Lady Westbrook’s smile wavered, just faintly. “Quite so. You may sit.”
There were not enough chairs for everyone, so Maggie knelt neatly at the corner of a blanket, folding her hands in her lap and wishing the afternoon would pass as quickly as possible.
Despite the steepness of the hill they had climbed up, the other side of the hill had a gentle, even slope downwards, all the way to the bank of the lake. The water could be heard from here, lapping at the shore.
Flowers grew thickly on that side of the hill, and that was where Emma had gone, scampering between clumps of wildflowers.
Food was served on delicate china plates, and Maggie found herself tasked with pouring out the tea.
“It’s a pleasant enough view up here, I must confess,” Lord Farendale remarked, holding out his empty cup towards Maggie without looking at her. She clenched her jaw and poured him a cup, resisting the urge to pour too much.
“I’ll pour my own,” the duke said abruptly when she reached for his cup. “You’re here to mind Emma, not serve the table.”
The quiet that followed was broken by Emma’s return, her arms overflowing with flowers. She ran straight to Maggie and dropped them into her lap.
“I want to make a crown for Uncle,” she said firmly. “He’ll look splendid in one.”
Lady Westbrook’s eyes were on her again, sharp as pins. Maggie swallowed and forced a gentle smile.
“Why don’t you ask Lady Constance to help you?”
Emma frowned. “I want you to help me.”
“How about this—you leave me some flowers, and I’ll make one crown, while Lady Constance shows you how to make another. We’ll see whose is best, shall we?”
Emma sighed. “Very well.”
She scampered across the blanket and deposited herself with a thump between the duke and Lady Constance.
Lady Constance threw a quick, triumphant smile in Maggie’s direction.
She thinks she has won whatever battle she believes we’re engaged in,Maggie realised with a jolt of annoyance.She believes I am conceding to her.
She felt the duke’s eyes on her, too, almost like a weight. She avoided meeting his gaze. It seemed reckless, somehow.
Suddenly desperate to occupy herself with something, Maggie picked up some of the stray blooms and began winding them into a flower crown.
Conversation bloomed around her in a comfortable buzz as she worked, the crown taking shape. Every now and then, Emma’s voice would pitch above the others.
“Oh, no, you have broken the stem!”
Maggie glanced up in time to see Lady Constance try to twist a flower into place, only to have the head pop off and roll sadly across the picnic blanket. The woman’s face was reddened and annoyed, and her flower crown was barely a few inches long, twisted and half-dead already.
Emma was watching with a pouting lip, arms folded.
“You aren’t very good at this,” she observed bluntly.
Lady Constance glared at her. “I would be, if you’d stop pulling at me! You must let me concentrate.”
“My dear lady,” the duke said mildly, “I thought you meant toteachher.”
Lady Constance forced a brittle smile, but the moment his gaze shifted, she shot Emma a look so dark that Maggie flinched.
“I’ll fetch more flowers,” Emma muttered, climbing to her feet. “You’ve ruined all of these.”
Without waiting for a reply, Emma took off at a run towards the lake. The best flowers, Maggie noticed, grew close to the edge, and she hoped that Emma would have the sense not to stray too close.
Red-faced and clearly embarrassed, Lady Constance threw the ruined flowers aside.
