Quick, Amanda by Scandal

this afternoon's arrangements?"
    Duckett's eyes softened. "Not at all, Miss Faringdon. I assure you that in the course of her previous
    employment, Mrs. Hickinbotham had a great deal of experience serving tea to guests."
    Emily was immediately embarrassed to have called the housekeeper's qualifications into question. "Yes,
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    of course. I expect I am just the tiniest bit anxious. We do so little entertaining here at St. Clair Hall. And
    we have never had an earl to tea before."
    "I believe Mrs. Hickinbotham once mentioned she had supervised preparations for tea for a marquess a
    few years back."
    "Wonderful." Emily felt humbled and relieved. "Thank you, Duckett."
    "You are most welcome, Miss Faringdon. I assure you all will go quite smoothly this afternoon."
    "I am certain you are right. Just one more thing. Will you ask Mrs. Hickinbotham to see if we have any of
    the Lap Seng tea left? If so, I would like her to serve it rather than the Congou blend."
    "The Lap Seng? I will inquire."
    "Thank you. It is for the earl, you see. For some reason he has named his horse Lap Seng, so I assume
    he has a strong preference for that particular type of Souchong tea."
    "His horse?" Duckett looked slightly startled but recovered himself instantly. "I see. I will speak to Mrs.
    Hickinbotham at once, Miss Faringdon." The butler let himself quietly out of the library.
    Emily watched the door close, thinking that one of these days she must remember to ask Simon just why
    he had named the chestnut stallion Lap Seng. There were so many things to ask him, she thought, so
    many fascinating topics waiting to be discussed. It was going to be quite wonderful being married to a
    man with whom she could share an intellectual connection, one with whom she could communicate on a
    higher, transcendental plane, a man of refined sensibilities.
    Of course, their communication on the more mundane physical plane was going to be quite exciting, also.
    Emily felt herself growing quite warm, even though there was no fire on the hearth.
    She stared dreamily out the window for a moment. Never in her life had she experienced anything quite
    like that shattering sense of release she had experienced last night here in the library. It had given her a
    whole new insight into certain poetical passages written by her favorite authors.
    It had also given her a whole new understanding of the phrase an excess of passion.
    A small tingle of pure, unadulterated happiness went through her like a jolt from one of the electricity
    machines people used for scientific experiments. The whole thing was incredible. It was almost too much
    to comprehend.
    She was not accustomed to good luck in anything except financial matters.
    "Bloody hell," Emily whispered aloud. Then she promptly scowled. She really must stop cursing in such
    an unladylike fashion. She would be a countess soon and she was quite certain countesses did not curse.
    She hoped Simon's high and noble standards would not oblige him to insist on a long engagement.
    Year-long engagements were not unusual among the ton. There were generally a great many details to be
    resolved, the sort of details that all came under the vague heading of "settlements." Emily did not think she
    could bear to wait a year.
    Reluctantly Emily turned her attention back to the letters, journals, and notes piled high on her desk. The
    last thing she felt like doing this morning was work on her investments. But at the rate the Faringdon men
    went through money, constant attention to finances was essential. Her mother had often explained to
    Emily that someone had to look after Papa and the twins. Indeed, Mrs. Faringdon had impressed that
    notion on Emily one last time from her deathbed.
    Unenthusiastically Emily pulled the latest issue of The Gentleman's Magazine toward her and opened it to
    the monthly summary of stock exchange prices. She scanned the daily fluctuation in