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
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
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