LITMIR.BIZ

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to say the nicest things. And here is little Linette,’ he said, turning to his sister and pulling her to her feet. ‘Who I vow is even more beautiful than when I left.’

      ‘Don’t be silly, Ridley, you’ve only been gone a few months,’ Linette said, blushing.

      ‘Nevertheless, there does seem to be an additional bloom on the rose and I suspect that has much to do with the fact you are soon to marry the venerable Mr Peter Taylor,’ Ridley said. ‘Well done, Linny. If all goes well, you might just end up a countess.’

      ‘Highly unlikely,’ Emma drawled, ‘given that there is an older brother in line for the title.’

      ‘Ah, yes. Alexander the Great.’

      Emma blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘Alexander Taylor. Lord Stewart,’ Ridley explained, flopping down in his favourite chair. ‘The lads call him Alexander the Great because he’s a cracking good rider and a dashed hand with a whip. I won’t mind having him as a brother-in-law, I can tell you.’

      ‘You must be hungry, Ridley,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Shall I ask Cook to prepare something?’

      ‘You may indeed. I did stop for a bit of overdone beef on the way, but I wouldn’t mind a slice of Mrs Dunstan’s excellent apple pie if there is any to be had.’

      ‘I’m sure that can be arranged. Ring for Jenks, would you, Emma?’

      ‘So, when are the nuptials to take place?’ Ridley enquired, fondling Rory’s silky head.

      Linette blushed. ‘We haven’t set a date yet.’

      ‘What? I thought you would have been anxious to reel him in.’

      ‘Really, Ridley!’ Aunt Dorothy exclaimed. ‘The man is hardly a fish to be landed.’

      ‘Of course not. He’s already been hooked and I am very proud of my little sister for having done so. Imagine Linette snapping up the youngest son of an earl. It certainly trumps anything you or I have been able to pull off, Em. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?’ He grinned. ‘Turned any gentleman up sweet yet?’

      ‘If I had, I’d know better than to tell you,’ Emma said, returning to her chair. ‘You would likely tease the poor man to death.’

      ‘Naturally. What are brothers for?’

      ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t quite worked that out.’

      ‘All right, stop bickering, you two,’ Mr Darling said. ‘Ridley, how are you going on with your studies? Finding the intricacies of the law to your liking?’

      For the first time, Ridley looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to write to you about that, Father.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘There’s something I have to tell you. And I don’t want you getting upset because I have given this a great deal of thought.’

      Her father’s eyes narrowed. ‘Given what a great deal of thought?’

      ‘My decision to become a solicitor. Or rather, my decision … not to become one.’

      His father dropped his book. ‘Not become a solicitor. Why the devil not?’

      ‘Because I’m really not cut out for it.’

      ‘Indeed! Then what, pray tell, are you cut out for?’

      ‘Painting,’ Ridley announced decisively.

      Aunt Dorothy frowned. ‘Painting?’

      ‘Yes. As in portraits.’

      ‘Of what?’ his father demanded.

      ‘Of society’s most beautiful and aristocratic families.’ Ridley stood up and affected an elegant bow. ‘Of grand lords and titled ladies, of cherubic daughters and stalwart sons. And of their noble dogs and horses, of course,’ he said, leaning down to scratch Ranger behind the ear.

      There was a moment of stunned silence before Linette said, ‘Goodness, Ridley, whatever possessed you to do such a thing?’

      ‘Indeed! Giving up law to dabble in paints and brushes?’ his father said stiffly. ‘I thought you had more sense.’

      ‘Sense I have in limited supply, but talent I possess in abundance,’ Ridley quipped. ‘I’ve already completed five commissions and have five more waiting. And they pay me very well.’

      ‘Then he must be good, Percy,’ Aunt Dorothy commented. ‘The aristocracy are very particular about who they engage to paint their portraits.’

      ‘Exactly!’ Ridley agreed. ‘They are very particular and I am very good. More to the point, those for whom I’ve done work have passed my name along to others and I actually have more work than I can handle.’

      ‘And I suppose you expect me to clap you on the back and say, well done, sir, well done!’ his father demanded.

      ‘That would be nice.’

      ‘Well, I shall not! Being a barrister is a respectable occupation. One that would stand you in good stead for the rest of your days. The same cannot be said for artists.’

      ‘Of course not, because we are all licentious reprobates who drink too much and have naked women lying around our studios,’ Ridley muttered. ‘God knows, I’ll probably be dead by the time I’m thirty.’

      ‘Really, Ridley, such language in front of your sisters!’ Aunt Dorothy chastised.

      ‘Indeed, and in front of your aunt,’ his father added. ‘I am not pleased, Ridley. Not at all pleased.’

      ‘But why should you be upset? It’s not as though I’m drinking myself into oblivion, or trying to cadge money from you. I make a very good living.’

      ‘But it is not the occupation of a gentleman!’

      ‘And I have never aspired to be a gentleman,’ Ridley said in exasperation. ‘I want to paint. I’ve always wanted to paint. It is the only thing I’m good at and likely the only thing I ever will be.’

      The conversation was mercifully interrupted by the arrival of Jenks.

      ‘Ah, Jenks,’ Emma said quickly. ‘Would you be so good as to bring some fresh tea and either a slice of cake or a piece of pie for my brother?’

      ‘Don’t bother.’ Ridley abruptly got up and headed for the door. ‘I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going up to my room.’

      ‘We’ll talk about this in the morning, Ridley,’ Mr Darling called after him. ‘Don’t think we won’t!’

      Emma exchanged an anxious glance with her sister, then nodded at the servant who was still standing patiently in the doorway. ‘Thank you, Jenks, it seems we won’t be needing anything after all.’

      ‘Very good, miss.’

      After he left, the room settled into an uneasy silence. Linette picked up a book, Emma reached for a magazine and Aunt Dorothy went back to her tambour, muttering something about mismatched threads and too-tight knots.

      ‘Oh well, that’s just splendid!’ Mr Darling finally burst out. ‘My youngest daughter about to marry into an earl’s family and my only son announces he’s given up law to paint pictures.’

      ‘Portraits, Father,’ Emma corrected tactfully. ‘And it is not such a disreputable occupation. Mr Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds were both highly respected for their work.’

      ‘Ridley is not Gainsborough,’ Mr Darling drawled.

      ‘You don’t know that. You haven’t seen any samples of his work.’

      ‘And I have no desire to. Knowing Ridley, I can just imagine

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