Chapter 3
“Cuz!” Diana burst through the morning room door, aflutter and brandishing a green box in her hand. “Look what just arrived!”
Emma happily closed the ledger of household expenses and pushed aside Peaches who’d inspected the pages more than Emma had.
She’d meant to tally the month’s current household expenditures, but she’d allowed Peaches her way.
Nor did she blame the cat for her failure because in truth for over an hour, she had fiddled and fantasized that she was a different person from the one who had been such a nitwit toward Lance yesterday.
She really was in need of a change of scenery—and heart.
“What do you have there?” Smiling, she beckoned Di. “Who doesn’t like surprises, eh?”
The box, a sage green satin affair, had clearly been hand-wrapped. The huge white satin bow intrigued her, too.
“Oh, I am certain you’ll like this one, Cuz.
” She pounced it down on the desktop and put her hands behind her back.
Di’s usual expression of joy was rising repeatedly on her toes.
Her father, Emma’s father’s younger brother, had been an exuberant fellow, even when in his cups which was daily.
Unlike Emma’s father who drank to indulge his rage, Diana’s had brought up his child with a sense of impetuosity.
Emma delighted in the girl’s tendency to find joy in life’s little pleasures.
Em had found a similar joy at the advanced old age of twenty-five after her father’s death when she’d gone to live in London with his oldest brother, her Uncle George.
Those four years had brought back some of her positive outlook on life.
The fortune her uncle had granted her upon his demise went a long way to making that more of a reality.
Di’s presence did, too. And now, only days ago, the return of Lance Winters to her life injected an air of frivolity.
Would that she could apply that happiness to all her days.
That nothing the ton did or dictated would threaten to hurt her.
Best to begin with this box! She wiggled her fingers over the lovely thing like a magician eliciting treasures.
“Hurry, hurry!” Di grasped her hands before her in prayer. “Gifts are meant to be opened wide with great abandon.”
Emma took the girl’s words with a jolt to her heart. She hadn’t known a moment’s abandon since one special man had swept her off her feet and kissed her madly ten years ago.
She cleared her throat. “Let’s do it!” She tugged at the luscious white satin bow and it melted to the desk like new butter. “Hmmm. Whoever wrapped this knew how to do a good job.”
“Yes, yes.” Di was in raptures. “What do you think it is?”
Peaches jumped up on a nearby table, curious too.
“Well! I have no idea. Did Jeffries say there was a card?”
“No. It must be inside. To keep you guessing, eh?”
Emma rolled a shoulder. She liked surprises.
Savored them. She’d received so many bouquets from suitors in the past week that the main parlor looked and smelled like a hothouse.
She’d appreciated them all and written effusive thank-you notes, even though she knew she encouraged the men beyond necessity.
But a box of green satin was an appealing new gift. Like the wildflower bouquets Lance used to pick for her. The gaily wrapped rose bush cutting he’d given her years ago when she’d admired his father’s garden in the cold northern plains. Now, now there was this lovely thing.
She licked her lips, lifted the box and found the main closure of the green satin. She grinned as she burrowed her fingers between the tightly wrapped fabric. Only one who knew how to build bridges or connect old roads would know how to enclose a box as deftly.
Inside were a jumble of items from Fortnum & Mason. A tall tin of tea leaves. Biscuits. A smaller round tin filled with sugar drops, pale peach, and to Emma’s mind, most likely that same flavor. Finally, an embroidered tea towel. Emma shook it out and Lance’s card drifted to her desk.
“Charming,” Di enthused as she sat and Peaches jumped toward her to settle on her lap. “And the card says…?”
Emma held it, the paper fragrant with tea and candied peach. “‘The sweets I missed yesterday I hope for tomorrow.’”
“Oh, I am sighing, Cuz. I like him even more than yesterday. But wait, he can’t have tea tomorrow with us,” Di frowned, disappointed. “We’ll be gone to Brighton.”
Emma was certain he knew they left then. They’d discussed it at Lady Trilling’s.
“What will you say?” Di leaned over the desk and the gift box, eager for a sweet.
Emma offered her the tin to choose as she wished. “To Lord Weatherby?”
“Yes, won’t you pen a note of thanks?”
“I will.”
“Do add that we go to Brighton tomorrow.”
“He knows that from discussion, Di. But wherever we are, I should not receive him. That would be unfair to him and I don’t want to encourage him.”
“But do tell me, Cuz, why not?”
Emma rose from her desk and walked to the window overlooking the rose garden.
Browning to the colors of autumn, all nature anticipated winter.
She awaited a new beginning for herself.
“I know I’ve been secretive about why I remained out of society.
I can tell you. I can. I find it useful only as a cautionary tale for you. ”
“Lord Weatherby and I have had a special friendship, borne in our youth. We understand each other. Complete each other’s sentences. Know intuitively what the other wants, thinks, hopes for. Except for one thing. Weatherby has a funny bone. A silly streak. I lack such a thing.
“One day ten years ago, he dressed in black, climbed his horse and waylaid the coach I rode in. He did it as a lark. I laughed at first as I climbed down. I recognized him immediately, of course. He took me to one side and kissed me. Quite…” She recalled the moment his firm hot lips met hers.
“Quite madly. There was another passenger in the coach who took delight in telling one and all about it, including news to a paper that printed the story. I was ostracized. Ruined. Unfit for good society. I retired to a secluded life. Soon after that day, Lance…Lord Weatherby who was an army engineer in the Royal Corps went off to fight in the Peninsula. I did not hear from him. I thought he did not write. I was bereft. I had to label the incident over and done…and disastrous. Only when he visited here the other day did he tell me he had written, even to my father and my uncle. My father did not reply to him. Uncle George did and it seems he miscommunicated the reasons for my retirement to his house in the country. It all seems such a tragedy over what was intended to be a bit of fun.”
Diana grew angry, pointing at Emma. “But you did not ride out dressed like a bandit and kiss someone! Cuz, Lord Weatherby did!”
“But I paid the price for it, Di. Women do. Even though—”
“Even though what, Cuz?”
“I loved his dash, his abandon. We had been friends for years, his family’s estate close by my uncles in the north.
I had encouraged Lance, loving his pranks…
and he liked mine. We were quite a pair.
” In her reverie, Emma felt the joy of that day as he leapt off his horse.
The thrill of his hot embrace. And the rapture of his kiss.
“He played a joke that day. He thought no one would care. Not as much as they did.”
“So, it was others who spoiled that for you,” Di said with bitterness. “Who are they to speak ill of you?”
“One of those in the coach that day was Lady Shackleford.”
“Oh, no!” Di froze, her sea green eyes sad. “And she used it to carve a space for herself among those with small minds and small intentions.”
“She did.” Emma stroked the white satin ribbon. “But over time, I did learn one thing from her. Never hold your breath for anyone. Do what you know is right and ignore any criticism for it. You will sleep better at night and perhaps even live longer!”