Fresh grief welled within her, and she purposely turned from the table and went to the still-steaming kettle for some tea.
“It just seemed criminal to toss it out like so much rubbish,” Weston said, his voice melancholy.
“Aye. And I was telling Weston about the mosaics I saw in Spain and Greece. They’re little more than broken tile pieced together, but damned if they weren’t the most beautiful things, pardon my language. I don’t see what it would hurt to give it a try.”
Jane paused while stirring her tea, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the table. Even broken, the pieces were still precious to her. “Do you know, that’s not a bad idea.” She’d seen a few mosaics, each telling a story with their swirling array of colored tiles. The tightness that had pinched her shoulders since the moment Lord Raleigh came down the grand staircase in his equally grand house lessened just the smallest amount. She claimed one of the chairs and inspected the porcelain covering the scarred table. After taking a calming sip of tea, she asked, “What have you come up with so far?”
Her brother lifted a shoulder. “Not much. We both thought a piece of furniture of some sort, but nothing special came to mind.”
“Furniture?” It was hard to imagine the random mess on the table coming together for anything so useful as that.
“Nothing too big or fancy. Just a small piece to memorialize it.” Emerson rubbed a hand back and forth over his chin as he considered the raw material before them. The raspy sound of his stubble made her smile—it had been five years since such a sound had been heard in her home. Soon, Weston would need to worry about shaving. The thought gave her pause. Who would teach him? Perhaps she should have their cousin give him lessons before he shipped out once more.
Sighing, Emerson leaned back in his chair. “I give up. The two of you think it over, and I’ll gather the materials we’ll need.” He cut his glance to Jane. “And I should’ve asked when you came in—how did it go at his lordship’s?”
She wrinkled her nose. That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “Dreadful. His family was rather nice, but he was as boorish as ever. As was I.”
Emerson’s green eyes twinkled in the candlelight as he chuckled. “I’d as soon believe a fish could walk than you’d be boorish, Janey.”
“It’s true. I lost my temper in the face of his discourtesy. I should have known I was too exhausted to endure such a meeting.” The sarcastic comment about her mother being proud of her had really been too much. It didn’t help that the earl had no way of knowing how recently Mama had passed away.
Emerson patted her shoulder with his bear paw hand. “Well, you’ve done your duty; now put the matter behind you. And I promise you, whatever words you failed to deliver were more than made up for with the biscuits. He’d have to be a dog-hearted barnacle not to taste your good intentions.”
The corners of Jane’s lips turned up in the closest thing to a smile she’d had all day. “A dog-hearted barnacle ? Where on earth does one come up with such an insult?” What would the earl say if he knew he’d been compared to a bottom-feeding sea creature?
He winked, an answering smile lifting his lips as he tipped back in the chair, balancing on the back legs. “The navy’s good for more than just defending our shores.”
Weston snorted, looking up. “I’ll say. Emerson was just telling me about—”
“Hold your tongue, lad,” Emerson cut in, sitting forward so fast the two front legs of his chair slammed on the floor. “Talk between men is not to sully the innocent ears of ladies.”
Her brother’s neck immediately turned red, and he ducked his head. “Sorry.”
Goodness—whatever they had been discussing, Jane was glad she didn’t know. Emerson got to his feet and gave Weston a hardy slap on the back. “No harm done. These are the sort of things learned in the
“It just seemed criminal to toss it out like so much rubbish,” Weston said, his voice melancholy.
“Aye. And I was telling Weston about the mosaics I saw in Spain and Greece. They’re little more than broken tile pieced together, but damned if they weren’t the most beautiful things, pardon my language. I don’t see what it would hurt to give it a try.”
Jane paused while stirring her tea, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the table. Even broken, the pieces were still precious to her. “Do you know, that’s not a bad idea.” She’d seen a few mosaics, each telling a story with their swirling array of colored tiles. The tightness that had pinched her shoulders since the moment Lord Raleigh came down the grand staircase in his equally grand house lessened just the smallest amount. She claimed one of the chairs and inspected the porcelain covering the scarred table. After taking a calming sip of tea, she asked, “What have you come up with so far?”
Her brother lifted a shoulder. “Not much. We both thought a piece of furniture of some sort, but nothing special came to mind.”
“Furniture?” It was hard to imagine the random mess on the table coming together for anything so useful as that.
“Nothing too big or fancy. Just a small piece to memorialize it.” Emerson rubbed a hand back and forth over his chin as he considered the raw material before them. The raspy sound of his stubble made her smile—it had been five years since such a sound had been heard in her home. Soon, Weston would need to worry about shaving. The thought gave her pause. Who would teach him? Perhaps she should have their cousin give him lessons before he shipped out once more.
Sighing, Emerson leaned back in his chair. “I give up. The two of you think it over, and I’ll gather the materials we’ll need.” He cut his glance to Jane. “And I should’ve asked when you came in—how did it go at his lordship’s?”
She wrinkled her nose. That was the last thing she wanted to talk about. “Dreadful. His family was rather nice, but he was as boorish as ever. As was I.”
Emerson’s green eyes twinkled in the candlelight as he chuckled. “I’d as soon believe a fish could walk than you’d be boorish, Janey.”
“It’s true. I lost my temper in the face of his discourtesy. I should have known I was too exhausted to endure such a meeting.” The sarcastic comment about her mother being proud of her had really been too much. It didn’t help that the earl had no way of knowing how recently Mama had passed away.
Emerson patted her shoulder with his bear paw hand. “Well, you’ve done your duty; now put the matter behind you. And I promise you, whatever words you failed to deliver were more than made up for with the biscuits. He’d have to be a dog-hearted barnacle not to taste your good intentions.”
The corners of Jane’s lips turned up in the closest thing to a smile she’d had all day. “A dog-hearted barnacle ? Where on earth does one come up with such an insult?” What would the earl say if he knew he’d been compared to a bottom-feeding sea creature?
He winked, an answering smile lifting his lips as he tipped back in the chair, balancing on the back legs. “The navy’s good for more than just defending our shores.”
Weston snorted, looking up. “I’ll say. Emerson was just telling me about—”
“Hold your tongue, lad,” Emerson cut in, sitting forward so fast the two front legs of his chair slammed on the floor. “Talk between men is not to sully the innocent ears of ladies.”
Her brother’s neck immediately turned red, and he ducked his head. “Sorry.”
Goodness—whatever they had been discussing, Jane was glad she didn’t know. Emerson got to his feet and gave Weston a hardy slap on the back. “No harm done. These are the sort of things learned in the
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