entire time he had been seated in their parlour, Emma had lived in fear of his bringing up Lord Stewart’s visit and that would have been awkward since she had no intention of telling Linette Lord Stewart had called.

‘Had he come to talk about the dinner?’ Linette would surely have asked. Or ‘Had he come to speak to her father about the upcoming wedding?’ And the thought of having to tell her sister the truth made Emma shudder. Such an admission would only have brought on grief and uncertainty, and tears were most effective at destroying harmony in a house.

Then her brother Ridley came home—and that fragile harmony vanished for good.

He arrived at eight o’clock in the evening. Dinner was over and they were all sitting quietly in the drawing room when the door burst open, causing the dogs to start barking as though the four horsemen of the Apocalypse had appeared, and then Ridley blew in like a westerly.

‘Well, here I am,’ he announced dramatically. ‘The prodigal son returned. Have you all missed me dreadfully?’

‘We can scarce speak for emotion,’ Mr Darling said in a dry voice.

But Aunt Dorothy was already on her feet, anxious to greet her favourite nephew. ‘Ridley, dear boy, of course they’ve missed you. And I haven’t seen you in an age,’ she said, kissing him soundly on both cheeks. ‘But what have you done to your hair?’

‘It’s all the rage in London,’ Ridley said, grinning. ‘What do you think, Em?’

Emma looked up. ‘That you look like Caesar and you know what happened to him.’

‘Darling Emma,’ Ridley said fondly. ‘I can always count on you to say the nicest things. And here is little Linette,’ he said, turning to his sister and pulling her to her feet. ‘Who I vow is even more beautiful than when I left.’

‘Don’t be silly, Ridley, you’ve only been gone a few months,’ Linette said, blushing.

‘Nevertheless, there does seem to be an additional bloom on the rose and I suspect that has much to do with the fact you are soon to marry the venerable Mr Peter Taylor,’ Ridley said. ‘Well done, Linny. If all goes well, you might just end up a countess.’

‘Highly unlikely,’ Emma drawled, ‘given that there is an older brother in line for the title.’

‘Ah, yes. Alexander the Great.’

Emma blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Alexander Taylor. Lord Stewart,’ Ridley explained, flopping down in his favourite chair. ‘The lads call him Alexander the Great because he’s a cracking good rider and a dashed hand with a whip. I won’t mind having him as a brother-in-law, I can tell you.’

‘You must be hungry, Ridley,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Shall I ask Cook to prepare something?’

‘You may indeed. I did stop for a bit of overdone beef on the way, but I wouldn’t mind a slice of Mrs Dunstan’s excellent apple pie if there is any to be had.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged. Ring for Jenks, would you, Emma?’

‘So, when are the nuptials to take place?’ Ridley enquired, fondling Rory’s silky head.

Linette blushed. ‘We haven’t set a date yet.’

‘What? I thought you would have been anxious to reel him in.’

‘Really, Ridley!’ Aunt Dorothy exclaimed. ‘The man is hardly a fish to be landed.’

‘Of course not. He’s already been hooked and I am very proud of my little sister for having done so. Imagine Linette snapping up the youngest son of an earl. It certainly trumps anything you or I have been able to pull off, Em. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?’ He grinned. ‘Turned any gentleman up sweet yet?’

‘If I had, I’d know better than to tell you,’ Emma said, returning to her chair. ‘You would likely tease the poor man to death.’

‘Naturally. What are brothers for?’

‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t quite worked that out.’

‘All right, stop bickering, you two,’ Mr Darling said. ‘Ridley, how are you going on with your studies? Finding the intricacies of the law to your liking?’

For the first time, Ridley looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to write to you about that, Father.’

‘Oh?’

‘There’s something I have to tell you. And I don’t want you getting upset because I have given this a great deal of thought.’

Her father’s eyes narrowed. ‘Given what a great deal of thought?’

‘My decision to become a solicitor. Or rather, my decision … not to become one.’

His father dropped his book. ‘Not become a solicitor. Why the devil not?’

‘Because I’m really not cut out for it.’

‘Indeed! Then what, pray tell, are you cut out for?’

‘Painting,’ Ridley announced decisively.

Aunt Dorothy frowned. ‘Painting?’

‘Yes. As in portraits.’

‘Of what?’ his father demanded.

