17

Jeremy woke early, and after kissing Emmeline’s bare shoulder, he made his way stealthily back to his own rooms via the connecting door. Here, he wrapped himself in his dressing robe and rang the bell for his wash and shave.

It was only after Simons, his valet, started hunting around for his evening clothes that he realized he must have left them in a heap on his wife’s bedroom floor. So much for conjugal discretion. “One moment,” he told Simons and slipped back through the door to collect them.

Emmeline was still sleeping soundly, and he could not resist dropping another kiss on her delightfully rounded shoulder. He was half regretful for having left her so early, but it was his habit when in the country to rise at seven and then spend his morning at the stables. As it was, Masterson, his stable manager, would have looked for him in vain the previous day.

Simons took the proffered clothing with his eyes tactfully averted, and Jeremy dressed in riding clothes before heading out of the house. It was overcast at present, and if he was not mistaken, there would be rain later in the day. He headed down toward the racing stables at a brisk pace, for it was a good twenty-minute walk to reach the block where he kept his racehorses.

As he walked, Jeremy’s mind dwelled pleasurably on the previous day. There was much to be happy about and not just the highly satisfactory ending to it. For one, there was the easy camaraderie she had already established with his son.

She had fitted in so well, seamlessly in fact, into their game of soldiers in the nursery. She had been charming with Teddy all day, chattering away with him in a natural and easy fashion. That side of things was already progressing far better than he could have hoped, even in his wildest dreams.

Emmeline might not think she made the greatest impression on Mina and Nye, but he was sure they thought her a vast improvement on his first wife. Amanda had wanted to cut the connection with his siblings altogether. Not that he had ever allowed it, but all the same, before Mina had come along, his relationship with his brother had been rocky, almost nonexistent at times.

Nye was both stubborn and proud, and moreover he had not needed Jeremy. Most likely he had resented his golden brother who had always lived in luxury at Vance Park while he carved out a living in a busy inn and among the boxing rings of Exeter.

Mina had been the key to cracking that particular nut, and though Jeremy might regret how he had gone about it, for his treatment of her at the time had been undeniably poor, luckily his sister had forgiven him, and things had worked out for the best. Now, even Nye had thawed enough to visit Vance and accept his hospitality.

All was going swimmingly. The only fly in the ointment had been Emmeline’s request the previous morning that they never again mention the night of the Hawfords’ ball. That had stung. Of course, even for him, the memory was bittersweet. Still, he would have thought that moment in the conservatory between them was worth preserving. It hurt somehow that she did not agree.

Overall, though, she had forgiven him a great deal, so he knew he did not have the grounds to resent her request. She had married him, despite his past behavior and he was extremely grateful for that fact. She wanted to look to the future, that was what she had said before and she was right. It was only, he did rather treasure their shared history and it felt confining somehow to know he could never allude to it again.

To give her her due, he had not been through the same repercussions she had. After that fateful season, he had not gone into a social and financial decline as it appeared Emmeline had. His steps slowed as he suddenly wondered if she had suffered more rather more reverberations from that night than he had ever realized.

Was it possible that someone had seen their clinch in the conservatory? Someone other than that fool chaperone woman, Smith or whatever her name was. Could it be that she had told Emmeline’s father about their embrace, and then Emmeline had been forced to shoulder sole blame for it? Had her punishment been the abrupt end of her only season?

Before now, he had teased Emmeline by saying she had let him “practically ruin her” but had those teasing words struck uncomfortably close to the truth? He turned cold at the thought. Had he in fact truly ruined her prospects? Had that been the reason she had ended up withdrawing from fashionable society and become engaged to that idiot Stockton?

He racked his brains to try to think if he had ever seen her after that fateful night. It had all been such a miserable blur. He had not wanted to see her when he knew he no longer had the smallest hope of approaching her. Instead, he had used his engagement as an excuse to stop attending all those gatherings altogether. Why would he attend now, when there was nothing to be gained from them?

Amanda and her mama had been furious that he had not wanted to be paraded about like a caught fish, but he had been selfish enough not to care. She had the diamond on her finger, and he would say the vows in church. Other than the odd morning promenade, a few rides in the park, and a family ball at the Tiptons’ townhouse, he could not remember much else from that period in his life.

The wedding had been next, a rainy day in June, then had been the honeymoon in Italy. What a wretched business that had been. It did not bear thinking about. No, he was pretty sure that the last time he had seen Emmeline, until that fateful morning in Bath, had been the Hawfords’ ball. An event he had now promised never to mention again.

