Becoming Countess, page 7
"Emma, this is my daughter, Analissa, and her husband, Lord Whicke, " the dowager introduced as the first course was served.
Emma smiled at the expectant mother to her left. She had dark hair like her brother, curled and pinned to perfection, a pearl comb tucked into the mass atop her head. The olive green satin gown she wore complimented her skin wonderfully and made her green eyes sparkle vividly. The woman smiled gracefully back at her, the gesture reminding her of her mother when she entertained guests she was not fond of. Emma wasn't the only one performing.
"Pleasure to meet you both," Emma nodded to each of them. "Your brother spoke of you warmly," she said to Analissa.
"How kind of him," Analissa replied.
"And out of character," Lord Whicke chuckled. "He must have been in a good mood at the time to spout such falsehoods! Those two bicker like cats and dogs!"
"He was quite genuine," Emma insisted.
"My husband is an only child and doesn't understand the contradictory relationships of siblings," Analissa said, patting Lord Whicke's hand affectionately. "Do you have siblings, your grace?" she asked.
"Please, call me Emma. We are family now," she said.
"Of course," Analissa smiled. "Then I insist you call me Ana," she returned. "I trust your journey home was a smooth one?" Analissa asked, looking at Emma and then to her mother.
"As smooth as can be expected," the dowager answered vaguely. "Any issues in our absence?" she asked, addressing Lord Whicke.
"Nothing unexpected," he returned with equal vagueness. Emma sensed a power struggle happening between them, and was more reluctant than ever to take on the position of countess.
The conversation came to a halt and Emma took the opportunity to study the rest of the dinner party, wondering about the identities of the other twenty people dining with them. No one offered introduction or explanation and Emma didn't ask.
During her perusal, her eyes caught the gaze of her husband and they stared at each other for a frozen moment. Emma saw a hint of loneliness and regret in his eyes, but it was gone quickly and he looked away again, speaking to a young lady beside him who had a bright smile and fair face.
Her gut twisted and Emma was surprised to realize she was jealous of the pretty young lady. Emma watched her as she giggled, touching the earl's arm as she did and earning a warm, affectionate smile from him. Emma thought the lady would've made a much better countess than herself, and the earl already clearly loved her. Emma wondered once again what had happened to change everything and bring herself into the picture. She didn't belong there any more than a weed belonged in a garden.
"You have gotten very pale," Analissa commented with a show of concern. "Are you well?" she asked.
"Overwhelmed," Emma replied with a polite smile. "Everything is so grand and everyone has been so kind," she said, mentally reprimanding herself for forgetting the performance.
"I gather you are used to a very different life at Montrellis," Analissa said with a small hint of derision.
"Different, yes," Emma said honestly, forcing a smile.
"A lovely place, Montrellis," the dowager countess said. Analissa looked surprised at her mother, but it faded as quickly as Oliver's look of regret. "I think I'd quite like to retire to a place like it in my old years. Simple and quiet in the country. Idyllic."
"You've always said how much you love Demmroch," Analissa said.
"I do," the dowager replied. "But even the king takes country vacations on occasion. Why shouldn't I?"
"It certainly has its perks," Lord Whicke agreed genially. "As a boy we spent summers near Harrish Lake. I have many dear memories of those summers."
"I know Harrish Lake," Emma brightened.
"You do?" Lord Whicke leaned forward eagerly at the shared experience.
"Yes, my aunt used to live near there some time ago," she said. "I was only there once when I was very young, but I remember a little, mostly the beautiful lake!"
"What is your aunt's family name?" he asked curiously. "Maybe I know of them."
"Killian," Emma replied. "I'm afraid it's been many years, however," she said.
"I played with a Benedict Killian as a boy!" Lord Whicke exclaimed. "Any relation?"
"I'm not sure, my uncle's name was Jonathon," Emma relayed, "But when I write to my aunt, I will ask her if she knows of a Benedict."
"A small world," Lord Whicke grinned. "Imagine the odds of such a connection!" He turned to his mother-in-law. "Perhaps Harrish Lake would fulfill your retirement desires, ma'am," he suggested.
