“I would enjoy that.”
Josephine only sniffed with disapproval. Emma tried to eat, but despite Nuala’s attempts at cheerful conversation, she could feel her mother-in-law’s invisible anger.
“Would you like to come with us to the gardens, Lady Dunmeath?” Emma asked the dowager.
“I have enough to do,” she answered. “As you will soon learn when you begin to take up your duties.”
There was no denying the slight prickle in the dowager’s voice. Emma tried again. “Perhaps later you can show me. I would like that very much.”
“I imagine you would.” The woman’s tone suggested she believed Emma was nothing more than a fortune hunter.
Her cheeks burned, and she tried again. “I would also like to become better acquainted with you, Lady Dunmeath.”
The dowager said nothing, which only heightened the awkwardness between them. Emma was torn between disappointment and embarrassment.
“Oh, do give the girl a chance to settle in, Josephine,” Nuala chided. To Emma, she added, “Don’t be minding my sister. Always in a bad mood, is Josie,” Nuala chided.
“If you’d lost your husband and oldest son, you’d be in a mood, too,” Josephine said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have duties to attend.”
After she’d gone, Nuala said softly, “But Ididlose my husband, too.” Her voice held a note of sadness that made Emma sympathize.
“Was it the same illness as Lord Dunmeath?”
“I don’t know what it was,” she answered. “His heart, I suppose. One morning, I thought he was asleep. But by nightfall, he was simply gone.”
“I’m sorry.” Emma picked at the food on her plate, but Nuala reached out to pat her hand.
“It was two years ago. And though I miss him every day, at least I had twenty good years with Orlan.”
The warmth in her voice made it sound like a love match. “I’m glad.”
Emma reached for her teacup and realized no one had filled it. She set it down, but Nuala said, “Oh, let me pour you a cup of tea. It’s my own special blend. Chamomile, mint, and a bit of this and that.”
She tasted the tea and found it pleasant. “Thank you.” For a little while, they both sat and ate, and eventually Emma asked, “Did I do something to offend Lady Dunmeath? She seems so angry with me.”
“You married her son,” Nuala answered.
But Emma sensed it was more than that. There was resentment there, true, but it seemed as if Lady Dunmeath considered her to be a threat to her son. Perhaps they could talk alone later, and she could ease the dowager’s suspicions.
They finished eating, and Nuala led her along the hallway to another doorway that opened up into the gardens. Outside, the sunlight gleamed, and the matron guided her to a gravel pathway. “I usually come into my garden every morning after breakfast,” Nuala said. “You are always welcome to join me.”
Emma thanked her, and she shielded her eyes against the sun as she followed. The hedges were cut into what appeared to be a maze, and the woman took her deeper into the garden where there were splashes of color from the roses.
“Josephine gave me this plot of land for my garden,” Nuala explained. “It gives me a way of occupying my time.”
“It’s lovely,” Emma said, admiring the neat rows of green and the deep fragrance of roses. She walked around the garden, keeping on the pathway to guide her. “What are your favorite plants to grow?”
“Oh, everything,” the matron answered. “Sometimes I grow herbs for my tea. Cook often uses basil or mint from the garden.” She reached out and used a pair of gardening shears to cut a rose. “Here. It’s a welcome gift for you.”
“Thank you. I can’t say as I’ve felt very welcome until now,” Emma admitted as she took the deep red rose. No, the dowager didn’t want her here. But more than that, she didn’t know how to begin making a place for herself—especially when Cormac seemed unwilling to help.
“You’re the countess now,” Nuala said quietly. “Josie has no choice but to accept you.”
But that wasn’t true at all—especially if the dowager learned that Emma couldn’t read. It would only make matters worse.
Emma breathed in the scent of the rose and asked, “Is there anything I can do to gain her approval?”
“It’s unlikely,” Nuala said. “My sister has always been difficult. And even more so after Cormac became sick. She doesn’t want to lose another son.” Her voice softened, and she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I hope, for your sake—” Her words broke off when footsteps approached on the gravel path.
