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
