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