"Perhaps," the dowager nodded to him in acknowledgement, but didn't say any more.
"I would love to take our own children there someday," Lord Whicke said to his wife. Analissa looked at him doubtfully.
"And have them fall in the lake and drown?" she scorned. "I'd say not!"
"I would teach them to swim, of course," her husband replied logically. "I loved swimming as a boy!"
"My aunt taught me to swim in the stream near Montrellis," Emma said. Analissa gaped at her, obviously appalled by the idea. "She said her husband taught her in the shallows of Harrish Lake," she added.
"A fine skill to have in my opinion!" Lord Whicke proclaimed. "Much more useful than memorizing sonnets or speaking foreign tongues," he said, his look indicating he was teasing his wife.
"I must admit," Emma remarked, "I was never very good at memorization—"
"Ah! See?" Lord Whicke exclaimed. "She agrees!"
"But I did learn French and Italian with considerable success," Emma continued. "I enjoyed taunting my younger cousin Lily with it, pretending to tell secrets in front of her so she couldn't understand me." The dowager and Lord Whicke both chuckled appreciatively, Analissa only smiled politely.
"Ana speaks marvelous French," the dowager said. "Ollie, however, was never good with foreign languages."
"But can he swim?" Lord Whicke joked.
Emma giggled to herself, thinking of the secret he shared with her by the stream. Well, she thought, if he said it was a secret, she wouldn't tell it. It didn't matter how much he hated her, she refused to break her promise.
18.
Despite the friendliness of Lord Whicke, the evening seemed to drag on much longer than Emma would've liked. She excused herself from entertainment in the parlor with claims of a headache and retreated back to her bedroom, still holding hope of visiting the stables with Trina. If the girl agreed. She hoped the idea of seeing Mickal would be enough to convince her.
As Emma hoped, Trina was waiting in her bedroom when she returned after dinner.
"How did it go?" Trina asked her.
"As scary as I imagined," Emma groaned, tugging at the fastening of her bodice then slipping out of the skirt as well, leaving both in the middle of the room and she made for the closet, looking for a plain cotton dress. Trina followed, her hands full with the plum gown.
"Not a nightgown, ma'am?" Trina asked in confusion. Emma gave her a conspiratorial look.
"I was rather hoping you would go down to the stables with me," she said. Trina was shocked, shaking her head before hearing Emma out. "You could see Mickal," she wheedled. "And I would see Yvette. Oh, please, Trina, go with me! I could use a little bit of normalcy."
"I don't know," Trina hesitated. "It's not really proper..."
"I'm not a normal countess, Trina," Emma reminded, then gave her a pleading look. "Please? Mickal will love to see you, I'm sure!"
"I told you, he doesn't see me that way," Trina blushed.
"Maybe he would, if you snuck out to see him?" Emma prodded. "If you don't come with me, I'll only sneak out on my own later and cause all sorts of trouble!" she insisted.
"Well, I suppose..."
"Oh! Thank you, Trina!" Emma cried happily. She pulled her green cotton dress quickly over her head and shoved her feet into her boots, then grabbed Trina by the hand and pulled her out of the bedroom.
"Best go this way, ma'am," Trina protested, gesturing the other way. "If you don't want to be seen." Emma smiled as Trina led her to the servant stairwell and down through the kitchen just like at Montrellis. Some things, it seemed, didn't change.
Both of them giggling like children, they hurried around the main hall and across the courtyard. Trina waved for her to follow her to one of the towers instead of the gate, and they flew up a twisting flight of stairs, waving cheekily to the guard at the top, who only stared after them as they darted out onto the walkway on top of the wall, passing several more guards. Trina and Emma waved at them with smiles, and none of them stopped them.
"Through here," Trina said, tugging Emma into the keep past a few bewildered men-at-arms and down a flight of steps on the other side of the wall, bringing them into the outer bailey.
"I'm impressed!" Emma praised. "How did you know to do that?" she asked. "To go that way?"