‘Of society’s most beautiful and aristocratic families.’ Ridley stood up and affected an elegant bow. ‘Of grand lords and titled ladies, of cherubic daughters and stalwart sons. And of their noble dogs and horses, of course,’ he said, leaning down to scratch Ranger behind the ear.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Linette said, ‘Goodness, Ridley, whatever possessed you to do such a thing?’

‘Indeed! Giving up law to dabble in paints and brushes?’ his father said stiffly. ‘I thought you had more sense.’

‘Sense I have in limited supply, but talent I possess in abundance,’ Ridley quipped. ‘I’ve already completed five commissions and have five more waiting. And they pay me very well.’

‘Then he must be good, Percy,’ Aunt Dorothy commented. ‘The aristocracy are very particular about who they engage to paint their portraits.’

‘Exactly!’ Ridley agreed. ‘They are very particular and I am very good. More to the point, those for whom I’ve done work have passed my name along to others and I actually have more work than I can handle.’

‘And I suppose you expect me to clap you on the back and say, well done, sir, well done!’ his father demanded.

‘That would be nice.’

‘Well, I shall not! Being a barrister is a respectable occupation. One that would stand you in good stead for the rest of your days. The same cannot be said for artists.’

‘Of course not, because we are all licentious reprobates who drink too much and have naked women lying around our studios,’ Ridley muttered. ‘God knows, I’ll probably be dead by the time I’m thirty.’

‘Really, Ridley, such language in front of your sisters!’ Aunt Dorothy chastised.

‘Indeed, and in front of your aunt,’ his father added. ‘I am not pleased, Ridley. Not at all pleased.’

‘But why should you be upset? It’s not as though I’m drinking myself into oblivion, or trying to cadge money from you. I make a very good living.’

‘But it is not the occupation of a gentleman!’

‘And I have never aspired to be a gentleman,’ Ridley said in exasperation. ‘I want to paint. I’ve always wanted to paint. It is the only thing I’m good at and likely the only thing I ever will be.’

The conversation was mercifully interrupted by the arrival of Jenks.

‘Ah, Jenks,’ Emma said quickly. ‘Would you be so good as to bring some fresh tea and either a slice of cake or a piece of pie for my brother?’

‘Don’t bother.’ Ridley abruptly got up and headed for the door. ‘I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going up to my room.’

‘We’ll talk about this in the morning, Ridley,’ Mr Darling called after him. ‘Don’t think we won’t!’

Emma exchanged an anxious glance with her sister, then nodded at the servant who was still standing patiently in the doorway. ‘Thank you, Jenks, it seems we won’t be needing anything after all.’

‘Very good, miss.’

After he left, the room settled into an uneasy silence. Linette picked up a book, Emma reached for a magazine and Aunt Dorothy went back to her tambour, muttering something about mismatched threads and too-tight knots.

‘Oh well, that’s just splendid!’ Mr Darling finally burst out. ‘My youngest daughter about to marry into an earl’s family and my only son announces he’s given up law to paint pictures.’

‘Portraits, Father,’ Emma corrected tactfully. ‘And it is not such a disreputable occupation. Mr Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds were both highly respected for their work.’

‘Ridley is not Gainsborough,’ Mr Darling drawled.

‘You don’t know that. You haven’t seen any samples of his work.’

‘And I have no desire to. Knowing Ridley, I can just imagine what kind of pictures—’

The door opened and Ridley walked back in. Ignoring his father, he handed a framed picture to Emma. ‘Lord Mortimer paid me six guineas for that and his recommendation brought in two more commissions for which I shall charge double. You may not like what I’ve turned my hand to, Father, but you cannot deny I’m good at it.’

With that, he left again, this time closing the door firmly behind him.

Emma glanced at the painting and slowly began to smile. The subject was a little girl no more than three years old. She was sitting on a stool with a spaniel at her feet and a small grey kitten clutched in her arms. Her hair was the colour of ripe corn and she was wearing a pale pink dress dotted with silver stars. She was a pretty little girl, to be sure, but it was the wistfulness of her expression and the innocence of her smile that Ridley had captured so perfectly on the canvas.

‘It is excellent,’ Emma said, handing the painting to Linette.

