If His Kiss Is Wicked. Jo Goodman
You would not have known if Ferrin had not tattled.”
She sighed. “That was really too bad of him. I did despair of that boy ever finding a sense of humor. Cybelline has been excellent for him.”
Restell recognized dangerous waters. They were perilously close to discussing the benefits of marriage again. He nearly reeled at the prospect. “If you were to act as a mentor to Lady Greenaway, you could very well be invited to observe Sir Arthur as he creates the portrait. You should indulge your interest in painting, Mother. Think how such an intimate perspective might enhance your own happy talent.”
“My, Restell, but you are clever today.”
He shrugged modestly. “You inspire me.”
“Your father says the same, but he is generally speaking of some political machination. It is difficult to know whether to be flattered.” She finished her drink. “I think I will invite Lady Greenaway to tea soon. Obviously she is in need of some guidance regarding the continued employment of the children’s nanny.”
Restell winced. “Do not say you mean to tell her to release the poor woman from her household.”
“It is sound advice and I intend to give it. I have no expectation that Lady Greenaway should take the children in hand herself. It is not done. Why, they are not even interesting at so young an age. The truth is that Lady Greenaway and her offspring are best served by a reliable, sober nanny. When the children are judged mannerly enough to be presented in public they may be sent to school. The boys will go to Eton or Harrow. The girls will have a governess to instruct them.”
“It seems rather cold-blooded.”
“Does it? I confess, it felt as if my heart was breaking to send Ferrin away, but that is the sacrifice a mother makes in the best interest of her child. You and Ian were already at school when I married your father, but watching you return there after holidays hurt my heart as well. It is only marginally easier with the girls, but they spend so much time with their governess, there are times when one wonders if they are even at home.”
“I hadn’t realized.”
“Of course you did not. Do you imagine I could afford to show weakness? I would have been surrendering your futures. A mother does not do that.” She paused and added softly, “A stepmother does not do that, not if she wishes to honor the woman who came before her.”
Restell closed the distance to her side and bent to kiss her forehead. “You have done my mother proud, dearest. Never doubt that.”
Lady Gardner’s smile was a trifle watery as she patted Restell’s cheek. “What plans have you for this evening? Will you join us for supper?”
“I should like that. Will you mind if I take my leave and then return? I promised Hannah and Portia that I would accompany them to Madame Chabrier’s. They are in want of new bonnets, it seems.”
“You spoil them, Restell.”
“It is the privilege of being an older brother.”
“Very well. They certainly enjoy time spent with you. You will not permit them to behave badly, will you? They have a tendency to gawk and dawdle. It is not the least attractive.”
“No gawking. No dawdling. I understand. It does not even sound attractive.”
She waved him off. “Go on. Supper is at seven. You will want to be on time. There will be smoked trout.”
“Excellent.”
Lady Gardner nodded and called after him. “And I remain hopeful that before the sweet is served you will offer a full account of this fresh intrigue that has engaged your interest.”
Restell stopped in the doorway and slowly turned on his heel. He raised one eyebrow in a respectful salute to her perspicacity. “You are unnatural.”
She smiled beatifically. “I’m a mother.”
Chapter 3
“Your uncle wishes to see you.”
Emma looked up from the book in her lap. The interruption was not unwelcome. She had been reading from the same page for some time and still had no comprehension of what had passed before her eyes. She closed the book and held up her hand, forestalling the maid who was already backing out of the room. “Wait, Miller, you have not told me where I can find him. Is he in his studio?”
“No, miss. In the library.” She bobbed a curtsy and made a full retreat.
Emma raised one hand to her cheek, palming her jaw first, then gently exploring the bridge of her nose. There was no longer any swelling that she could detect, but Miller’s hasty exit reminded her that the bruising had not entirely faded. This morning, when she had examined her face in the mirror, she had entertained the notion that she might take a turn in the park with Marisol and not be the object of stares, whispers, or worse, pity. The maid’s discomfort in her presence served as a warning that this would not yet be the case.
Placing the book aside, Emma rose and smoothed the front of her white muslin day dress. Her pale green shawl had slipped to her waist, and she raised it to the level of her shoulders, knotting the fringed ends just below her bodice. Emma tried to make out her reflection in the window, but the late morning sun thwarted her efforts. Her attention was caught instead by the splintering of light at the corners of the beveled panes. She stepped closer and examined the rainbow that appeared in the glass. Following the angle of the light’s entry, she looked down at herself and saw the ephemeral colors were spread across her bodice. She raised her hand so the light interlaced her fingers like a web of delicate silk threads.
“What are you doing, Emmalyn?”
The intrusion was so unexpected that Emma nearly lost her balance as she spun around. “Marisol. You startled me.”
“That is obvious. You look as if you cannot quite catch your breath. What were you doing?” Marisol untied the ribbons of her bonnet as she stepped into the salon. She removed the straw bonnet with a flourish and gave her head a toss. Ebon curls fluttered first one way, then the other, and came to rest in a manner that made a perfect frame for her heart-shaped face. Her regard was not so much curious as it was demanding.
“I was studying the light,” Emma said.
“Studying the—” Marisol waved one hand dismissively. “Oh, never mind. It cannot be important. Did I misunderstand? When I came in I thought I heard that Father desires to see you.”
“He does. I just learned of it.”
“You know he does not like to be kept waiting.”
“No,” Emmalyn said. “That is you who has no tolerance for waiting. In any event, I am going now.”
Marisol stepped aside to permit Emmalyn to pass. “Do you know who he has with him?”
Emma wished she might have reacted less visibly to this intelligence. Was it not punishment enough that her stomach roiled and a weight settled on her chest? Why did she have to show her fear by faltering in her steps? “There is someone with him?”
“Are you all right?” Marisol asked, at once solicitous. “Why, you are ashen, Emmalyn. Except where you are still a bit jaundiced, of course.”
Emma brushed aside the hand Marisol put out for her. “It’s nothing.”
“It does not appear that is the case.”
“I’m fine,” Emma said stoutly. “Really. It’s nothing.”
“You didn’t know that Father has a guest.”
“No, but that is neither here nor there.”
“Shall I make some excuse for you?”
“No. I’ll go. If Uncle is not embarrassed by my appearance, then I shan’t be.”
“You are very brave, Emmalyn.”