Page 9 of A Symphony for the Earl

“Do you really live on an island? Richard said Ireland is called the Emerald Isle. Is Ireland full of emeralds? I wish I could go to Ireland. If I stay in London much longer, I’ll be dicked in the nob…it’s so boring here.”

“Really Richard, don’t you think her riding lessons are becoming too much? She sounds just like Jerome.” Her mother unfurled a delicate lace fan, waving it vigorously.

“My indomitable tiger is like water to Octavia’s sponge, Mother. I shall tell Jerome and the grooms to forego the slang. Octavia, when you go to the stables, you must put cotton in your ears.”

“That’s silly, Richard. How can I hear Jerome teach me when I ride Rainbow?”

Her brother smiled, his eyes creasing with amusement, and Fiona noticed they were the same unusual shade of blue-gray as his younger sister’s eyes, set under slightly winged brows.

“Now it is time to wind down, Octavia, so we might converse with our guest,” he suggested. “Unless of course, you wish to retire upstairs.”

Octavia plopped down on the sofa next to her mother.

Lady Merrick sighed. “Do sit, Miss Rafferty, and tell us a bit about yourself.”

“Only if you forgive my unexpected arrival,” Fiona implored. “I have caused such a disturbance that I am sure you are thoroughly exasperated with me.”

“Nonsense, my dear.” She settled back against the padded cushions. “Was your journey very exhausting?”

“Yes, but I am so pleased to meet everyone.”

The spacious drawing room was superbly appointed, and a massive portrait of the family above the fireplace caught her eye. An attractive man with the earl’s coloring stood center, flanked by a very young Valentina and her much older brother. Lady Merrick, incandescently beautiful in her youth and obviously with child, sat gazing adoringly at her husband.

Lady Amelia followed Fiona’s gaze. “That is my late husband, the eighth Earl of Seldon. Unfortunately, he passed not long after this painting was finished.”

“What a lovely family portrait. You and Miss Merrick share a remarkable resemblance, Lady Merrick.”

“Lady Amelia will do, my dear. Using my title makes me feel ancient.”

“Welcome, Fiona. I hope I may address you by your first name; it will be such fun to have someone with whom to share the Season,” Valentina offered shyly.

Fiona sank into the plush cushions alongside her. “Oh, absolutely call me Fiona…and I shall need the guidance of a friend, by all means. Valentina, Octavia…do I sense a pattern here?”

“Mama adores all things Roman, you see.”

“I am extremely fortunate not to be named Tiberius,” the earl said, and his mother slapped him smartly on the arm with her fan.

“Richard, do sit down and join us. You make me quite agitated standing there and looming over everyone.”

Octavia giggled. “He doesn’t loom…he lurks! Richard has eyes and ears everywhere.”

The earl took the armchair across from them. “Thank you, Octavia, for enlightening our guest. I am sure Miss Rafferty will be relieved at my diligence.”

“You must be weary from your travels, Fiona. We understand perfectly if you wish to rest,” Valentina said. “One of the chambermaids should have your room ready shortly. Can we offer you some tea, perhaps? Our cook, Mrs. Talbot, makes the most delicious cinnamon cakes.”

“Perfect, Valentina,” Lady Amelia agreed. “Will you ring for some refreshments?”

“Some refreshments would be lovely.” Fiona rallied at the thought of a hot beverage.

“I’m anxious to share all the entertainment London offers.” Valentina walked to a velvet rope by the door. “Tomorrow night there is a poetry reading and on Wednesdays we go to Almack’s. There is always something to do, you will find.”

Soon a housemaid entered with the tea tray and set it on the low table in front of the sofa.

“I will pour, thank you,” Valentina told her. The girl curtsied and slipped out.

“How do you take your tea, Fiona?”

“Just milk, please.” She took the porcelain cup of steaming liquid and sipped gingerly.