Emily admitted, trying not to smile at the younger
woman’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, you should! It’s full of secret hiding places with lost
treasure maps and locked rooms filled with ancient relics. Does His Grace like
gothic novels?”
“I don’t know.” Trying to imagine Anthony hunched over Mrs.
Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho , Emily laughed. “I shall
have to remember to ask him. Or perhaps you can ask him yourself.”
The music ended and Miss Sykes called, “Margaret, do come
and play a duet with me.”
“There’s your chance,” Emily murmured.
“I’d be happy to if Lord Bradford will turn pages for us.”
Miss Stanhope looked in Anthony’s direction.
“I can think of nothing that would give me greater
pleasure.” Anthony bowed to Jocelyn before crossing to join the younger woman
and lead her to the piano. After a brief discussion with Miss Sykes, the music
began again.
What a cunning little flirt! By the end of the Season,
she’ll have Anthony eating out of her hand! Emily chuckled. Anthony
probably thought he was in charge of the courting and would deny that
any woman could have him under her thumb.
“May I join you, Mrs. Martin?” Sir Edgar Lennox stood in
front of her. He bowed. “Unless someone else has claimed the honor?”
“I’d be delighted,” Emily said, darting a quick glance at
Anthony. If he minded Sir Edgar joining her, his expression did not betray it.
Indeed, he appeared to be enjoying his employment as a page turner.
But something glimmered in his eyes as his glance met hers,
and she recalled the men’s previous meeting at Lady Featherstock’s home. Their
conversation this evening so far had been civil, but Anthony’s manner was cool,
suggesting meeting with Sir Edgar tonight was not something he had counted on.
Emily wondered why Jocelyn—who would have known about Sir Edgar finding the
body of Anthony’s father—had invited him. Fortunately, with so many guests in
attendance wanting to speak to Anthony, his time with Sir Edgar was brief.
“Are you enjoying London, Mrs. Martin?” Sir Edgar asked. He
looked to be in his mid-fifties and was soberly dressed. His eyes were so dark
they were almost onyx, with fine lines around them as if he had known great
sorrow. If not for his heavily pock-marked face, he would have been a
fine-looking man.
“Very much,” she told him. “So many people to meet and so
much to do. When I was living in Downby, our Society was small, indeed. And as
a vicar’s wife, I hardly traveled in the first circles.”
He nodded and glanced at the book on the table. “The
Curse of the McHeaths ,” he said. “Do you enjoy gothic novels, Mrs. Martin?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Miss Stanhope is urging me to
read a new novel, The Mystery of Blackwood Hall. She was reading to us
from this earlier, but the story frightened poor Miss Sykes so much, she
stopped. But Blackwood Hall sounds like it might be fun with its
descriptions of things hidden in people’s homes. Do you like gothic novels as
well?”
“Sometimes,” he said, echoing her reply. “I wouldn’t want to
make a steady diet of them, but perhaps I shall give The Mystery of
Blackwood Hall a try. It will astonish my daughter if I read it before she
does.”
“Then you should,” Emily said. “Just so you may enjoy her
astonishment. Have you known Jocelyn and Hugh a long time?”
“I’m Hugh’s physician,” Sir Edgar said. “One of the few
patients I still attend since my retirement last year. I’m afraid the
smallpox—” he pointed at his scarred face, “left me weakened in more ways than
one. I hope my fearful countenance doesn’t repel you?”
“Not at all,” Emily assured.
“I hear,” he said, changing the subject, “that you are the
recent recipient of a great fortune.”
“You have heard correctly,” she answered, wondering at his
sources of information.
“News travels quickly in the ton , especially during
the Season,” Sir Edgar said,
woman’s enthusiasm.
“Oh, you should! It’s full of secret hiding places with lost
treasure maps and locked rooms filled with ancient relics. Does His Grace like
gothic novels?”
“I don’t know.” Trying to imagine Anthony hunched over Mrs.
Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho , Emily laughed. “I shall
have to remember to ask him. Or perhaps you can ask him yourself.”
The music ended and Miss Sykes called, “Margaret, do come
and play a duet with me.”
“There’s your chance,” Emily murmured.
“I’d be happy to if Lord Bradford will turn pages for us.”
Miss Stanhope looked in Anthony’s direction.
“I can think of nothing that would give me greater
pleasure.” Anthony bowed to Jocelyn before crossing to join the younger woman
and lead her to the piano. After a brief discussion with Miss Sykes, the music
began again.
What a cunning little flirt! By the end of the Season,
she’ll have Anthony eating out of her hand! Emily chuckled. Anthony
probably thought he was in charge of the courting and would deny that
any woman could have him under her thumb.
“May I join you, Mrs. Martin?” Sir Edgar Lennox stood in
front of her. He bowed. “Unless someone else has claimed the honor?”
“I’d be delighted,” Emily said, darting a quick glance at
Anthony. If he minded Sir Edgar joining her, his expression did not betray it.
Indeed, he appeared to be enjoying his employment as a page turner.
But something glimmered in his eyes as his glance met hers,
and she recalled the men’s previous meeting at Lady Featherstock’s home. Their
conversation this evening so far had been civil, but Anthony’s manner was cool,
suggesting meeting with Sir Edgar tonight was not something he had counted on.
Emily wondered why Jocelyn—who would have known about Sir Edgar finding the
body of Anthony’s father—had invited him. Fortunately, with so many guests in
attendance wanting to speak to Anthony, his time with Sir Edgar was brief.
“Are you enjoying London, Mrs. Martin?” Sir Edgar asked. He
looked to be in his mid-fifties and was soberly dressed. His eyes were so dark
they were almost onyx, with fine lines around them as if he had known great
sorrow. If not for his heavily pock-marked face, he would have been a
fine-looking man.
“Very much,” she told him. “So many people to meet and so
much to do. When I was living in Downby, our Society was small, indeed. And as
a vicar’s wife, I hardly traveled in the first circles.”
He nodded and glanced at the book on the table. “The
Curse of the McHeaths ,” he said. “Do you enjoy gothic novels, Mrs. Martin?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Miss Stanhope is urging me to
read a new novel, The Mystery of Blackwood Hall. She was reading to us
from this earlier, but the story frightened poor Miss Sykes so much, she
stopped. But Blackwood Hall sounds like it might be fun with its
descriptions of things hidden in people’s homes. Do you like gothic novels as
well?”
“Sometimes,” he said, echoing her reply. “I wouldn’t want to
make a steady diet of them, but perhaps I shall give The Mystery of
Blackwood Hall a try. It will astonish my daughter if I read it before she
does.”
“Then you should,” Emily said. “Just so you may enjoy her
astonishment. Have you known Jocelyn and Hugh a long time?”
“I’m Hugh’s physician,” Sir Edgar said. “One of the few
patients I still attend since my retirement last year. I’m afraid the
smallpox—” he pointed at his scarred face, “left me weakened in more ways than
one. I hope my fearful countenance doesn’t repel you?”
“Not at all,” Emily assured.
“I hear,” he said, changing the subject, “that you are the
recent recipient of a great fortune.”
“You have heard correctly,” she answered, wondering at his
sources of information.
“News travels quickly in the ton , especially during
the Season,” Sir Edgar said,
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