Chapter 19 #2
With that said, Roman nodded once, the mask of duty settling back over him. “I imagine you have things to do, now that you are an engaged man. I will tell you what happened at the club later.”
Rising, Lyness made it halfway to the door before he turned. “I am escorting Lady Emily and our mother to the races this afternoon. Will you come?” Lyness waited, the olive branch extended, and hope in his heart.
Roman turned toward the window, hands braced on its sill, shoulders rigid. But he said, without a trace of bitterness, “Of course. That will show a united front. I will ready myself in a moment.”
Lyness bowed his head, then left the room with purpose, the weight of the discussion settling into something almost solemn.
An understanding between brothers, and renewed respect on Lyness’s part.
Roman had ever and always been his closest friend and confident.
That he had his brother’s blessing, that Roman was not angry with him, was a balm to Lyness’s heart.
Now all he had to do was win Lady Emily Sterling’s love. Preferably before they married. He could imagine no greater happiness than that.
At the appointed hour, Emily had barely stepped into the entryway when the Eastwoods arrived. They came into the cottage, and Lady Hartwell greeted her as though they were old friends reunited after years of separation. Even though they had seen one another before dawn that morning.
“My dear Lady Emily,” she exclaimed, taking both of Emily’s hands and inspecting her with the air of a florist cooing over a rare bloom. “You look pale, yes, but still as sweet as a daisy after rain.”
Emily tried to restrain her smile to something polite, but it proved difficult. “That is kind of you to say, my lady.”
“Oh, I only speak the truth.” Lady Hartwell squeezed her hands gently, then looked at her sons. “Roman, Lyness—I warn you now, my future daughter-in-law is bound to be my favorite. I will not tolerate anything but the best of treatment for her.”
That made Emily’s face heat with a blush, and her stomach twisted with sudden nerves. Indeed, a betrothal to Lyness meant becoming part of the whole family. She cast the baron a glance, uncertain how to act for a moment.
To his credit, he bowed and met her gaze evenly.
“It is precisely what I expected, Mother. Lady Emily will have my full brotherly support.” There was likely much more to his words than what Emily heard and saw.
He stepped back with the resigned air of a man well accustomed to his mother’s edicts.
Lyness, however, stepped forward with a warmth in his eyes that nearly undid her composure.
It surprised her, to react so strongly to him in such short order. “Mr. Eastwood,” she murmured with a self-conscious smile. “Thank you for escorting me to the races this afternoon.”
“It is my pleasure, my lady. But please. We are with family. Call me Lyness,” he reminded her.
Goodness. That made the heat in her cheeks increase. She was likely as red as a strawberry.
Jack came in from a side door, moving more like a soldier than a gentleman at his ease. He bowed to the company. “Thank you for your attentions to my sister, Lady Hartwell. I hope the races prove entertaining this afternoon. We will join everyone later, at the theater.”
That pricked at Emily’s confidence. She held a hand out to catch her brother’s arm. “You are not coming to the races with us? Is everything all right?”
“My wife has a small headache,” he said to the others, then made eye contact with Emily. “Juniper is laying down to rest,” he said softly. “But she wishes you well on your outing.”
“We had best not doddle, then,” Lady Hartwell said. “Give your wife my best wishes, Mr. Sterling. I look forward to seeing her this evening.” So saying, she slipped her arm through the crook of her eldest son’s, while Emily accepted Lyness’s escort, and they all walked out of doors.
They were in the carriage in short order. Lady Hartwell ushered Emily inside first, insisting she take the more comfortable corner. The baroness settled beside her. Lyness followed, sitting across from Emily, and then his brother completed their party, arms folded tightly across his chest.
“There. Now we are all perfectly situated,” Lady Hartwell said as the carriage lurched into motion. “Lady Emily, if at any moment you wish to rest your head upon my shoulder, do not be shy. I am quite used to delicate flowers wilting during Race Week.”
Emily managed a small laugh. “I hope not to wilt, my lady.”
“Oh, we all wilt,” Lady Hartwell declared brightly. “The trick is finding the person who knows how to straighten your stem again.”
Roman made a sound that was half-sigh, half-plea. “Mother.” His normal composure disappeared for a moment, a crease appeared in his forehead as he looked at Lyness.
