She stiffened and met the haughty stare of Penfold. It was his eyes that dropped first. He flushed and bowed again. This time his action was deferential. “Miss Gibson, Miss Amelia and Miss Serena, welcome to Westerham. His Lordship is waiting to greet you in the Green with drawing-room, if you will kindly follow me.”
Emily was not having this. She was not going to be summoned like a servant before being allowed to recover from her travels. “We will be shown to our rooms, now, if you please. I shall attend on his lordship when we are recovered from our journey.” She raised an eyebrow and Penfold knew he had met his match.
“Very well, Miss Gibson.” He snapped a finger and two footman stepped forward. “Show Miss Gibson, and Miss Amelia and Miss Serena to their apartments.”
He bowed again to Emily. “If you would like to ring when you are ready, Miss Gibson? I shall send someone to escort you down.”
Emily nodded, but did not deign to reply. Holding her torn skirt firmly in one hand, the other resting on the polished banister, Emily followed the footman. Her sisters, following her lead, straightened their backs, held their heads high and marched up the stairs, side by side, showing their solidarity and support.
The footman led them up two flights and along the corridor halting outside a pair of double doors. He opened these and, still without a word being spoken, he bowed them into their new home. Emily sailed into the room. She waited until she heard the doors click shut behind them before releasing her breath. She stared, eyes wide and her mouth open.
“Look at this, girls; our sitting-room is bigger than the drawing room at Glebe House.”
“Do you think these rugs are Persian, Em? Are we allowed to walk on them?”
Emily laughed. “Of course we are, you goose. They would not be on the floor otherwise.” The private sitting- room, with elegant
Serena ran forwards eager to explore. “Can Millie and I share this one, Em? I love the rose-pink of the bed drapes. Do you see, it matches the curtains?”
Emily followed the girls around the room, exclaiming when expected, at the opulence of its appointments, but her mind was elsewhere, rehearsing what she would say and do when she met her future husband and her grandfather.
A discreet door, inset into the wood panelling, opened into a bathing closet and adjoining dressing rooms. Jenny was busy sorting out Emily's clothes. She curtsied. “I'm almost finished, miss. Are you wishing to change your dress?”
Emily held at the torn skirt for inspection. “I must. Is this ruined, or can you repair it?”
“I'm sure it will mend, Miss Emily. Now, Miss Amelia and Miss Serena, run along next-door, Mary's waiting for you.” She smiled as the girls looked round, puzzled.
“Where's the door, Jenny? I don't see one anywhere?”
“Go back into the bed chamber; you'll see another door, you go through there.”
Amelia stopped. “Then we're not to sleep in here?”
“No, Miss Millie, this is Miss Emily's room. But yours is just as pretty, it's all done out in yellows and golds.”
It took Jenny half an hour to restore Emily's appearance. Even her long chestnut brown hair was re-done and green ribbons, that matched her second new gown, were threaded through her hair.
“There, miss, you look a picture! Green suits you, and the combination you chose, of emerald silk for the under skirt and pale green muslin into the over dress, is perfect.”
“Thank you, Jenny. I'm still rather pale, but there's nothing I can do about that.” She turned sideways and her lips curled in a smile. “I'm almost invisible from this view. It's fortunate that this new fashion pushes up one's chest; without that help I would look like a boy.”
“Go along with you, miss. You look lovely. No man in his right mind could ever mistake you for anything but a pretty young lady.”
The maid ran outside to alert the footman who was to escort her mistress downstairs. Emily brace herself for her ordeal. As Millie and Serena were to remain upstairs with Mary; she would have to brave the supercilious stares of the staff on her own. Jenny opened the door and the footman bowed.
“I am to take you to his lordship, Miss Gibson. Would you kindly follow me?”
Emily nodded and glided gracefully out of her sitting-room to retrace her steps down to the Grand Hall. She had time to wonder where her mother was and if her reunion with the Earl had progressed well, and then they were in front of imposing, ornately carved doors.
Two footmen guarded each side, like sentries. They sprang forward and flung open the double doors, leaving her framed in the doorway. One of them stepped forward and announced in a loud voice. “Miss Emily Gibson, my lords.” He bowed and disappeared back down the wide carpeted passageway.
Emily felt unwelcome perspiration trickling down her spine as she walked into the room. The elderly gentleman, with a shock of grey hair, impeccably attired in superfine topcoat, knee breeches and shining top boots, watched his eldest granddaughter approach. He smiled, just. “Welcome to Westerham, my dear. We are so glad you have found the time to join us, at last.”
Emily froze in mid-step and flags of colour appeared on her cheeks. She dropped into a low, formal curtsy, dipping her head, not wishing her anger to show. With careful elegance she rose and met the Earl of Westerham's critical gaze. “I apologize if I kept you waiting, my lord.” She stopped there, offered no further explanation, or greeting, or effusion of delight at her incredible good fortune.
The man, leaning nonchalantly against the mantelshelf, his fair hair cut fashionably short, hid his smile. His great-grandfather would not like that answer one jot. Sebastian decided that maybe he had been premature in his judgement of Miss Gibson. The girl had backbone, and intelligence, and in that rig she looked almost presentable.
The Earl snorted. Emily ignored him, standing apparently relaxed, waiting for him to introduce her to Viscount Yardley. She dared not risk a glance in the direction of the intimidating gentleman she had noticed, observing her, aloof from the proceedings.
The Earl remembered his manners. “My dear, allow me to present you to your cousin Sebastian, Viscount Yardley.”
Emily half turned and sank into a second graceful curtsy keeping her eyes down, as was expected of a well brought up young lady. To her surprise an elegant hand appeared and raised her to her feet. She looked up to meet the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They appeared to bore into her very soul. If he had had not been holding her she would have taken an involuntary step backwards. Sebastian raised her gloved hand and pressed the back lightly with his lips. She was aware that although his mouth smiled his eyes were cautious, assessing her every move and, she believed, finding her wanting.
Incensed she snatched her hand back; it was a deliberate insult, but she was unable to help herself. If his expression had been unfriendly before, now it was arctic. His eyes narrowed and she could see him clench his teeth, obviously biting back a crushing set-down.
From somewhere she found the strength to speak. “I am delighted to meet you, Cousin Sebastian.” Her cousin raked her from head to toe, dislike and disdain apparent in his every gesture.
“Are you indeed, cousin? I only wish I could say the same.” He turned and half bowed to his great- grandfather. “You will excuse me, I hope, sir?”
Without another word he sauntered out of the room leaving Emily so furious she forgot to be insulted. She glared after him, hating him, and for a glorious moment forgot that she had possibly just ruined her family's one chance of happiness.
Chapter Four
“Well, my child, you certainly knocked him from his high horse.” The Earl chuckled, much amused by his granddaughter's spirited behaviour. Emily swung back to face him, her face crumpled and tears filling her eyes. “I