Linette didn’t say a word, but her eyes opened wide and when she looked up, Emma saw the admiration on her face. Clearly, she’d had no idea that Ridley was so talented. None of them had. The portrait was not the work of a rank amateur. It was the work of a man who deserved to be recognised for his skill and ability.

Unfortunately, thinking about paintings took Emma back to that morning and to the unpleasant confrontation she’d had with Lord Stewart. Pity she couldn’t so easily relegate him to the back of her mind. But, there he was, front and centre once again, and she had a sinking feeling he was going to stay there until she had decided what she was going to do about this situation with Linette and Peter.

Lord Stewart didn’t want his brother to marry Linette and Emma didn’t want to see Peter and Linette break up. And now Ridley had given up law to become an artist. Was it any wonder she had a feeling it was going to be a long time before harmony found its way back inside the peaceful walls of Dove’s Hollow again?

Chapter Four

Alex had been fortunate enough to enjoy a close relationship with his younger brother ever since they were boys. Always a happy-go-lucky lad, Peter was easy to be around and was never moody or quick to anger. Loyal to a fault, he could be counted on to tell the truth, and though that honesty that had cost him the friendship of several boys who tended towards mischief, it had stood him in good stead in all other areas of his life.

His one failing, if it could be called that, was his tendency to fall too easily in love. Peter often mistook friendship for affection and when a young lady smiled at him, he was prone to reading more into it than was intended. Thankfully, since most of the girls they had grown up with had tended to look upon Peter as a brother rather than a potential suitor, his youthful escapades had not landed him in any serious trouble. But Alex feared his brother’s engagement to Linette Darling now was trouble. Trouble of the most ominous kind.

‘So how did you and Linette meet?’ he asked as the two of them stood reviewing renovation plans the following morning.

‘We were introduced at the Christmas fête.’ Peter picked up the architect’s drawing of the new parlour and held it towards the light. ‘Linette was looking after the children. The vicar introduced us and we spent a few minutes in conversation. I thought her delightful.’

‘So you went to see her after the fête?’

‘No.’

Alex frowned. ‘No?’

‘I didn’t think it would be a good idea.’

‘I don’t follow.’

Peter put down the drawing. ‘Father’s always had very high expectations of us and while Linette’s birth is acceptable, I knew it wouldn’t be good enough for him, so I purposely did not seek her out.’

‘Then how did you come to be engaged?’

‘A week before Christmas, I was invited to a small dinner party. An informal gathering, the hostess said, with three or four other families to whom they were close. Given that I had nothing else to do that evening, I agreed. Linette was there, along with her father and sister.’

‘I see. And did she seek you out?’

‘No.’ Peter drew forwards another sketch, this one of changes to the formal dining room. ‘In fact, she went out of her way to avoid me. She admitted afterwards that she had never associated with anyone of high rank before and that she was terrified of embarrassing herself. But she never put a foot wrong. And, as the evening wore on, I found myself making excuses to be near her. I enjoyed talking to her and I loved hearing her laugh.’ He stared down at the plans, but Alex knew he was seeing something quite different. ‘I believe I fell in love with her that very night.’

‘You didn’t think it simply a case of infatuation?’

‘Briefly, yes,’ Peter admitted. ‘But as the months passed and I couldn’t stop thinking about her, I realised it was more. And the idea she might be seeing someone else nearly drove me insane. So, I started planning ways in which we might meet. Accidentally, of course. I went to a few of the local assemblies. Started accepting invitations to events I knew she would be attending, and, eventually, I got up the courage to call at her house. And the more I saw her, the more I realised how much I loved her. Finally, I had no choice but to speak to Mr Darling. When I had his approval, I asked Linette to marry me.’

Alex stared at the drawings, aware that the answers weren’t at all what he had been hoping to hear. He had expected to find fault with his brother’s reasoning, sure there would be something upon which he could hang his hopes of breaking them up. But there was nothing. Peter had used logic and family obligation to try to resist the young lady’s charms—and had fallen in love regardless. They were not off to a promising start.

‘By the way, I talked to Mother last night,’ Peter said.

‘Oh?’

‘I wanted to know how upset Father really was over my engagement.’

‘What did she say?’

‘That he doesn’t approve and that he expects me break it off as soon as possible.’

‘Is there any chance you would?’

‘No. It would break Linette’s heart, not to mention mine.’

