“I am not usually such a ninny.” Lacing her fingers in her lap, Tessa said in a low voice, “I just haven’t felt like myself lately. What with the queasiness and losing Swift Nick…”
Emma squeezed Tessa’s shoulder, knowing how much the other grieved for her beloved pet ferret who’d passed away a few months ago.
“And I’ve never spent the holiday away from Grandpapa and Mama, but they didn’t want to travel to Scotland,” Tessa said miserably. “Botheration, I am acting like a wet blanket, aren’t I? I am sorry to ruin the party spirit.”
“You haven’t ruined anything. In point of fact, I think this is a good thing,” Emma said brightly. “We are redding ourselves as well as the house. Might as well get things off our chest before the new year.”
“In that case…” Bea bit her lip. “There is something I would like to say. To you, Emma: thank you for putting my brother on your guest list. Hadleigh is not…well, he’s not welcome in some circles, and it was generous of you to include him.”
With a stab of empathy, Emma saw the pain that tautened Bea’s features, pulling on the thin scar that curved over her right cheek. Bea’s younger brother, the Duke of Hadleigh, and his duchess were quite scandalous and consideredpersonae non grataeby some sticklers. More than once, Bea had confided in Emma that she was concerned about her brother’s drinking and wild behaviors.
Bea had also expressed regret over the years of estrangement between her and Hadleigh, which had been caused by Hadleigh’s ruthless pursuit of vengeance against the man who’d caused Bea’s scar. Hadleigh’s actions had led to tragic consequences, and while he’d tried to make amends, the relationship between the siblings remained distant at best.
Emma, who had five siblings of her own, understood the value of family. Bea clearly cared about her brother, even if she didn’t put it in so many words. Emma saw Bea’s conflict, the push and pull between love and forgiveness, and wanted to help however she could.
“Family is family,” Emma said softly. “He is welcome here.”
Bea gave a grateful nod.
“While we are at it,” Marianne spoke up, “I shall add my own concerns: Ambrose works too hard.”
Emma had no doubt that her sister-in-law was correct. Ambrose, her half-brother and the oldest of the Kent clan, was one of the most industrious people she knew. He’d been that way all his life. At fourteen, Emma had lost her mama (Ambrose’s stepmama), and their papa had fallen into a deep grief that had cost him his position as the village schoolmaster. Ambrose had stepped in, supporting the entire family on his policeman’s wages, while Emma had managed the house. Those days back in Chudleigh Crest had been a difficult yet bonding time for their middling class family.
Years later, after Ambrose had married Marianne, a wealthy widow, he could have stopped working. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d founded his own private enquiry business, becoming one of London’s most respected investigators. Indeed, there had been a time when Emma’s greatest wish had been to work with him at Kent and Associates. She’d persuaded Ambrose to let her join his team…and had met Alaric during her first case.
Nowadays, as a wife, duchess, and mama to two rambunctious children and an infant, she was struggling to find time for sleuthing. Yet the need to be productive burned brightly in her; she well understood Ambrose’s work ethic. It ran in the Kent blood.
“Have you tried telling him to work less?” Tessa suggested.
“It is rather like telling a racehorse to slow down,” Marianne said wryly. “It is not in his nature. And the truth is, I don’t want to dissuade him from pursuing his passion. But I do worry. Investigative work is not without risks…and Ambrose isn’t as young as he once was.”
“My brother is fit for a man of three-and-fifty,” Emma offered. “He doesn’t seem his age at all.”
“I don’t disagree that Ambrose has the stamina of a younger man.” Marianne’s lips curved faintly. “When it comes down to it, I just wish we could have more time together. It is selfish of me, I know.”
“I would not call it selfish to want to spend time with one’s husband,” Bea said. “I would call it being in love.”
There was a misty edge to Marianne’s smile. “After twenty-one years of marriage, I can honestly say that I fall more in love with Ambrose each day.”
“That is...so…romantic.” Tessa was crying once more.
“There, there, Tessa.” Marianne exchanged amused glances with Emma and Bea; it wasn’t often that the bold and fearless Duchess of Covent Garden was reduced to such a state. “You are married to a Kent as well. You will feel the same way when you reach my advanced years.”
“Advanced, my foot. You don’t look a day over thirty.” Sniffling, Tessa peered hopefully at her older sister-in-law. “Do you promise I’ll feel that way?”
“I promise. In point of fact, I will make you a deal. I will speak to Ambrose if you speak to Harry when he arrives.” Marianne took out a handkerchief and wiped away Tessa’s tears. “Agreed?”
Tessa’s dark curls bobbed as she nodded.
“Everything’s settled then.” Relieved, Emma rose and headed toward the hearth, where a bucket and broom were waiting. “There’s still more cleaning to do. I have to rake out the ashes—”
“Not so fast.” Marianne raised her brows. “What about you?”
Emma’s heart gave an uncomfortable stutter. “What about me?”
“We are all airing our laundry,” Marianne said. “Don’t you want to take the opportunity to do so as well? To start the new year off on the right foot?”
Emma knitted her brows. “I would, but I don’t have anything to share.”
