Page 12 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Emmeline frowned as she walked down to the drawing room. She had noticed a coach in the carriage path, and for a moment, her heart had leapt, thinking that Stanley and Rebecca had finally arrived, possibly with Starlight, her beloved horse. But when she narrowed her gaze, she realised it wasn’t the mail coach that would bring her servants, but a private carriage instead.

Lady Rilendale might be expecting visitors, she told herself firmly. After just a week at Rilendale, she still had no real idea of the comings and goings in the house.

She walked towards the stairs and as she did so, the sound of voices floated up to her. She tensed as Andrew’s voice cut through the chatter. His voice, with its distinctively clipped accent and deep, resonant tone, sent a flush to her cheeks, though she could not have explained why. She stood rooted to the spot, her heart quickening as the sound of approaching footsteps grew nearer.

“...and it’s been so many years since we last paid a visit. We have no idea what to expect...” A woman’s voice remarked. It was a refined, low voice and Emmeline’s stomach turned queasy. The voice reminded her of the women of the Ton who had scared her the most, the sleek, groomed ones who had every hair in place and seemed to know all the little fashionable things to say and do.

“Lydia, it is all in order. I assure you that Grandma will recognise you right away.”

“Good. Good,” A man’s voice said seriously.

Emmeline’s frown deepened and then as she was about to walk to the drawing room, two visitors reached the top flight of stairs and looked directly at her. Andrew spoke.

“Emmeline! We have some unexpected callers.” His voice was tense, and Emmeline picked up on it immediately. It was a little higher pitched and lacked that resonant tone. “May I introduce you to my cousin, Lord Epworth, and his sister, Miss Randell?”

“Pleased to meet you, my lord. Miss Randell,” Emmeline murmured, dipping into a curtsey. She glanced at the two visitors as she straightened up again. Lord Epworth was tall, though not quite as towering as Andrew, with the same dark hair and sharp features. His chin was more pronounced, and his eyes were a deep, probing dark. They regarded her with a shrewd intelligence. She looked down uncomfortably. Something about his gaze disconcerted her a little, though she could not have said what.

Her gaze shifted to the lady who stood beside him. She wore a very rich, very fashionable, red gown and her dark brown hair—the same as Andrew’s once again—was styled in soft curls about her face and drawn back in a chignon. She was undeniably elegant, and Emmeline could not help but acknowledge her beauty—with a long oval face and impeccably manicured brows. Her eyes were a lighter shade of brown compared to Lord Epworth’s, but no less striking. She smiled warmly.

“How lovely to meet you!” Her tone conveyed joy, but Emmeline could not quite read the same warmth in her eyes. “We were just congratulating Andrew. What a surprise. It must have been the talk of the Ton.”

“No,” Emmeline said honestly as she fell into step with the guests. “It wasn’t.”

Miss Randell blinked in disbelief for a moment. Behind her, Andrew beamed. Her cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with shyness.

“Oh. I... I would have thought...” Miss Randell stammered. “I would have thought everyone would have talked of it.” She seemed staggered that someone could be so direct. Emmeline glanced at Andrew. His eyes were sparkling, though he had succeeded in hiding his grin. She bit her lip, wanting to smile too.

“It was very quiet,” Andrew explained, so Emmeline did not have to. “We preferred it that way. No fuss.”

“Oh. Oh, of course,” Miss Randell answered, as though that made sense.

They all walked into the drawing room.

“Grandma!” Lord Epworth’s voice was bright and joyous. “Why! We have not seen you for years.”

He rushed toward Lady Rilendale.

He moved to Lady Rilendale’s side without hesitation, while Miss Randell took her place beside the chair. Lord Epworth knelt before her; his joy apparent but edged with a subtle stiffness. Emmeline watched as Lady Rilendale’s eyes widened in surprise. She did not rise to embrace either of them but stayed seated as Lord Epworth took her hand and held it tight.

“Grandma! It’s been an age. ”

“We are so glad to see you,” Lydia echoed.

“Ambrose. Lydia.” Lady Rilendale looked from one cousin to the other. “What a surprise.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, rather than filled with joy or any other feeling.

“We simply had to visit. It has been fourteen years,” Lord Epworth said firmly.

“Yes. We had to call on you and see how you fare,” Miss Randell agreed.

“It’s a very unexpected visit,” Lady Rilendale commented. “You will be staying with us, I trust?”

“Oh, yes, Grandma,” Lord Epworth declared. “We shall remain for at least a fortnight. It has been a long journey, and we would be delighted to spend time with you and our dear cousin Andrew for as long as possible.”

“And, of course, we must meet our cousin’s new countess,” Miss Randell agreed, smiling at Emmeline. Emmeline tensed, wondering why it seemed to her as though that smile was not quite sincere. It seemed polite enough, yet her years of navigating the judgmental and fickle Ton had taught her to recognise smiles that stopped short of the eyes.

“Yes. Yes. I am glad you will meet our dear Emmeline,” Lady Rilendale said offering Emmeline a warm and genuine smile. The edges of Miss Randell’s smile became frostier, and Emmeline swallowed hard. Evidently being held in Lady Rilendale’s affection was something the cousins might envy her.

