Chapter Eighteen
Emma awoke when Liese entered her room. Startled, she turned to see that she was alone in her room. She reached a hand to the spot where her husband had been and felt it still warm. She smiled.
“Good morning, Liese,” she said cheerily.
“Good morning, ma’am. His Grace sent me to see if you’ll be wanting to dress for breakfast, or have a tray in your room.”
“I believe I shall go down to breakfast,” she said, anticipating the company of her husband. Emma sent Liese away after she dressed, as she recalled the location of the breakfast room from the previous day’s tour and did not require an escort. She wore the nicest of her morning dresses, a pale green she thought complimented her brown hair and eyes. The flutter in her stomach as she went to meet her husband was entirely involuntary.
She shook her head at her own girlishness. There was no need to feel fluttery. He was her husband. They had done what husbands and wives do. She thought for a moment that food may be the cure, but the feeling intensified as she drew nearer to the breakfast room, and she knew that whatever a meal might do to lessen the feeling, the presence of her husband would have the opposite effect.
Goodness. She had better get herself together. She would be mortified to blush and stumble her way through breakfast.
“You found your way, I see.” He rose as she entered. “Did you have any difficulty?”
The smile she returned was involuntarily exuberant. “No difficulty, thank you.” Heavens. Was she blushing? She walked to the sideboard and busied herself filling a plate with toast, ham, and a boiled egg. She chose the seat at John’s right and noticed that no plate sat in front of him. “Have you finished?”
“No, actually, I was waiting for you,” he said, and flashed her a charming smile before setting about the task of filling his own plate. “Tell me,” he said once he returned to the table, “what has been your impression of Brantmoor, Emma? It has been without a chatelaine for a long while. There may be areas my father neglected.”
“None that are evident to me,” she commented. “I’ve not had an opportunity to speak much with Mrs. Dewhurst, but my impression of both the woman and the house is that she must indeed be quite competent.” Emma glanced idly at the stoic footman who stood at the ready to see to their needs. She had not noticed any lack, but was also wise enough to realize if she had commented upon anything, that fact would be swiftly reported.
“I am anxious to learn all there is to know about my new home,” Emma said.
“There will be time for all of that. We will not be at Brantmoor long, however. We must return to London to meet Charlotte’s ship when it arrives.”
“Will her ship arrive soon?”
“Very soon. I would like to depart for London tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow? She’d only been duchess for one day. She’d had yet to confirm that Mr. Crawford would indeed be abandoning his claims against Simon. She couldn’t return to London until she could be certain Simon was safe. What if Mr. Crawford had changed his mind? “Tomorrow is quite soon for me to travel. I am still unpacking my belongings and moving things from the cottage. I have matters to settle there.”
“What is there to settle?” he asked. “It’s a tiny cottage and the Browns seem competent.”
For the briefest of moments, she considered apprising him of Mr. Crawford’s threats to Simon, but she did not. Though her new husband had certainly demonstrated a nobility of character in supporting his mother and rushing to his sister’s aid, he had also demonstrated sufficient stubborn will and highhandedness to give her pause. She simply could not be confident, at this early stage, if he would honor his promise regarding the cottage. “Well, there are things to be packed. And I must make sure the Browns and Simon have directions regarding my mother’s garden.”
He set down his knife and frowned at her. “These matters shall have to wait, I’m afraid, as the arrival of Charlotte’s ship will not.”
Emma swallowed. “Certainly,” she said, “I would never suggest that you not arrive in time to meet your sister. I thought perhaps you would travel to London without me.”
“I don’t particularly like this idea,” he stated, a little more loudly, as though addressing a larger group than just Emma.
She felt a brief tug of guilt for her omissions. Could he be lamenting the lack of her company? She warmed at the thought that he was loathe to leave her behind.
“Your responsibility is to Charlotte, and Charlotte will be in London.”
Her guilt faded. He was concerned about her end of the bargain, nothing more. Well, his end of the bargain had been a promise that she could see to the cottage when necessary. “Surely you don’t expect Charlotte to begin her education the moment she disembarks,” Emma said primly. “She must have time to…absorb England. Besides, she will have missed you, and will want to reacquaint herself. I, on the other hand, am a stranger to her. Perhaps it is better that she and I meet after the two of you have been reunited.”
He eyed her unhappily. “I don’t understand. You will need to return to London. Charlotte will be there.”
“Bring Charlotte to Brantmoor. That is much better, really. You and I have just been married in the country. Everyone will expect us to host our first event as a couple when we return to town. To do so anytime soon would be premature. If Charlotte attends, she would be unprepared. If she does not attend, she will be conspicuously absent.”
“Hmmm.”
Emma could not determine if her rationale was persuading him, but she continued. “If you bring Charlotte to Brantmoor, we will have some peace and isolation in which to prepare her. We can then return to London in time to attend a few events and host a ball of our own before the season is ended.”
John leaned back in his chair and silently contemplated her suggestion. Emma wondered if he was already regretting his choice and wishing he had found a more biddable wife.
Eventually, John relented and agreed to collect Charlotte from London without her, a concession for which Emma should have been glad. But her husband left the room quietly after breakfast and her spirit was unaccountably dampened.