Page 68 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“You have visitors,” he said.
Her heart leaped. For a moment, she was certain it must be Violet, but that was ridiculous. Violet was on her way to Essex, or perhaps she was already there.
“Who is it?”
The furrow deepened. “Missus and Miss Snowe.”
Emma racked her brain. “I don’t recognize those names,” she admitted.
“They live on a neighboring estate and are acquaintances of the duke’s,” he said.
Ah. “Mr. Snowe is a local landowner?”
“That’s right, Your Grace,” he said.
She understood now. The Snowes must be members—or even leaders—of local society, and they wanted to be the first to report on the new duchess.
“Thank you. Please show them to the gold drawing room.”
He bowed. “As you wish.”
The gold drawing room was their most impressive. No doubt these people would want to know if she could hold her own amongst them, and she intended to leave no doubt in their minds that she was up to the task.
As she made her way down the corridor, she encountered one of the housemaids.
“Beth,” she said. “Could you please make sure that tea and cakes are brought to the gold drawing room? We have guests.”
Beth curtseyed. “Of course, Your Grace.”
Emma continued to the drawing room and made herself comfortable on an intricately carved wooden seat with plushpadding. Only a few moments later, a pair of ladies swept into the room, bringing with them a heavy floral scent. Emma’s nose tickled, and she willed herself not to sneeze.
She stood to greet them. “Good morning.”
The pair stopped side by side and bobbed their heads. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
The woman on the left was clearly older, so she must be Mrs. Snowe. Her brown hair was interspersed with silver, and her eyes were so dark, they looked almost black, sending a shiver down Emma’s spine.
In contrast, Miss Snowe was quite pretty. She was tall and slender with eyes a more natural shade of brown and glossy dark hair curled tightly at the front.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” Emma said. “I haven’t yet met any of our neighbors—other than the tenants, of course. Please, sit.”
She reclaimed her chair, and Mrs. and Miss Snowe sat on similar seats around the small rectangular table.
“I’m surprised we are the first to call on you,” Mrs. Snowe said, but a satisfied smirk curled her lips. “I am Mrs. Catherine Snowe, and this is my daughter, Miss Susannah Snowe.”
Emma couldn’t help but think that Susannah Snowe sounded like the name of a heroine from a gothic love story.
“I’m Lady Emma,” Emma said. “Or I was, before my marriage. My father is the Earl of Carlisle.”
They both nodded, but their bland expressions said that this wasn’t news to them.
There was a sound in the hall, and then Beth bustled in with tea. She set it down in front of Emma and left, closing the door behind herself.
“Tea?” Emma asked her visitors.
“Yes, please,” Mrs. Snowe said. “With sugar.”
“No sugar for me,” Miss Snowe added.