Trina blushed. "My sister, Lina, used to sneak across to meet someone all the time. One night I followed her to find out who it was."
"And did you?" Emma asked, highly amused. "Find out who she was seeing?"
Trina nodded. "It was a scandalous affair with a litter of puppies!" Trina giggled. "Mother wouldn't let her keep them, so she stashed them away in the stables. Lina snuck out every evening to see them. That's how I met Mickal – he was helping Lina care for the puppies. He has a weakness for animals," Trina blushed.
"How sweet," Emma sighed. "I can't wait to meet him!"
The two of them arrived at the stables, which was considerably quieter than it had been earlier when they arrived. Quietly, they stepped inside and Emma started inspecting the stalls, trying to find Yvette.
"Can I help—" A man stepped around the corner, "Trina!" he exclaimed, his face brightening. "What are you doing here?" he glanced at Emma curiously. "Your grace?"
"I came to see my horse," Emma explained. "Are you Mickal?" she asked, shooting a wicked grin at Trina, who lingered behind her, hesitant and blushing a deep shade of red.
"I am," he nodded.
"Trina's said wonderful things about you," Emma grinned, tugging the girl closer. "Haven't you?"
"I...I only mentioned your love of animals," Trina said modestly.
"I'm just going to go find Yvette," Emma said. "I'll leave you two to...chat," she chuckled.
"Which horse is yours, your grace?" Mickal asked.
"The gray mare," she answered. "Have you seen her?" Mickal nodded, pointing down the row. Emma scurried off as eager to give Mickal and Trina a chance to talk as she was to see Yvette.
She longed to bury her face in the horse's soft mane. The horse whinnied at seeing her, nuzzling her nose against Emma's shoulder. She slipped into the stall, stroking her hand along the mare's back and leaning against her strong neck.
"Oh, Yvette," she sighed softly. "We're both so far from home. We don't belong here," she whispered.
"Your grace!" Emma heard Mickal and Trina both cry at the same time. "An unexpected pleasure," Mickal said. Emma blanched. What was the earl doing at the stables?
"Good evening," the earl replied blandly. "I take it my wife is about?" he asked.
"Yes, your grace," Trina answered. "She wanted to see –"
"That's alright, Trina," the earl said. "I'm aware of my wife's tendency to break protocols. Which way is she?" he asked. One of them must have pointed, because Emma heard his crunching footsteps getting closer. "It's rather rude to leave one's guests for the company of a horse," he commented.
Emma was surprised he was talking to her at all, and it took a few moments to gather her wits and find her tongue.
"I wanted to see a friendly face," she replied honestly. "One that didn't glower or give false smiles."
"My sister can be a bit duplicitous," he commented. "But you seemed to get along with Whicke just fine."
Emma glanced at him curiously. Had he been watching her all throughout dinner? "We found we had something in common," she replied. The earl arched his eyebrows in silent question. "Harrish Lake," she told him. "He may even have played with a relation of my aunt's late husband when he was a boy."
"A small world," the earl murmured.
"That's what he said," Emma laughed. "How did you know to find me here?" she asked suddenly.
"I guessed," he answered with a smirk that was meant to be stern.
"Did you want something?" she asked. He frowned. "You sought me out," she pointed out. "I just assumed—"
"We need to talk," he said seriously. She waited expectantly. "Not here," he scowled.
"I'm not done greeting Yvette," she said, stroking the mare's mane a few times. Yvette nudged the earl's chest, and he reached into his jacket and fed the horse a carrot.
"Don't stop on my account," he replied. "I thought we'd go for a ride."
"It's getting dark," she pointed out warily.
"I thought you would prefer it," he retorted. "But if you'd rather not..." He started to turn away with a casual shrug and Emma reached out and pulled him back by his jacket.
"I want to," she told him. "I'd love to. I just wasn't expecting you to..." she hesitated. She wasn't expecting him to speak to her, let alone offer a night ride to talk. "Want to," she finished.
"I wasn't either," he admitted. "But I've been properly chastised by my mother and was ordered to speak with you at once. Those were her specific words. Speak with her at once," he mimicked.