It seemed they were not to clear the air or even get things straight about what had happened between them during that strange period of his life when Jeremy had genuinely fallen in love for the first and only time. Of course, he had not realized that was what had happened, not until later. Not until Italy, in fact, when he had wandered into Saint Peter’s Basilica and felt an almost crushing sense of loss.

That night he had got disgustingly drunk and said rather a few things to his new bride that should have been left unspoken. Ah well, Amanda had come right back at him with a few unpalatable truths of her own. They had more than likely deserved one another by that point.

“Milord!” It was Masterman, hailing him and dragging him from his thoughts. “You’re just in time. We’re about to start exercising them now in the long paddock.”

Jeremy spent a productive morning at the stables, catching up on the progress of his current prospects. At midday he headed back up to the house to wash and brush up for luncheon. Colfax and Higgins were carrying a large box between them into the blue salon.

“If that’s books,” Jeremy said, one foot on the bottom step of the staircase, “carry them straight through to the library.”

“This one’s cake, milord,” Higgins said, looking around.

“Cake?” Jeremy repeated blankly, glancing at the large box.

“Wedding cake, milord.”

“Ah. Really?” He somehow had not realized it would follow them home.

“There were several packing cases of books, milord,” Colfax added as they paused in the doorway. “We haven’t brought them through yet. Also, a load of dresses have arrived from that fancy modiste in Bath.”

Jeremy’s expression brightened. “Excellent. Everything seems to have turned up at once.”

“Yes, including those two wagonfuls of furniture from Winkworth Street.”

Jeremy’s face fell. “Oh, that. Is there some kind of outhouse we could store it in?” he asked. “Until she decides where she’s going to put it.”

Colfax cleared his throat. “Miss Pinson did mention that Lady Faris intends to make a present of some of it to her. For her cottage.”

“Ah, capital idea!” Jeremy approved. “Can we have it directed straight there? Anything that does not fit can always come back here for storage.”

Colfax gave a small bow and he and Higgins shuffled off with the huge box of cake. Jeremy ran up the stairs, washed and changed and descended again, wondering where he would find everyone for lunch.

After glancing in a couple of likely rooms, he found his wife, Miss Pinson, and Teddy sat in the blue salon, surrounded by piles of small white boxes decorated with silver writing and ribbon. He made straight for Emmeline, kissing her cheek and asking, “What is all this?”

“Cake,” she answered promptly. “Only look at these cunning little boxes. They cut up our wedding cake and sectioned it into perfect squares to be mailed out to well-wishers. Isn’t it clever?”

He felt instantly relieved the monstrous fruit cake was already portioned and packaged up. “Just how many pieces are there?” he asked with some misgiving.

She consulted an invoice that lay in her lap. “Three hundred and fifty.”

“Good lord.”

“Three hundred and forty-nine,” Teddy corrected her through a mouthful of plum cake.

“We are about to have lunch, Teddy,” Jeremy reproved him.

“Pinky is helping me to compile a list of people to receive cake,” Emmeline said bravely, “but we only have eight people so far.”

“Let’s hear it,” Jeremy said, dropping down onto the sofa opposite them.

“Mr. Thomas Hardiman and Mrs. Hardiman, you may remember, he was my father’s most senior clerk. I have their home address for they always send me a card at Christmas.” Jeremy nodded. “Then we thought, perhaps we would send Florrie, our landlady’s maid from Winkworth Street, a piece. Miss Florence Pye.”

“That makes three,” Jeremy said, ticking them off on his fingers.

“None for the neighbors upstairs though,” Teddy said darkly. “The soap stealers.”

“Soap stealers?” Jeremy repeated.

“He means the Startrites,” Emmie said hastily. “And no, we certainly shall not send any to that rascally family.”

“And then there is my particular friend Miss West,” Miss Pinson interjected. “Emmie was kind enough to say she would send her some cake as she sent a very pretty tray cloth which she had embroidered for you both as a wedding present.”

“Most generous of her,” Jeremy agreed. “I think she should have two pieces.”

“Oh, really?” Miss Pinson perked up at once. “Oh, she would be most grateful, my lord, for then she could give the second piece to her old mother, who would be thrilled. She’s an invalid, you see, and does not have much excitement in her life.”

Emmie amended her list. “Two pieces for Miss West,” she murmured.

“And I wanted to send a piece to Arbuthnot,” Teddy said. “His parents did not bring him to the wedding, so he missed out. I think he should have cake and they should get none, for being so mean.”

