“We are in mourning,” Mattie reminded her, trying to keep her voice patient. She had lost count of how many times she had had to say this.
Emma sighed heavily. “Mourning is so boring,” she claimed. “Why can’t we mourn people by doing fun things?”
“We could go for a walk,” Mattie suggested.
“No, I do not want to soil my boots and have to clean them,” Emma said, inspecting her perfectly clean boots. “I will enjoy having a lady’s maid to do that tedious task for me.”
Mattie tried to hide her annoyance but was failing miserably. Emma seemed determined to ruin this quiet afternoon by her incessant complaining. “What if we ask Mrs. Watson to make us biscuits?”
Emma adjusted the sleeves on her black gown, her expression uninterested. “No, I need to fit into all the gowns that I will be commissioning when we arrive at Darlington Abbey.”
“For what purpose?” Mattie asked. “What is wrong with the dresses that you own?”
Her sister looked at her like she was a simpleton. “My dresses were acceptable before, but now that Father is a viscount, we must look the part.”
“Father is not one to waste money when your gowns are sufficient,” Mattie said. “Furthermore, you do not need a new wardrobe until you have a Season.”
“Which will be next year,” Emma stated confidently.
Mattie pressed her lips together, feeling her patience wear thin. Not this again. “No, I am debuting next Season,” she reminded her sister firmly.
Emma waved her hand dismissively. “No one will care about you debuting, but I will be the diamond of the first water.”
“You are remarkably humble,” Mattie muttered under her breath.
A sudden pounding came from the door and Mrs. Watson emerged from the kitchen to answer it. A moment later, she stepped into the drawing room with three bouquets of flowers set in ornate vases.
Emma jumped up and approached Mrs. Watson eagerly. “Who are the flowers from?” she asked.
“Lord Winston,” Mrs. Watson replied as she carefully placed the vases on the table. “He sent flowers to each of the ladies in the house.”
Emma spun in a circle, her face lighting up. “This is the first time a gentleman has sent me flowers,” she gushed. “This is all so exciting.”
Mattie stood up and went to admire the flowers. “They are exquisite. Was there no card?”
“I was not given one,” Mrs. Watson replied.
Another knock came at the door, and Mrs. Watson went to answer it. She returned to the drawing room and she was followed by Winston.
Winston’s eyes landed on Mattie, and there was something in his gaze—an apology, perhaps, or a plea forunderstanding.
Before she could address Winston, Emma approached him with a graceful curtsy. “Thank you for the most beautiful flowers, my lord,” she said. “How did you know that roses were my favorite flower?”
Winston shifted uncomfortably. “I was not aware of that fact, but I am pleased you are happy with the flowers.”
“I am very happy,” Emma said. “It almost makes up for you not coming last night. Almost.” She flashed him a coy smile.
Winston winced. “I do apologize for not coming last night as planned, but something came up.”
“Oh, is everything all right?” Emma asked.
Winston nodded. “It is.” He shifted his gaze towards Mattie. “Would you care to take a walk with me?”
Mattie was about to refuse him since she was still upset about his absence the night before. But it was his eyes that were causing her pause. They were trying to tell her a story, one that she could not quite decipher. She took a step forward, her curiosity and concern intertwining. “Yes, I would like that.”
Winston offered his arm and Mattie accepted it. He led her outside, and they started walking through the open fields that surrounded her cottage. The fresh air was a welcome change, and for a moment, they walked in silence.
He broke the silence, his voice tinged with regret. “I want to apologize for not joining your family for dinner last night. I should have sent word.”