So, he would stand by his decision. Alex sighed. Their father would not be pleased. ‘Did Mother say anything else?’

‘No. Why?’

Surprised, Alex turned and walked towards the window. Why hadn’t their mother made mention of their father’s illness? Surely she felt it important enough. Why else would she have told him? ‘No reason,’ he said, deciding to leave it for the moment. ‘Tell me, what does Mother think of Miss Linette Darling now that she’s met her?’

‘That she is lovely and sweet and seems to come from a nice enough family.’

‘But …?’

‘But do I really think I am doing the right thing by marrying her.’

Alex hadn’t expected his mother to agree with the betrothal, but neither had he expected her to condemn it as harshly as his father had. Her relationship with Peter wouldn’t allow it.

‘You haven’t told me what you think about all this yet,’ Peter said.

Alex shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Of course it matters. You’re my brother. I’ve always looked up to you. I care about what you think.’

‘So if I were to tell you that I agree with Father in thinking you should have done better …?’

‘I’d say it’s not what I wanted to hear, but that I can understand your reasons for saying it.’

‘Unfortunately, understanding what I’m saying doesn’t solve the problem, Peter,’ Alex said. ‘If something were to happen to me, you would become the next earl. Do you really think Linette Darling is suitable to being the next Countess of Widdicombe?’

Peter smiled unhappily.” I’m sorry, Alex. But in my eyes, she already is.’

Ridley’s startling admission that he had given up law to paint portraits for a living was an endless source of fascination to Emma. It seemed a thoroughly illogical, but totally understandable, thing for her brother to do; curious to find out more about that part of his life, she waited until their father had gone for his daily walk and then went to seek him out.

She found him, not unexpectedly, in the stables, devoid of jacket and with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had a soft brush in his hand and was running it over the sides and back of his chestnut, both he and the horse seeming to enjoy the peaceful occupation. Ridley was different from most gentlemen in that regard. He liked looking after his horses almost as much as he enjoyed riding them.

‘Hello, Emma,’ he said as she appeared at the stall door. ‘What brings you down here?’

‘I wanted to talk to you about your painting. Away from the house.’

‘Away from Father, you mean.’ Ridley resumed brushing. ‘At least I know you don’t think I’m dicked in the nob for going ahead with it.’

‘Not at all. I admire you for having had the courage to follow your heart. But weren’t you nervous, giving up your legal studies for something as unpredictable as art?’

‘In truth, I was terrified,’ Ridley admitted with a smile. ‘But only for a day or two. In my heart, I knew I was doing the right thing. I wasn’t cut out for the law, Em. All those boring precedents and tedious pleadings. I never would have been any good at it. But painting is like breathing to me. It’s natural. It’s what I need to do to be happy.’

Emma understood that. Though her own enjoyment of painting wasn’t the passion it so clearly was for Ridley, she knew the joy of sitting down in front of an easel and getting ready to create, the freedom of allowing her imagination to soar. ‘But you said you had commissions. With so many successful portraitists in London, how did you get anyone to hire you?’

‘I was lucky enough to be friends with Lord Bickerson’s son at Oxford,’ Ridley said, moving the brush over the chestnut’s hindquarters. ‘Tom knew of my interest because I had shown him a few of my sketches. So when he came in one evening and told me his father was looking for someone to do a family portrait, I jokingly suggested that he put my name forward. He told me he already had and that I was to meet with his father the next day to go over the details.’

‘How wonderful!’ Emma said.

‘Yes, it was, rather. So I met Lord Bickerson and told him I’d do the painting, and that if he didn’t like it he didn’t have to pay me.’

‘Very noble of you.’

‘Not really. Bickerson knew I’d never done a commission before. He had already engaged an established artist before Tom even mentioned my name. So giving me a chance wasn’t much of a risk on his part. It was something he did as a favour to his son. And if it turned out I wasn’t any good, he’d still have a painting from someone else and all I would have been out was the cost of a canvas and some paints. But, as luck had it, he was delighted with the painting and paid me what I considered to be a very fair sum. More importantly, he recommended me to Lord Huston—’

‘Viscount Huston?’ Emma asked on a gasp of surprise.

