At his words, Emma sank into a most elegant curtsy, one whose easy refinement he could not say he had been expecting.
“Your ladyship,” Emma said once she had straightened. “What a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. And may I say how kind you are to lend me your countenance for the duration of my stay here in his lordship’s home. You are most forbearing to move across Town on my behalf.”
“Eh? What’s this about Town?” his aunt said, her brows drawing up into a furrow. “Alas yes, I am still in Town, even if much of Society is away, tucked up warm and cozy at their country estates. You are lucky I was here to receive your missive, Dominic, or whatever would you have done with this little gel?”
Before he had a chance to reply, Aunt Felicity fixed her gaze on Emma. “No doubt you are the young guest of whom my nevvie told me,” she repeated as if she had not heard a word Nick had spoken. “Well, come here, girl, so I can see you properly.”
Fiddling for a moment at her waist, the old woman set a lorgnette in front of her face and squinted, the lenses making her eyes appear as big and round as an owl’s.
Emma’s expression remained amazingly impassive beneath such close scrutiny. Maintaining her poise, she walked slowly forward to stand quietly before his aunt’s inspection.
“Pretty,” the dowager viscountess pronounced after nearly a minute’s silence. “But then, I doubt Dominic would invite a whey-faced chit to stay in his house.”
“Aunt Felicity—” Nick protested.
“Oh, don’t poker up,” the dowager viscountess said in a dismissive tone. “Men are all alike, always susceptible to a comely face and a winsome form. Unless there’s money involved, that is. Then the poor girl can be homely as a pig in a wallow and no one will say a word against her.”
Nick cleared his throat, trying not to laugh at either his aunt’s outrageous remarks or the expression on Emma’s face.
Utterly unabashed, the dowager viscountess lowered her lorgnette to her lap. “So, you’re the orphaned daughter of one of Nick’s officer friends, are you? Hired out as a governess, I hear? Well, I can see why you are no longer employed. Too pretty by half, as I’ve already said, and much, much too young. How old are you exactly?”
Emma drew herself up and returned his aunt’s gaze with an unflinching one of her own. “Old enough.”
The dowager viscountess stared for a long, silent moment. “Old enough! Is that what she said? Old enough?”
“Yes, Aunt Felicity,” Nick offered, hiding a smile as he waited to see his aunt’s reaction. “That is precisely what she said.”
Rather than take offense, however, the old lady let out a hearty guffaw, chuckling so hard her shawls slipped down her shoulders. “Well, I must say I like a gel with spunk.” She waggled a finger at Emma. “Reminds me of myself in my green days. I used to give ’em a devil of a time.”
“You still do, Aunt.”
The dowager viscountess beamed. “So I do. Now,” she said, rearranging her shawls, “when is dinner? I didn’t come all the way across Town to be starved to death.”
“I am sure Symms will be announcing the meal shortly,” Nick told her. “In the meantime, why do we not have those drinks?” He turned back to the sideboard. “Miss White, what may I serve you? A glass of canary, perhaps? Or would you rather something stronger? My aunt is having sherry.”
Before Emma could speak, the countess interrupted again. “What are you two discussing? That Harry fellow again, whoever he may be? And what is this about canaries? For my own part, I cannot abide birds. Dirty creatures, leaving feathers and other unmentionable substances around the house.” She paused, reaching up to straighten her turban. “I do hope your cook serves fowl this evening, Dominic. Now that is a proper use for a bird.”
Nick met Emma’s gaze, her sea-bright eyes twinkling, her lips twitching with barely suppressed humor. “Madeira instead, then?” he suggested softly.
Emma burst out laughing.
Unable to contain himself, Nick joined in.
Nearly two hours later, Emma ate a last delectable bite of apple charlotte, the lush flavors of fruit and rum lingering pleasurably on her tongue. More than well satisfied, she laid her fork neatly across her china plate. A footman appeared quietly to clear it away.
To her right, Nick lounged comfortably in his chair, a glass of crisp golden Tokay cradled idly in one broad palm. The dowager viscountess sat at the opposite end of the table, nearest the fire, where she had held court for the entirety of the meal. For her part, Emma had been content to eat and listen, answering the occasional question directed her way. Nick had remained quiet as well, letting his aunt rattle away in apparent contentment, while he and Emma strove not to look at each other for fear of falling into another paroxysm of laughter over the dowager viscountess’s outrageous and frequently erroneous remarks.