“Oh, I quite agree,” Jeremy concurred at once.

“Would that not look rather particular?” Emmie asked with a frown. “Besides…” She cleared her throat.

Jeremy caught on at once. “Oh, you think it would annoy Mrs. Arbuthnot more if she received a piece of our commemorative cake? You are probably right. Besides, Arbuthnot seemed an agreeable fellow. Put them down for three slices,” he decided generously.

“What about your godfather?” Emmeline asked Teddy. “Lord Atherton.”

“Oh, Lord Atherton, yes,” Pinky agreed. “He must certainly have cake. Such an agreeable gentleman.”

“That one’s a little tricky,” Jeremy said. “Atherton currently has no fixed abode. Instead, he is an eternal houseguest, bouncing from one host to another. As he has fallen out of favor with his uncle, I am not sure at which address we would find him. Perhaps we should save his piece for when he visits with us this summer.”

Emmeline scribbled a note. “Your sister, Mina, and—and your brother, William Nye,” she said, moving down the list.

“And Baby James,” Teddy reminded her.

“He cannot eat cake yet,” Jeremy cut in, “but we must certainly send some to Edna, Corin, and Herney, their staff at the inn. And, er—” He turned to Teddy. “What is the name of their new ostler?”

“Bert,” Teddy supplied promptly. “He takes snuff and has brown stains on his handkerchief.” Miss Pinson suppressed a shudder.

“They must certainly all receive cake. Now, how many is that?”

“Fourteen,” said Emmeline, totting them up.

“A perfect start,” said Jeremy.

“Perfect?” Emmeline looked doubtful.

“Well, once we have added all our servants and tenants to the list and a few others besides, I am sure we will have our quota.”

“Great Aunt Louisa?” Teddy suggested. “She is your godmother, Papa.”

“Yes,” Jeremy agreed. “She will certainly expect cake. Write down Lord and Lady Wickford,” Jeremy directed Emmeline. “The address is Grosvenor Square, London.”

“What about Grandpapa and Grandmama Tipton?”

Jeremy coughed. “That might seem a little tactless, my son.”

“Oh. And Mama—my other mama, I mean,” he said hastily, “did not send us any cake when she married that French man, did she, Papa?”

“He’s Italian,” Jeremy corrected him absently. Emmeline and Miss Pinson both turned to look at him in surprise. “He’s Italian but lives in France,” he explained.

“He lives in a den. Like a fox,” said Teddy, adding to their confusion.

Jeremy frowned. “He lives in Paris,” he said firmly. “And runs a rather exclusive establishment that caters to wealthy gamesters.”

Looks of comprehension dawned on Emmeline’s and Miss Pinson’s faces. “I did not realize that Lady Amanda had remarried,” Emmeline said quickly. “That must be an exciting life she now leads.”

“Yes, and she always did enjoy an extravagant wager,” Jeremy agreed.

Teddy turned to Emmie. “Can I keep this box, Mama?” he asked. “It’s a useful sort of size. I might make it into a bed for Carruthers. It would fit into the turret room of my fort, just about.”

“Of course. How is Carruthers today? I hope his leg is not paining him too much.”

“It’s still missing,” Teddy answered sadly.

Miss Pinson looked startled. “Poor man! Is it a wooden one? My friends the Oxtons had a neighbor with a wooden leg. He suffered an injury from a piece of factory machinery and lost the limb from the knee down.”

Predictably, Teddy immediately wanted to know all about the wooden leg. Miss Pinson reeled off some pertinent facts and then Teddy excitedly gave his own theory that the Oxtons’ neighbor was in fact a pirate fleeing from justice.

Miss Pinson made feeble protests about Mr. Instow being of “the utmost respectability” but Teddy would not be swayed in his conviction. Neither would he believe that Mr. Instow’s leg had been mangled by machinery. Instead, he was sure it had been bitten off by a sea monster during a raging storm.

Emmeline cleared her throat and left them to their discussion as she returned to her list. Jeremy helpfully threw her a few more names her way, Reverend Ryland and his wife at the vicarage, their two sons whose names he still could not recall, Squire Pebmarsh, and his two daughters at the Grange, the Needhams at Benham Hall, and the Tavistocks at Vance House.

“In fact,” he concluded, “the sending of cake will no doubt initiate visits from them all. You will soon be inundated, Ballentine. I predict the vicar’s wife will be first to call.”

At this point lunch, a cold collation of savory pies, salads, and cold meats, was brought into the room and all talk of cake, neighbors and pirates abruptly ceased for at least half an hour.

