Page 63 of If I Loved You
It was inconceivable, of course, to think that the earl would accept, more baffling indeed, than Mrs. Smythe’s inexplicable invitation.
Apparently, this was to be a day chock full of surprising turns.
“Would it be too much trouble?” The earl asked, while Emma stared now with steadfast concentration at Bethany, and not at him.
Mrs. Smythe tittered happily and dashed into the kitchen.
Zachary stepped around Emma and returned Bethany to her seat, taking a moment to marvel over the smaller seat upon the dining room chair, which Langdon had fashioned so that she needn’t sit upon stacks of books.
Emma turned back to the table, stood near her own chair.
“That’s some fine craftsmanship,” the earl was saying, before moving Bethany’s chair forward a bit.
He shook Langdon’s hand and then further shocked Emma by reaching his hand across the table to Callum. “Good to see you again, Mr. MacKenzie.” If Callum were surprised by this, he gave no indication, stretching his hand under the chandelier to meet with the earl’s.
“Likewise,” he said evenly, and then recalled, “This is Fiona. Fiona, this is Lord Lindsey.”
“Oh, gracious,” squeaked Fiona, and then giggled as she curtsied again.
Mrs. Smythe returned to the dining room, setting a place beside Langdon, and near her husband at the end of the table. Theearl moved to where she set him up and struck his hand at the old innkeep. “Mr. Smythe, Emma tells me you’re making great progress out in the orchard.”
Not many things surprised old Mr. Smythe, but this clearly did. His eyes lit up, and then came a rare merriment about his face, shown so beautifully in his jowly grin. He slapped his hand into the earl’s, pumping enthusiastically, before proclaiming, “I am indeed. Emma said I’ve you to thank for the fine beginning. Oh, but you’ve got to see the fruit that’s come!” Emma had never seen the man so animated in all the years she’d known him.
“I should like that,” said the earl.
Soon, everyone was seated again, save for Mrs. Smythe, who still scurried around, adding glassware, and another utensil and finally a steaming plate of her lamb stew to the setting before the earl.
And all was quiet, the housemates and regular guests seemingly struck dumb by the earl’s presence. He appeared unperturbed, or pretended ignorance of this, lifting his gaze, scanning the table, inquiring of Fiona if that linen covered basket contained bread.
Fiona, having no history with the man, this being her first dinner at the Daisies as well, nodded eagerly and passed the basket to him.
Zachary lifted the linen, his brows rising happily at the steam that rushed out, and said to Langdon, “Do you have formal training as a carpenter? Those seams are well-joined and the entire chair itself, so smooth.”
The lad blushed a bit at this fine praise. “No, milord. My da worked wood before he died, is all I know. Guess I recall a few things he might have taught me.”
These few words put the table, and the dinner, back to rights. Mr. Smythe joined in that discussion with the earl and the lad. Mrs. Smythe engaged Fiona, next to her, with some question about a frock she had seen in the window at the modiste’s, while Callum said in a low voice to Emma, who had quite a time of it trying to keep her gaze off Zachary, “You said, not one week ago, how pleased you were that all your favorite people were gathered ‘round your table. Would it be true still if you said those words now?”
Emma turned sharply to her friend, showing him a pathetic unease. No part of her imagined that his Fiona had anything to do with his very pointed query. To Callum, it was easy to give the truth. She nodded, silent, willing to give up nothing else.
“Shame then, that you look so outrageously miserable.” Callum made a face, wrinkling his brow and twisting his lips, all without harshness. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want ever to regret that I hadn’t at least tried.”
She didn’t bother to pretend that she knew not of what he spoke. “I am frightened,” she whispered, thinking she might not have admitted as much to many other people.
“But that man is sitting here, rather without fear. It’s not too his liking, but he’ll do it, probably a hundred times more if you ask, for you.”
Primly, she said, still keeping her voice low, “It’s all for show, I’m sure.”
“Might be, but the point is, he’s doing it. You think an earl wants to dine with us? He doesn’t, trust me.”
Emma felt compelled to confess, “I think it’s beyond repair at this point.”
Callum shook his head. “He’s here, so that cannot be true. But let’s find out.” He straightened, pulling away from Emma, and called across the table, “Hey Lindsey, you ever get to fishing in that big lake of yours?”
The earl did not even blink at Callum’s nearly rude address, only shrugged his broad shoulders and answered, “Not as often as I’d like. But I’ve been assured there’s good brown trout, and plenty of eels. Feel free to test it out.”
“I might, at that. Care to join me?” Callum persisted.
“Sure. Let me know when. I’m home for the remainder of the year.”
