granddaughter, Emily Gibson. I do not see why you are so outraged.”
The tall, elegant young man, kicked viciously at a log in the grate, making the sparks shoot up the wide chimney. “I have no desire to become leg shackled, my lord. I have my duties in the government to perform. Taking a wife in such circumstances would be the height of folly. Good God, sir, I am hardly in the country at the moment. Since Boney escaped from Elba I could be sent abroad at any moment, surely you understand that?”
“Exactly, my boy, and what happens if you are killed? I know you are a diplomat, but you are often at the front line of battle, are you not?” Reluctantly Sebastian nodded. “You have no heir, with your death the title would die out, would you have that happen?”
“No, of course not.” Sebastian turned, flicked a piece of ash from his glossy top boots, and strolled back to stare unhappily out of the window. Acres of lush parkland rolled away from him.
Westerham had been in the Lessing family for hundreds of years; he owed it to his ancestors to ensure it remained so. He supposed great-grandfather was correct; he really had no choice. He needed to marry and set up his nursery.
“Very well, sir; I accept that I need to find a wife. But why my second cousin Emily? I did not know of her existence until five minutes ago. And what makes you suppose she would wish to marry me?”
The Earl chuckled and his harsh features softened. “Here, my boy, read this.” He waved a much crumpled piece of paper in front of Sebastian who reached over and took it. He read the missive with growing astonishment. His finally arched eyebrows disappeared under his fashionably cropped hair. His voice dripped with disdain.
“Emily Gibson, my lord, is outrageous. To offer herself up for sale in this manner shows a lack of refinement and breeding I could not countenance in a wife of mine.”
“How dare you insult my granddaughter, Yardley. I will not have a word said against Emily.” The Earl glared at his great-grandson until the younger man flushed and looked away. Sebastian did not offer an apology. “It is my fault, you see; I blamed her mother for my wife's death. The child wrote to me two years ago begging for my assistance when her father died but I ignored her appeal.” The old man openly wiped his eyes. “I am head of the family; it is my job to take care of them. I have been very remiss not to have done so before. I want to be reconciled with my daughter, Althea, before I meet my maker.”
Sebastian snorted. “Well and good, sir. You can do that without involving me in your plans, can you not?”
“I am four and eighty, my boy, and however robust I appear, I can not have long left on this earth. You wish to find a wife, my granddaughter wishes to find a husband, what better arrangement could there be?”
“I could select a wife for myself.”
“When do you have the opportunity? You are not part of the fashionable set, you do not attend Almack's, or debutante balls, how are you going to meet someone more suitable, tell me that?”
Sebastian shook his head in frustration. He could feel himself being pushed into a corner. Then unexpectedly he smiled. “Very well, my lord. I will agree to meet this young woman, but if she is not to my liking, I reserve the right to refuse. Is that acceptable?”
The Earl of Westerham smiled back. “Excellent! I am sure Emily will be a lovely girl; her mother was a diamond of the first water at her age. She is certainly resourceful and intelligent. Her letters to me are proof of that at least.”
“When do you wish me to return to inspect the girl?”
“I intend to send my carriage for them today; it is to be hoped they would be here by the end of the week. There are two younger girls as well. It will be wonderful to hear the sound of children about this huge empty place once more.”
Sebastian shuddered. He had three unknown country cousins to contend with? What a lowering thought; if he decided to marry the eldest, Emily, he supposed he would be expected to provide for the other two as well. He had no dealings with children and desired to keep it that way for as long as possible.
“I must return to town, sir. I am wanted in Cabinet. I will endeavour to visit Westerham sometime next week.”
The two men, so alike in both appearance and personality that they constantly clashed, parted, for once, on amicable terms. Two hours after Viscount Yardley's departure an enormous crested travelling carriage, complete with coachman, groom and two postilions, lumbered out, followed by an empty baggage cart and two armed outriders. No one with any sense risked the roads without adequate protection from highway men and footpads.
From her hidden position at the study window Emily watched the impressive carriage trundle up their rutted drive, her heart pounding with apprehension. Her grandfather had responded to her letter in a way she had not anticipated.
She heard pounding, childish footsteps approaching down the corridor. The study door burst open and Millie and Serena erupted into the room. “Em come and see. There's a huge crested coach coming down the drive. Whoever can it be? Do we know anyone like that?”
Emily swallowed. “Yes, my love, we do. Don't you remember that our grandfather is the Earl of Westerham? That is why mother is known as Lady Althea Gibson, not Mrs Gibson.”
“But Mama does not speak to him. How can he be here?” Millie's voice was shrill.
“Calm yourself, Amelia, and I'll explain.” Emily waited for her sisters to be quiet. “I wrote to grandfather explaining that Mama was unwell and asked him if he could help in any way.” Never would she admit to her sisters, or her mother, the true contents of her letter.
“And he has come himself? Do you think he's in the coach?” Serena piped.
“No, darling, I'm sure he is not. He must be well over eighty now. I'm certain he would never travel so far.”
“Then who is it? Why's the coach coming here?”
“Amelia, don't be so impatient. I have no more idea than you do. Now run along and tell Edwards; she will wish to prepare Mama.” She took Serena's hand. “You stay with me; we will go and wait in the morning room together.”
Scarcely ten minutes later a loud knocking was heard on the front door. The one remaining maid-servant, Sally, hurried to answer the summons. Outside stood an impressive array of people. A black garbed gentleman headed the queue.
“Is Lady Althea Gibson, at home?”
The girl dropped a nervous curtsy. “Yes, sir, that she is. Will you come in, please? Who will I tell her is waiting?”
“Mr Foster, the Earl of Westerham's man of business. I have a letter for Miss Emily Gibson and one for Lady Althea. Deliver them for me please.”
“Please to wait in the ante-room, sir. I will take the letters directly.” The frightened girl left Mr Foster in the small room next to the entrance hall. She hesitated, not sure if the waiting grooms and outriders should be directed elsewhere.
“My staff will wait outside.”
'Yes, Mr Foster, sir, thank you.” The girl hastily closed the door and scuttled across the shabby hall to find Miss Emily. She knew Lady Althea was asleep in her bed, even though it was past noon.
“I have two letters here, Miss Emily.”
“Thank you, I shall take them both. Could you take in some refreshment for our visitor?”
With shaking hands she broke the impressive seal and unfolded the letter. Her youngest sister watched anxiously as the colour drained from Emily's face.
“What is it, Em, is it bad news? Has our grandfather died?”
Emily pulled herself together sufficiently to answer. “No, darling. It's very good news indeed. Grandfather has invited us all to live with him at Westerham. He is to take care of us in future. Is that not splendid news?”
Chapter Two