No sooner had the remains of lunch been cleared away than Teddy informed Miss Pinson he was taking her to the dining room to show her the painting of his ancestress who had run away to sea.

“I hate to disappoint you, Teddy,” Jeremy cut in smoothly, “but Miss Pinson must see it another day, for she has important business of her own to attend this afternoon.” He explained about the arrival of their furniture from Bath. Miss Pinson was instantly out of her chair, all excitement. “You may take Colfax with you again and one of the grooms. You will need at least two men to unload the wagon.”

Miss Pinson thanked him profusely as Emmeline sat looking unsure of herself. Jeremy turned to her. “Would you like to see the wagon first,” he offered, “to decide what is to stay and what is to go to…” He glanced back around to her friend.

“Plumtree Cottage,” Miss Pinson supplied happily.

“Plumtree Cottage,” Jeremy repeated.

“Oh no.” Emmeline shook her head. “Hannah is to have whatever she wants. The only thing I would like to keep for myself is—”

“The small papier-maché tea table that was your mother’s,” Pinky finished for her, beaming.

Emmeline returned her smile. “Precisely.”

“Well, in that case, Higgins can accompany Miss Pinson out to the wagon and fetch that particular item back,” Jeremy decided, pulling the bell cord to summon the footmen.

“Can I come with you, please, Pinky?” Teddy butted in, plucking at Miss Pinson’s sleeve. “I should like to see Plumtree Cottage, and I don’t believe I have ever been inside that one.”

Jeremy opened his mouth to reprove his son, but Miss Pinson had already replied in the affirmative, seemingly unaware of Teddy’s appropriation of her sobriquet. “If that is alright with his lordship,” she added anxiously, noticing his expression. “I would not dream of depriving him of—”

“That is quite alright, Miss Pinson. As long as you are sure he will not be in the way,” Jeremy assured her swiftly, suspecting Colfax would be less than enthusiastic about Teddy’s being underfoot during the fetching and carrying.

“And, would it be—I mean, could I possibly take a piece of wedding cake for myself?” Miss Pinson asked rather shyly, twisting her hands together.

“Of course, Miss Pinson,” Jeremy assured her, reaching for the top box on the nearest pile and passing it to her. “You may have as many pieces as you like.”

“Oh, just the one will suffice. Thank you so much,” she said, clasping it to her chest. Once Colfax appeared, she and Teddy trailed away in his wake, hand in hand, chattering brightly about bedsteads and footstools and whether they thought the walnut cabinet would fit in the front parlor.

Jeremy turned to Emmeline, who was gazing after them rather wistfully. “Your friend must be very fond of cake,” he commented, for he had seen Miss Pinson eat at least two pieces at lunch. “I really don’t know where she puts it all. A puff of wind would knock her over.”

“Oh, it won’t be for eating,” Emmeline answered absently. “Pinky isn’t fond of fruit cake.” At his quizzical look she explained. “She always puts wedding cake under her pillow.”

He tipped his head, wondering if he had misheard her. “Under her pillow?” he echoed.

“Yes. It’s meant to, well, induce dreams of your future husband,” she explained, looking a little embarrassed. “Have you never heard of that tradition?”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “No, I had not.”

“Oh, well…” She made a dismissive gesture with her hands. “It’s silly, really.”

Suddenly, he wanted to ask if she had ever indulged in such a superstitious tradition but felt strangely hesitant to question her about anything from her past. He felt he needed to tread carefully there. The last thing he wanted to do was suffer a setback with her. “Did I tell you, your trousseau has finally arrived?” he asked instead.

“Oh, has it?” She stood up. “I shall have to go up and look at unpacking it.” She gave him a brave smile. “At least I shall now have nice outfits to receive the vicar’s wife,” she joked.

“Is that how you want to spend your afternoon?” he asked.

“Well, first I shall have to speak to Mrs. Cheviot about distributing all this cake,” she said with a quick glance around the cluttered room.

“ Or ,” he suggested, “we could both instruct Mrs. Cheviot as to the cake, you could send Lottie to unpack your new gowns, and I could bring the curricle around to meet you out front for a tour of the grounds.”

Her expression brightened at once. “That would be lovely,” she agreed. “Yes, let us do that.”

Impulsively, he stepped forward and kissed her, and not her hand either, which would have been the correct thing to do. Emmeline looked so surprised, he did it again and was still kissing her when Mrs. Cheviot appeared in answer to her summons and what was more, he was not remotely abashed about it.