Page 33 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“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.
