“Were you educated at home?” Anette asked.
Emilia wiped the sides of her mouth with her napkin before replying, “I was fortunate enough to attend a boarding school near my village, but my mother encouraged me from a young age to be a voracious reader.”
“You must have had an impressive library then,” Lord Roswell mused.
Emilia smiled, finding his comment humorous. “No, we didn’t own any books. I would make do by borrowing one book at a time from one of my mother’s clients. Once I finished, I would return the book and select another one.”
Fredrick gave her a knowing look. “I would imagine that you are in heaven with Sir Charles’ library. He had many first editions in there.”
“I am well aware, and it is exactly like the library I used to dream of,” Emilia admitted. “I bet my mother is smiling down from heaven, knowing my dream came true.”
“You must learn to dream bigger,” Fredrick remarked.
Emilia was about to reply when she saw peacock feathers out the window. “Do you own a peacock?”
Fredrick groaned. “Freddy is the bane of our existence, but we don’t dare get rid of my sister’s pet. Although, I am tempted now that Octavia will be residing at her own residence.”
“Your sister has a pet peacock?” Emilia asked.
“It is true, and it is an ornery little thing,” Anette said. “But Freddy leaves me alone when I go into the gardens.”
Lord Roswell shook his head. “Yes, and I have seen nothing like it. Freddy will observe her with his black, beady eyes but then he will walk away. It is almost as if they have an understanding.”
Anette smirked. “He must know I carry a pistol in my reticule, and I am not afraid of using it.”
“Or it could be that Freddy does not like the sound of Mr. Fluffy’s incessant barking,” Lord Roswell mused.
“Mr. Fluffy does not bark any more than a normal puppy,” Anette defended. “He is just trying to figure things out.”
“I daresay Mr. Fluffy wasn’t the brightest one in the litter,” Lord Roswell said.
Anette frowned. “Just because Mr. Fluffy gets frightened easily doesn’t mean he isn’t intelligent.”
“He is afraid of boots,” Lord Roswell shared. “And do not get me started on when Mr. Fluffy sees slippers under the bed.”
Emilia found herself enjoying the soup and the conversation that was going on around her. She hadn’t grown up with any siblings and this is what she imagined it would be like.
Fredrick leaned closer to her and whispered, “Sometimes they get lost in their own conversation and they forget there are other people in the room.”
“I think it is sweet,” Emilia remarked.
“It is not. Sharing a townhouse with newlyweds is awful.” Fredrick shuddered to emphasize his point.
Lord Roswell’s voice interrupted their conversation as he addressed his brother. “Perhaps you should get yourself a wife.”
“No, thank you,” Fredrick asserted. “I need a wife like I need to be shot again.”
Emilia stared at him in disbelief. “You have been shot before?”
“That is a casualty of being in war, I’m afraid,” Fredrick replied. “The enemy has no qualms about trying to kill you.”
“How many times have you been shot?” Emilia asked.
Fredrick held up two fingers. “Twice, but one was merely a flesh wound. A sniper shot me but luckily his aim wasn’t very good.”
Emilia couldn’t explain why it bothered her that Fredrick had been shot, but it just did. The thought of him being hurt both terrified and saddened her.
“I have been shot at as well,” Lord Roswell admitted. “But I was smart enough not to get hit.”
