Never Land the First Fish

Epilogue, Part 2

The Baroness Rookscombe took Paris by storm. Not that she tried. Emily's aunt—who was her mother in all ways but for the truth that Emily had been born to her sister Kamala and not to Maausi herself—was just her dignified self. In her late fifties, she was still lovely: her skin near unlined, her hair still sleek ebony, her graceful carriage that of an empress, or a dancer.

Which she had been once, long ago, and in Paris, which prided itself on its appreciation of the arts and its wisdom about the eternal verities of love, her past enhanced her allure.

She had been the worshipped icon of London's demi-monde thirty years ago. And for love of her, Baron Rookscombe had abandoned his ancestral lands in Ireland and his place in London Society to set up a new life in Brazil with the wife he had chosen with his heart.

There he was, the gossips whispered, at her elbow, the man who had counted the world well lost for love.

Maausi ignored the whispers and the stares, she was here to meet the man her daughter of the heart had chosen to marry, and to attend the wedding if she decided that he would do.

Maddox was, he said, scared witless. He had met Emily's father back in New York, but that had been before he and Emily were intimate; before he realised how important the good opinion of her family was to his future happiness.

Since Emily had faced his family with similar emotions, she was rather of the view that turn about was fair play.

He was not in Paris when the Rookscombes arrived. Emily had come over with Gills and Julia, leaving Maddox to escort his mother. So it was late one morning a week after their arrival that he presented himself at the hôtel particulier that Gills had taken for the month, and had opened to the close family of the bride.

Julia, who was thoroughly enjoying her role as hostess, escorted him into the parlour where Emily sat with her parents. She leapt up to greet him, to be enfolded in his arms and thoroughly kissed. By the evidence, he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

Having greeted her, he then cupped her belly as well as he could through her petticoats. "Hello, little one. Are you being good for your Mama?"

Maausi spoke from behind Emily, her voice dry. "This, I take it, is Lord Maddox."

Emily did not have to look at her to know she was wearing what her children called the goddess face; a mask of serene calm behind which she hid whatever she thought or felt.

Maddox dropped one of Emily's hands while retaining the other, stepped around her, and bowed as low as if she were a monarch. "I have that honour, Lady Rookscombe." He bowed again. "Lord Rookscombe." He might have continued bobbing like an automaton to the whole family, but Maausi interrupted, her tone a mere enquiry of no more moment than a comment on the weather.

"The honour of getting my daughter with child, then sneaking away to Paris to marry her? Did your mother the countess refuse to come, Lord Maddox, or did you not, after all, ask her?"

"Mama and the rest of my family are at the hôtel my brother Chirbury has taken, my lady. Mama asks you if she might call on you this afternoon with my sisters."

A slight movement of one eyebrow, swiftly controlled, was an expression of Maausi's surprise. "I shall be at home." She stood, and the men of the family stood with her.

"Lord Maddox, you have met my husband, my daughter Sharada, and my son Benjamin. She indicated Alex, glowering from where he stood beside their mother. "My son Alex."

If Maddox was intimidated, he gave no sign of it, offering a quick grin to the Kilbrierrys he knew from New York and a nod to Alex. "Mr Kilbrierry."

"Maausi, you know perfectly well that Maddox and I are marrying in Paris at my insistence, because I wanted you with me, and I did not think you would wish to come to London."

Maausi acknowledged the point with a small inclination of the head.

"Go away, all of you, and let me become acquainted with the father of my grandchild," she ordered. She sank gracefully to sit upright in her chair, and waved to the one alongside her. "Lord Maddox."

Maausa kissed his wife's cheek, and murmured in her ear, just load enough for Emily to hear, "He loves her, and she loves him."

"I shall see for myself," Maausi insisted, but her face softened at his touch, as it always did. "Run along," she told Emily. "Your lover shall survive the encounter."

Not much reassured, Emily followed Julia and the rest of the family out of the small parlour. Gills was just approaching from the front hall. "They tell me Maddox has arrived?"

Julia took his hand and turned him around to troop after the rest. "Lady Rookscombe is putting him to the question, and we have been sent away. Shall we have tea in the salon? Emily, will your mother want refreshment sent in to her and Maddox?"

Emily had no idea. She just wished she could be in the room, whether to protect her beloved or to admire her mother's technique she was not certain.