Emmeline had come to adore the terrace, even on a fresh autumn day. Despite having to wear a shawl, she was happier to sit there than anywhere else, being so reminded of the wonderful day they had spent together all those weeks before. The day when they had talked about books, and she had, in truth, begun to fall in love with him. It seemed to her now like a special place, a place which would always hold such fond memories for her, whatever happened next.
“Goodness me, no,” Emmeline said and sat down at the small table opposite him. “I must admit to being only too glad to escape it for a while. My mother has been planning and plotting and scheming from the moment our engagement was announced. I hear now only of fabric and lace and flowers and how best to have the little church set out. Really, you have no idea how exhausting it is to have so excited a mother.” She smiled at him and was pleased when he threw his head back and laughed. “Forgive me, I hope you are not at all insulted. I do not mean to imply that I am not pleased about our upcoming wedding,” she added hurriedly.
“I am not insulted at all.” He continued to laugh. “As I can quite well imagine what you have suffered at home these last days.”
“And my sister is almost as excited as my mother.” Emmeline shrugged, and he laughed again.
“But perhaps the most surprising excitement of them all is that which belongs to my cousin Algernon.”
“Indeed!” Emmeline laughed loudly herself. “I do not think I have ever seen a man so involved in a wedding conversation. It always seems largely the province of the ladies, does it not?”
“Dear Algernon treads his own path in this life, Emmeline. And it is true to say that it matters not the opinions of others.”
“In truth, that is probably just as well.” Emmeline smiled broadly. “But I am bound to say that I am very grateful for his attention to my mother and sister. And to me also, if I am honest. I always find your cousin so friendly and welcoming and almost always so amusing. He has a keen wit and a turn of phrase which always makes me smile.”
“Then you think as I do about my cousin, and I can only say that I am pleased for it. He is a regular visitor here, as I am at Braithwaite House, so it is a relief to me to find that you like him so well, for the two of you will often find yourself in company.”
“And I shall look forward to it.”
“Are you sure you are quite warm enough to sit out here?” Hunter raised his eyebrows in concerned question.
“I am perfectly warm enough in my shawl, Hunter. And I do so like it here on the terrace.”
“It is one of my favourite places. It is a place where I often read; in fact, much of what I read is read here when the weather will allow me.”
“I have a place of my own at Tarlton Manor, a little corner of the garden which is fenced off by box hedging. I have spent much time there since I was a little girl, to read and be alone with my thoughts, and nobody has ever really bothered me there,” she said but had a sudden awful memory of Kent Fitzgerald.
“Then I am sorry for you that you are to lose that little corner, but perhaps you will find a little corner here at Addison that you can call your own. Or even share this place with me here on the terrace if you have a mind to.”
“I think I should be most content to sit here on this terrace and read and contemplate.”
“But not sew.” Hunter smiled, and she was strangely flattered that he had remembered. Flattered that he had paid such close attention when they had spoken of her own choice of diversions.
“No, I should never choose sewing over reading I am afraid.” Emmeline smiled and felt suddenly a little shy.
“Well, I am glad to hear it,” he said and rose to his feet. “If you would excuse me for just a moment.” Hunter turned and made his way back into the drawing room through the open French windows.
He returned in a heartbeat brandishing a parcel wrapped in very plain brown paper.
“I do hope you will forgive the wrapping. I ought to have chosen something a little less utilitarian, but I am afraid I am only used to purchasing books for myself.” He handed her the parcel.
“This is for me?” Emmeline said and smiled uncertainly.
“Yes, I had an idea the other day that I should like to buy you a gift. A small memento of our engagement. I am afraid that my timing is far from superior, and I ought really to have given it to you on the day. I hope you do not mind.”
“Of course I do not mind, Hunter,” Emmeline said and began to carefully unwrap the book. “I had not expected a gift at all, really I had not.”
Emmeline unwrapped the book and studied it. It was another volume by Sir Walter Scott, Rob Roy, a book that she had never thought to purchase for herself.
“Rob Roy? Good heavens, I really must thank you, Hunter.” The idea that Hunter had bought her a book that had far more adventure and far less romance was strangely flattering.
In fact, the idea that he had bought her such a book was encouraging in that she realized that she would never have her enquiring mind shut away by her husband when she was finally married. Indeed, he seemed now like the sort of man who would actively encourage her own taste, rather than expecting her to conform to the somewhat duller ideals of the day. And so it was that she found the giving of such an unromantic book a very romantic gesture indeed.
“I do hope you like it. In truth, I rather suspected that you might, given your previous reading. There is less romance than there is in Ivanhoe, but there is a little; just a little. But there is great adventure and travels to the North of England and Scotland in the middle of a Jacobite rebellion. But I shall not give too much away, I do not wish to spoil it for you.” As he smiled at her, he looked a little pensive, and she wondered if he was concerned to have her approval on the gift.
And from his words, it was obvious to her that he had put a good deal of thought into the matter, buying her something that would be more in keeping with her personality than anything else he could have bought for her. Once again, she felt her love for him swell ever greater.
“I cannot tell you how excited I am to read it. I must admit to adoring Ivanhoe and its adventures, and if this looks set to be even more adventurous, then I think I shall like it even better. Thank you, Hunter, really.” She smiled at him, staring into his dark, golden flecked eyes for several moments.
He smiled back at her, his teeth neat and white against the darkness of his neatly trimmed black beard and tanned skin. His eyes held hers with equal intensity, and Emmeline felt as if she were falling through the air, weightless and breathless, wondering what would happen next.
The spell was suddenly broken by the sound of laughter drifting up from the lake, and they both looked to see Algernon Rochester gesticulating wildly as he seemed to be describing yet another ludicrous scheme for celebrating the upcoming wedding.
Chapter 24