Emma laughed at his poor imitation. "Well, if your mother ordered it, there's no getting out of it."
"I'll have Mickal saddle the horses—"
"Don't bother them," Emma hissed, tugging him back again. "I can saddle my own horse. Let them be."
The earl glanced toward Trina and Mickal again and smirked, prompting Emma to poke her head out of the stall to see, finding her maid giggling flirtatiously as Mickal watched her with adoring eyes.
"I didn't know they were together," the earl commented.
"They aren't," Emma said. "Or weren't, I guess," she laughed as Mickal leaned closer to Trina, a breath away from kissing Trina.
"How do you do that?" the earl asked with a smirk.
"Do what?" she asked.
"Befriend people so easily," he replied. "There was the maid at the inn, and now Trina and Mickal."
"And yet a simple conversation over dinner is incredibly difficult for me," Emma shrugged. "It's easy to make friends with honest people," she observed. "It's the dishonest ones that are trying." He didn't comment, but eyed her suspiciously. "Where is the tack room?" she asked. "Or we could ride bareback," she offered.
"The tack room is this way," he scowled.
19.
"Demmroch village is that way," the earl noted, pointing in another direction. "You'll visit there soon, but I want to show you something else."
Emma wiggled excitedly at the little adventure her husband was taking her on. It was fun tramping about Montrellis at night when she knew where she was going and where to avoid, but it was even more so being at Demmroch, where everything was new with an thrilling edge of danger.
The half-moon shed a little light on them as they rode, enough to see the dashing figure of her husband on his horse several feet away but not much farther. He still wore his red jacket from dinner, but it was unbuttoned, giving him a more casual air.
He was at ease at Demmroch, confident in everything he did. He gave the order to lower the drawbridge without doubt or explanation, and his men obeyed in the same manner. No one asked why the earl and his wife were venturing outside the castle walls at night. It was almost as fun walking out the main gate as it was to sneak out the back.
There would likely be bawdy rumors floating around the castle in the morning, but Emma didn't care. Her husband was talking to her again, and the loneliness that had been crushing her before eased just a little.
"You have a secret place as well?" she teased. There would be time to discuss the events at the inn a little later; for now she craved normal conversation, one without pretense or formalities.
"Sort of," he replied. The leather groaned when he shifted in the saddle. "It's not a secret, exactly, but it is one of my favorite places. It's just a little farther." He paused. "You were marvelous at dinner."
Emma couldn't stop the loud guffaw that escaped her lips. She felt anything but marvelous. Awkward. Out of place. Definitely not marvelous.
"I mean it," he persisted. "You handled yourself well. My mother agrees."
"She does?"
"I told you she likes you," he replied.
"Because I'm unorthodox," she remembered. "Is that what she told you tonight?" she asked.
"She used different words," he admitted. "But she did mention you were kind and honest and didn't let Ana intimidate you too much."
"I'm not generally a very deceitful person," she commented, thinking of the lies Lord Farley told him.
"Mother said the same," he responded. "She said I should give you a chance to be honest with me, even if I didn't like what you had to say."
"She's a wise woman," Emma said. "I like her a lot. I can't imagine ever taking her place as mistress of this place, though!" She gestured behind her to the castle.
"I think she would tell you not to try," he replied. "To be yourself instead of trying to be someone you are not. She told me the same when I first claimed my title."
"Were you close with your father?" she asked curiously. He seemed to be with his mother, which was completely different from her relationship with her own parents.
"My father was a good man," he said carefully. "But he had a lot of secrets, kept his feelings to himself most of the time. Not exactly a loving, caring figure. I was thirteen when he died. I felt more lost than anything. If it wasn't for my uncle, I don't know what I'd have done. Botched everything up, probably."
Emma suddenly wasn't sure about revealing his uncle's role in what had happened at the inn. Would he believe her if she did? He obviously trusted his uncle and put a lot of faith in the man. The word of a woman he'd just met – even if she was his wife – was hardly enough evidence to get him to believe her story over Farley's lies. But could she let it keep her from speaking the truth?
