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Well, perhaps he should have consulted her first about this visit!
“My lady. Your ladyship,” Graeme said to Sara.
When they walked away, Emma stole to the side of the hall with Sara.
“Faye,” Sara said, “you will check on his men and speak with Cook about the meal.”
Faye didn’t move.
“Faye?”
The woman’s eyes darted across the room, settling on the doorway through which the earl and the chief had just disappeared. “Cook already knows.”
“Good,” Sara said. Emma was sure she didn’t want to involve the servants in her disagreement with Geoffrey. Their disagreement with Geoffrey.
“Thank you, Faye. That will be all. Oh”—Sara stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm—“have you heard from Hugh?”
Faye had married Emma’s uncle Hugh not long after Geoffrey and Sara became husband and wife. Emma was glad for them and knew Faye was anxious for Hugh to return from Elmhurst Manor. But Hugh’s help fortifying Elmhurst was much needed.
“Aye, my lady. He says ’twill be a fortnight, at least, until he returns.”
“Thank you for your understanding,” Emma said. “I know you must miss him, but Lettie and Simon are very grateful for his assistance.”
“At least I don’t have him tellin’ me what to do. A fine man, but a mite stubborn, if I do say so myself. Beggin’ your pardon,” Faye said with a fond grin.
Emma laughed. “All Waryn men are quite so. Please, no apologies for saying it aloud.” She turned to Sara. “Speaking of Waryn men . . .”
Faye bobbed a curtsy and moved on, for she was as wise as she was patient.
“I thought you didn’t tell him?”
“What could he be thinking?”
They spoke at once, but Sara answered first. “I did not. But your brother is smart, and my guess is that he knows about you and Garrick.”
“’Tis possible. Garrick did ask to speak with me privately the day we left Clave.”
“And Geoffrey allowed it?”
Emma nodded. “So perhaps he—”
“Oh dear. Emma, you need to speak with him.”
“About Garrick? Sara, you know him. He will—”
“Be understanding, I’m sure.”
They looked at each other, and Emma found herself laughing despite the dire situation.
“Oh, dear sister,” Emma said, using her best Geoffrey voice. “Why ever did you not tell me you’ve fallen in love with a man betrothed to another? What a fine match. Well done.”
“Shh . . .”
Emma had as much desire to tell Geoffrey about Garrick as she did to spend her days learning to embroider. But she had no choice. She couldn’t ask Sara to deceive him on her behalf, and neither could she put off a discussion of Graeme any longer.
“I will speak to him this evening,” Emma said.
Sara nodded. “I should be there—”
