Emma leaned forward in her seat and lowered her voice. “Have you asked Mother for help yet?”
“No, and I have no intention to.”
“Why not?” Emma asked. “She knows practically everyone in Society, and she could help narrow down your search.”
He shuddered. “That sounds awful.”
Emma laughed. “It would be good for you to spend time with her.”
His mother walked purposefully into the room. “Who does Charles want to spend time with?”
“With you, Mother,” Emma said, making a face at him.
Charles shook his head at his sister’s antics. “Did you know that Emma is competing today?” he asked, hoping to shift the conversation away from him.
“I did not,” his mother replied, bringing her gaze towards Emma. “Is this true?”
“It is,” Emma said. “Would you care to join me?”
Their mother smiled. “I would be delighted to.”
Emma reached for her cup and gulped down the rest of the chocolate. “We shall depart within the hour,” she informed her, rising. “If you need me, I will be on the east lawn, practicing.”
As Emma hurried out, their mother shook her head. “I worry about Emma.”
“Why is that?” Roswell asked.
“She spends all of her time practicing her archery or riding her horse through Hyde Park,” their mother said.
“There are worse ways to occupy one’s time,” Charles remarked.
Their mother walked over to the buffet table and picked up a plate, setting a piece of toast on it. “Perhaps, but I would rather have her settled down and have a family of her own.”
“That will come,” Roswell said. “These things cannot be forced.”
Their mother walked over to the table and sat down. “When I was her age, I already had two children.”
“It was a different time,” Charles remarked.
“That it was,” she agreed.
Charles had just returned to eating his food when Lord Brixton stepped into the dining room, his hands outstretched. “I need your help,” his friend announced.
“Whatever is the matter?” Charles asked, abruptly rising.
Brixton stopped at the end of the table. “I want to visit a particular young woman, but I don’t dare call on her alone.”
Charles sat back down in his chair, attempting to keep the irritation out of his voice. “I am confident that you can handle this task on your own.”
Brixton turned his attention towards his mother and bowed. “Good morning, Lady Bideford.”
His mother smiled politely. “Good morning, Walter,” she replied. “How are your parents faring?”
“They are the epitome of health,” Brixton said. “They inquired about your health, as well.”
“That was most kind of them. Please inform them that I am well,” his mother replied.
“Duly noted.” Brixton tipped his head at Roswell. “I had a most enjoyable time last night at the ball.”
