Improper Miss Darling. Gail Whitiker
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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