“Oh hush, Roman, it was entirely appropriate.” She glanced toward Lyness, then at Roman again. “Do not glare at your brother simply because he has more sense than the rest of us.”
That startled Emily. “More sense?”
Lady Hartwell nodded warmly. “Of course. The moment I heard the truth of the matter—that my Lyness declared your engagement because he cared for you—I thought, Yes. That is exactly the sort of thing a young couple needs. It is not a conventional start, but it is one built on regard and respect.”
The carriage seemed to shrink around Emily.
Lyness went scarlet in front of her.
Roman exhaled sharply through his nose. “Mother—”
But Lady Hartwell was undeterred. “I do not meddle, I merely observe,” she said, hands folded serenely over her reticule. “And I have observed that my younger son is at his best when he cares for someone. He is very like a sunflower turning toward light.”
Oh dear. Her cheeks would never cool if this continued. She glanced toward Lyness.
He met her gaze for a moment—long enough for her to see the rawness there, the quiet earnestness, the hope within his eyes. Then he turned to the baroness. “Careful, Mother. You may make Emily come to regret her association with us if you begin your flower metaphors too early.”
“Not at all,” Emily said softly. “You will recall, I have a great interest in flowers of my own. There is nothing to regret.” She certainly did not regret her attachment to him.
Though she did not know what she felt, not yet—not through the fog of exhaustion, headache, and shock—but she knew it could not be regret. “I am glad he was there,” she said softly. “That they both were.”
Lyness’s eyes widened a fraction. Roman looked between them, something unreadable flickering across his features—not anger, not quite jealousy. Something quieter. Something Emily did not have a word for. Had she erred in giving them both credit for her rescue?
Lady Hartwell clapped her hands once, delighted. “Then everything will come right in the end. I always say, if young people are going to find themselves in dramatic situations, they might as well come out of them with an engagement.”
“Mother,” Roman said again, but without force. “When have you ever said such a thing?”
“Oh, hush, Roman. I said it just now, didn’t I?” she said, waving a hand dismissively toward him.
The carriage wheels thudded over a rut. Emily braced herself with one hand on the seat, and Lyness reacted instantly—leaning forward, hand half-extended, barely stopping himself before reaching to steady her.
She noticed. Lady Hartwell noticed. Roman noticed.
Emily put a hand to her bonnet to adjust it and smiled faintly at him. “Thank you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed above his cravat. “Of c-course.”
The warmth that came from his gaze was quiet, small, but unmistakable—like the first stirrings of sunlight warming earth before spring.
Perhaps his mother was wrong about who was the flower and who the sun, as Emily felt rather like turning toward him, seeking whatever warmth she might find in that affectionate look.
As the Knavesmire came into view with crowds shifting like bright ribbons across the green, Lady Hartwell leaned in conspiratorially.
“When you descend from the carriage, my dear, take Lyness’s arm without hesitation.
Let people see you are comfortable. Confidence is the best armor you can wear at a time like this.
” It was the only indication that there was a performance to make, and it immediately brought Emily’s mind back to the seriousness of the situation.
Emily gave a firm nod. “I will try, my lady.”
“I have every faith in you, my dear,” Lady Hartwell said gently. “You are already braver than you think.”
The carriage rolled to a stop. Roman stepped out first, then offered his hand to his mother. Lyness moved next, turning back toward the doorway after he landed upon the ground. Emily set her hand into his. He held it firmly, with a confidence she wished she felt on her own.
“Ready?” Lyness asked quietly.
“No,” she admitted. “But I am willing.”
His faint, amused smile felt like a reward. They stepped out together into the bright swirl of the races, their linked hands a silent announcement that traveled faster than any carriage.
The sunlight struck her with far more enthusiasm than she could muster for it, but Lyness’s steady hand around hers kept her from retreating into the carriage.
The air smelled of trampled grass and horses, and the faint sweetness of crushed clover beneath the wheels of passing conveyances.
People in vibrant race-day attire streamed along the edge of the track like peacocks strutting across a lawn.
Emily’s heart fluttered. So many faces. So many glances turning their way.
Lyness stepped slightly closer, not touching her beyond the hand he already held, but shielding her all the same. “It will not be overwhelming once we start walking,” he murmured.
She looked up at him. “You cannot know that.” It was nearly the same thing Juniper had told her about the ball and dancing. That certainly had turned out the most overwhelming experience of her life.