‘That’s right. And when Huston saw what I’d done for Lord Bickerson, he hired me to paint a portrait of his wife and another one of his two young sons. After that, I received a commission from a titled gentleman, followed by one from a lady who wished me to paint her portrait as a gift for someone.’

Emma smiled. How wonderful to hear that Ridley was enjoying success in his new career. Why, then, the faint echo of regret in his voice? ‘So you are now an established artist with enviable credentials and a growing list of clients,’ she said.

‘Indeed. But Linette tells me you have improved immeasurably since I left,’ he said in an overly hearty voice. ‘When are you going to show me some of your work?’

‘Are you mad? After showing me that delightful painting of the little girl with the kitten in her arms? Not a chance. I paint for my own pleasure. Not for your eyes or anyone else’s!’

But someone else had seen her work. Lord Stewart, the morning he had come upon her painting down by the pond. He had complimented on her ability and told her that her work was impressive. High praise indeed from a man like that.

Good thing she’d known better than to believe him.

On Wednesday morning, Emma donned a plum-coloured riding habit with a matching bonnet and had Jenks saddle her mare. It was a glorious morning for a ride. The sky was a bright sapphire-blue with a few white clouds drifting by like tufts of cotton. Dark-green hedges crisscrossed lighter green fields dotted here and there with clumps of golden buttercups and white-and-yellow daisies. A painter’s palette of colours! Unfortunately, caught up as she was in her study of the world around her, Emma failed to notice the approaching rider until he was close enough to speak. ‘I suspect your artistic eye is seeing all this in a vastly different light than those of us who cannot tell blue from turquoise.’

The voice was teasing, lighter in tone than it had been the last time they’d spoken. Nevertheless, Emma couldn’t suppress a frisson of awareness at hearing it. ‘You surprise me, Lord Stewart. The fact you know there is a difference leads me to believe you already know more about colour than you are willing to let on.’

His smile widened. ‘I always try to exceed a lady’s expectations.’

‘But since I have none, there is nothing to exceed.’

‘Come now, Miss Darling, surely you have some expectations of the man who will soon be your brother-in-law.’

‘Really? I thought you were doing everything you could to prevent that from happening.’

He shrugged. ‘If neither party is willing to cry off …’

‘Then you have not succeeded in changing your brother’s mind?’

‘No more than I suspect you have succeeded in changing your sister’s.’

‘Ah, but I have not tried,’ Emma informed him. ‘There have been so many other things to occupy my time. Fittings for new gowns. Paying calls on all the people who are desperate to hear details of my sister’s upcoming nuptials. Meetings with Mr Tufton to talk about the ceremony.’

‘Ah, yes, the dedicated vicar.’ Lord Stewart did not smile. ‘I wonder if he is taking as much of an interest in all of his parishioners as he seems to be taking in you and your family.’

Emma cursed the warmth that flooded her cheeks. She did not blush prettily. Patches of red stood out on her cheeks like droplets of blood on snow, resulting in her chin and forehead appearing all the more pale. ‘It is part of his job to get to know the people of this parish, my lord. And since Linette is to be married in his church, he is spending time with her to familiarise her with the ceremony. As well, he and my father discuss matters of philosophy and religion. The time he spends with Ridley and myself is minimal.’

‘If you say so.’ He didn’t meet her eyes, but Emma could sense his annoyance and for the life of her she couldn’t imagine why.

‘You haven’t answered my question as to what you expect of me as your brother-in-law,’ he said, reverting to their earlier topic of discussion.

Wondering why it mattered, Emma lifted her shoulders in a shrug. ‘Only that you are good to my sister and mindful of your obligations to her. Although,’ she said, hoping to lighten the mood, ‘I suppose if you were to occasionally take your mother and two sisters-in-law to lunch at some hideously expensive but exceptionally good restaurant in London, it would not go amiss.’

‘Hideously expensive but exceptionally good,’ he mused. ‘That would have to be the Clarendon. A pricey ticket, but worth it under the circumstances. Have you ever eaten there?’

‘No, though Ridley may have. He has a taste for the finer things. What would you suggest?’

‘Many believe their Coquilles St Jacques to be without equal and their crêpes Suzette better than those served at the Hôtel Le Meurice in Paris. Personally, I prefer the langoustine d’anglais, followed by a tender fillet of beef, and to finish, either a chocolate soufflé or crème brûlée

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