“Perhaps we should have tea?” Andrew suggested, his tone tight with underlying unease. Emmeline gazed at Lady Rilendale, who frowned.

“It seems a little late for tea, Andrew, dear. I will make my evening turn about the garden, and then perhaps we should proceed to the dining room and call for an early dinner.” She glanced at the cousins. “You must be weary and famished from your journey. Mayhap you would like to refresh yourselves and then come down to the dining room. Or perhaps Lydia and Emmeline might care to join me for a walk about the grounds?” She looked hopefully at Lydia and Emmeline tensed.

Ambrose glanced at Lydia, and she frowned as if they were exchanging a question, and then Miss Randell shook her head.

“I am sorry, Grandma. But we are, as you say, tired from the journey. If it would not upset you, I would rather retire and rest before dinner.”

Lady Rilendale frowned, then nodded. “Of course. Of course.” She smiled at Emmeline. “Then you will be joining me, Emmeline? ”

“Of course,” Emmeline said automatically. She had taken to accompanying Lady Rilendale on her strolls—either in the morning or in the evening—and she enjoyed their time together. Lady Rilendale was pleasant company, and it was interesting to hear stories of Andrew and the estate when Lady Rilendale was young.

“Well!” Andrew sounded pleased. “Let us make our way downstairs, then. Cousins? I will have rooms made ready for you. Perhaps you will wait here in the drawing room until they are completed?” He rang for the butler. Emmeline went to Lady Rilendale, who was getting up from her chair. Andrew stood back for Lady Rilendale at the door, and the butler arrived a second or two later.

“Please have beds made up for my cousins in the new guest quarters,” Andrew asked.

“At once, my lord.” The butler bowed and withdrew.

Emmeline glanced at Andrew. It seemed impolite to leave the cousins sitting by themselves, but Andrew clearly wished to have a moment of peace away from them. She went through the door and a second later she heard Andrew walking down the hallway to join her and Lady Rilendale as they went to the door.

“How strange, that they are here,” Andrew murmured to his grandmother. Lady Rilendale shrugged.

“Well, they are,” she said mildly. Emmeline frowned. Lady Rilendale did not seem overly delighted to see her grandchildren. But then, Emmeline guessed, she was already tired. She tended to become tired easily, she had noticed. They did not go far on their evening strolls—often just to a bench to sit and watch the evening sunshine in the garden.

Andrew went to the dining room to wait for the cousins, and Emmeline and Lady Rilendale went outdoors to the garden.

“A fine evening,” Lady Rilendale murmured as they neared the bench under the big tree. Emmeline blinked in surprise. Lady Rilendale had been unusually quiet as they walked across the lawn.

“Yes,” Emmeline agreed. “Very fine.”

“A fine time of day. Not too hot, or too cold.” Lady Rilendale commented as they settled on the bench. Emmeline nodded.

“Quite so,” she replied. She frowned. She would have expected Lady Rilendale to be more forthcoming about the new arrivals—they were her grandchildren, after all. But she seemed to wish to talk about other things. Her gaze was focused on the big pine tree across from them near the house.

“I remember Adeline used to love sitting there,” Lady Rilendale murmured. “Little Andrew would play on the lawn there for hours and she watched him and read a book sometimes. He loved being outside. He used to giggle and watch the leaves blowing in the wind, even when he was a tiny baby.” She smiled at the memory.

“Truly?” Emmeline grinned at the thought. It was impossible to imagine Andrew as a little baby. It was hard enough to imagine babies at all. As the only child in her family, she had never even seen one up close. Her cheeks flushed with heat thinking that if she and Andrew were to...do whatever it was that married couples did, then she could also have a child. She had heard some maids giggling about what men and women did to make babies, but she had dismissed what they were saying as wild invention. Yet, when Andrew spoke in that low, resonant voice or his gaze lingered on her, she experienced feelings she had never imagined.

“Yes, he was such a lovely child—such a gentle soul. You must have seen his portrait, surely?”

"No!" Emmeline replied, her eyes widening with surprise before breaking into a smile. "I have not seen it!"

“Well, then,” Lady Rilendale said warmly. “You must come to the gallery one day. There is a portrait of him from when he was about a year old.”

“I shall,” Emmeline promised. Her cheeks lifted in a smile. If she saw the portrait of Andrew as a baby, it would be easier to release the last vestiges of her suspicion that he had murdered the late Lord Rilendale. It was hard enough to imagine it already, after seeing how caring and attentive he was towards Lady Rilendale, but that might help to dispel her last traces of fear. She was still slightly intimidated by him, despite her growing certainty that he was not the murderer the rumours suggested. He was so cold, so distant, it was hard to understand. He might make more sense if she saw him as a baby.

They sat on the bench for a while and then Lady Rilendale wrapped her arms around herself as if she was chilly.

“It’s getting cold,” she commented. “Soon the lawn will be soaked with dew. Let us go inside, my dear.”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

They went into the house together .

