disagree.”
Xander frowned. “In what way?”
She shrugged narrow shoulders, wearing another unbecoming gown, of dark brown this time. Although it did have the advantage of not clashing with the red of her hair. “You have stated you prefer your life in London, so you could quite easily have ignored your responsibility to this estate.”
His mouth twisted. “As I have ignored it these past fifteen years?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Is that how long it has been since you were last here?”
“Since my mother died, yes,” Whitney confirmed.
“Was this not your father’s principal residence?”
“Yes.”
Her brow cleared. “You were estranged from your father.” It was a statement, not a question.
Whitney gave a humorless laugh. “I would describe it as being more a mutual dislike.”
“Were things always that strained between the two of you?”
His frown showed his irritation with the question. “I do not believe discussing the past serves any purpose.”
Emily could respect that opinion. Lord knows she had no intention of discussing her past with Whitney.
It was interesting, though, how much their histories had in common, when on the surface of things, they were nothing alike.
Her adored mother had died young.
So had Whitney’s.
She had not been close to her father.
Whitney had distanced himself from his father.
The differences were, of course, she was a woman and poor, and Whitney was a man and obviously very wealthy.
Luckily, she was saved from making any reply by Clarke arriving to tell them dinner was ready to be served.
Xander waited until Clarke had seen them seated in the dining room, served their soup course, and departed with the empty tureen, before speaking again. “What have you done to my butler?” he prompted curiously.
Emily glanced up from drinking some of the soup. “Done to him…?”
Xander nodded. “He was positively fussing over you just now. Are you quite comfortable, Mrs. Marsden? Is the soup to your liking, Mrs. Marsden? ” he parroted.
A blush warmed her cheeks. “I believe he was merely being solicitous.”
“Exactly. I have been here four months now, and not once has he asked me if I am comfortable .”
She shook her head. “You are exaggerating.”
Xander was not prone to exaggeration. “I assure you I am not.”
Emily appeared puzzled. “Clarke has shown me nothing but kindness all day, brought both luncheon and afternoon tea to me in the study.”
Perhaps because Clarke believed Xander had been un kind to her the evening before. He had a feeling that might be part of the explanation for the elderly man’s uncharacteristic behavior. The other part no doubt being it was impossible not to like Emily.
She gave the appearance of being a sedate and capable widow, but Xander knew that was only a front, that beneath the façade was a vulnerable young woman. He had no doubt that Clarke had also recognized her vulnerability.
“I am glad.” He nodded.
“That Clarke likes me and not you?”
Xander chuckled. “I would not have put it in quite that way…but yes.” He nodded.
“Perhaps you are the one who shows prejudice toward him…?”
He bristled. “What the devil do you mean?”
“Clarke was your father’s butler?”
“Yes…”
She nodded. “And you did not get on with your father. Perhaps you are projecting that antagonism onto Clarke? Seeing dislike from him where there is only uncertainty as to what changes, or otherwise, you might make now that Whitney Park is yours to do with as you wish?”
Such as dismissing the whole lot of them, every one of the household servants, including Clarke. Which had been Xander’s original intention.
“Have you spoken to the household staff all together since your arrival here?” Emily prompted.
“Why would I do that?”
“So that you might offer them reassurances as to their future employment with you,” she explained patiently.
It was interesting that Emily should know to make such a
Xander frowned. “In what way?”
She shrugged narrow shoulders, wearing another unbecoming gown, of dark brown this time. Although it did have the advantage of not clashing with the red of her hair. “You have stated you prefer your life in London, so you could quite easily have ignored your responsibility to this estate.”
His mouth twisted. “As I have ignored it these past fifteen years?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Is that how long it has been since you were last here?”
“Since my mother died, yes,” Whitney confirmed.
“Was this not your father’s principal residence?”
“Yes.”
Her brow cleared. “You were estranged from your father.” It was a statement, not a question.
Whitney gave a humorless laugh. “I would describe it as being more a mutual dislike.”
“Were things always that strained between the two of you?”
His frown showed his irritation with the question. “I do not believe discussing the past serves any purpose.”
Emily could respect that opinion. Lord knows she had no intention of discussing her past with Whitney.
It was interesting, though, how much their histories had in common, when on the surface of things, they were nothing alike.
Her adored mother had died young.
So had Whitney’s.
She had not been close to her father.
Whitney had distanced himself from his father.
The differences were, of course, she was a woman and poor, and Whitney was a man and obviously very wealthy.
Luckily, she was saved from making any reply by Clarke arriving to tell them dinner was ready to be served.
Xander waited until Clarke had seen them seated in the dining room, served their soup course, and departed with the empty tureen, before speaking again. “What have you done to my butler?” he prompted curiously.
Emily glanced up from drinking some of the soup. “Done to him…?”
Xander nodded. “He was positively fussing over you just now. Are you quite comfortable, Mrs. Marsden? Is the soup to your liking, Mrs. Marsden? ” he parroted.
A blush warmed her cheeks. “I believe he was merely being solicitous.”
“Exactly. I have been here four months now, and not once has he asked me if I am comfortable .”
She shook her head. “You are exaggerating.”
Xander was not prone to exaggeration. “I assure you I am not.”
Emily appeared puzzled. “Clarke has shown me nothing but kindness all day, brought both luncheon and afternoon tea to me in the study.”
Perhaps because Clarke believed Xander had been un kind to her the evening before. He had a feeling that might be part of the explanation for the elderly man’s uncharacteristic behavior. The other part no doubt being it was impossible not to like Emily.
She gave the appearance of being a sedate and capable widow, but Xander knew that was only a front, that beneath the façade was a vulnerable young woman. He had no doubt that Clarke had also recognized her vulnerability.
“I am glad.” He nodded.
“That Clarke likes me and not you?”
Xander chuckled. “I would not have put it in quite that way…but yes.” He nodded.
“Perhaps you are the one who shows prejudice toward him…?”
He bristled. “What the devil do you mean?”
“Clarke was your father’s butler?”
“Yes…”
She nodded. “And you did not get on with your father. Perhaps you are projecting that antagonism onto Clarke? Seeing dislike from him where there is only uncertainty as to what changes, or otherwise, you might make now that Whitney Park is yours to do with as you wish?”
Such as dismissing the whole lot of them, every one of the household servants, including Clarke. Which had been Xander’s original intention.
“Have you spoken to the household staff all together since your arrival here?” Emily prompted.
“Why would I do that?”
“So that you might offer them reassurances as to their future employment with you,” she explained patiently.
It was interesting that Emily should know to make such a
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