In the dining room, the cousins had already arrived. Miss Randell had changed into a blue gown, a striking one of a deep blue colour. Lord Epworth had also refreshed himself and changed into a new shirt and trousers. Andrew was wearing the same outfit he had been wearing when he came back from riding. Emmeline glanced down at her own dress. She had not changed for dinner and wore the same green gown she had worn all day. At Rilendale they never changed for dinner—she preferred it to the intense formality of London. All the same, she was a little awkward seeing their guests had washed and dressed.

“Ah! Grandma,” Lord Epworth greeted Lady Rilendale as she came into the room. “Grand. May I pull out your chair for you?” He went to Lady Rilendale’s chair—she sat halfway down the table between Emmeline, at the foot, and Andrew at the head. Andrew blinked in surprise. Like Lord Epworth, he had stood when the two ladies entered the room, but Andrew always allowed Lady Rilendale as much independence as she could have, never doing things for her unless she needed him to.

“Thank you,” Lady Rilendale said, but she did not sound pleased.

She sat down and Emmeline went to her place at the foot of the table. Lydia sat opposite Lady Rilendale, and Ambrose sat beside her, on Andrew’s right.

“You may serve the first course,” Andrew told the butler, and Mr Pearson walked around the table, ladling out soup for first herself, Lady Rilendale and Miss Randell, and then for the men. He withdrew and Lord Epworth glanced at Andrew.

“Have you been in London for the Season?” he asked. “We were too busy at the estate to attend.”

“No, I was not in London,” Andrew said lightly, reaching for a glass of water and taking a long, slow sip.

“Oh?” Miss Randell frowned. She turned to Emmeline. “But then, how...or rather, where...” She trailed off.

“We met through a mutual friend,” Emmeline said smoothly. That was partly true, at least.

Andrew gave her a relieved glance and Miss Randell arched a brow.

“But in London, though, surely?” Her voice suggested anything else would be impossible or indecent.

“Yes,” Emmeline agreed. That, again, was true. “We met in London.”

“Ah.” She let out a sigh as if that explained everything. “You knew each other a long time? ”

“No,” Emmeline said briefly. “Not particularly long.”

Miss Randell gaped at her. Emmeline said nothing, just poured herself some water and sipped it. Her years of facing the Ton at balls and parties had taught her not to care about ridicule and censure. Though they still discomforted her, just as insincere smiles and judgmental glances did, she had her father’s advice in her head and now she almost enjoyed discomforting her.

“Have you visited London this Season?” Andrew asked Miss Randell.

“We were in London on our way to visit you,” Lord Epworth replied. “We boarded at a most satisfactory inn.”

“Oh.” Andrew inclined his head. “Good, good.”

“You must be pleased to have retired to the country,” Miss Randell commented to Emmeline. “Being in London must have been exhausting. You would both have been so much in the public eye following the wedding.”

“We were not in London at all,” Emmeline told her truthfully.

“The ceremony was here, in Rilendale chapel,” Andrew commented.

“Oh?” Lord Epworth blinked. Emmeline tensed—nobody had invited the cousins, and perhaps that was the reason for their comments.

“Yes. We wished to have just the immediate relatives there—and besides, the chapel is too small for many guests. We chose to have it on the estate so Grandma could attend,” Andrew explained.

“Oh. Oh! That is delightful,” Miss Randell replied, smiling at Lady Rilendale. Emmeline watched as Lady Rilendale sipped her water and nodded.

“It was,” she agreed.

Emmeline bit her lip. It seemed she was not the only one who was happy to play a little with their guests. She glanced at Andrew and blushed.

He was watching her, and his blue eyes held a tenderness she had never expected to see there. She looked down at her plate shyly. His gaze was fixed on her, but she had never seen such a soft expression on his face. Her cheeks were suddenly hot, and she fiddled with the tablecloth, distracting herself from his gaze.

“You must tell Ambrose and Lydia about your riding,” Lady Rilendale said to Andrew. “It seems you have been on some fine rides lately.”

“It must be most uncomfortable riding here in the countryside if you are used to London,” Miss Randell said to Emmeline .

Emmeline caught Andrew’s gaze across the table. He grinned and Emmeline frowned.

“Lady Rilendale is an excellent horsewoman,” he told her.

Emmeline gaped at him. How in Perdition’s name did he know she rode? She glanced at Lady Rilendale, to whom she had confided a little about Starlight, her mare, and how much she missed her, but she had said nothing about her own riding.

Miss Randell stared at her, then at Andrew. “Is she?” she asked.

Emmeline swallowed hard. “I ride a little,” she demurred.

Andrew just smiled at her. “I think Lady Rilendale is a little modest,” he said mildly.

Emmeline blushed and looked at the table.

Dinner progressed, and three or four courses appeared on the table. The quality and quantity of their food had improved at Rilendale even over the last week and her stomach was full and contented when they went up to bed.

When she had washed her face and hands and was in bed, her long hair tied back with a ribbon from her face, she curled up under the coverlet and found her mind wandering to the dinner and what Andrew had said.

If he was a murderer, she thought slowly, it barely showed. He was affable and kind and she could not help feeling a surge of warmth towards him.

She frowned, confused. Her feelings were an utter mystery to her.

She drew the coverlet up around her and with her head on the soft pillows she was soon drifting into a good sleep.