22

The next morning the first of the designers arrived, a Mr. Penrose along with his team of three workmen, and that same afternoon, an architect called Mr. Wimble. Mrs. Cheviot discussed with Emmie the plans for putting them up. This consisted of providing guest rooms for Mr. Penrose and Mr. Wimble in the east wing and finding lodgings in various cottages on the grounds for their workmen.

Emmie assured their housekeeper that this all sounded highly suitable and agreed with her suggestion that formal dining should be reinstated to accommodate these new members of the household. She felt a little sad to lose the intimacy of their private dining room, but after all, one had to accommodate one’s houseguests, and it might be easier considering how things had taken a decidedly awkward turn of late between herself and her husband.

As a consequence, breakfast, luncheon, and dinner were now formal affairs and felt decidedly stuffy after their family supper and the picnic lunch on the beach. She fancied Pinky, who had been slowly opening up to Jeremy’s presence, shrank from two new gentlemen on the premises and retreated once more into her shell.

Teddy took a lively interest in Mr. Wimble, who was a shy and retiring young man, and ignored the somewhat pompous Mr. Penrose, who he had met before and was somewhat contemptuous of.

“He decorated Mama’s rooms before. My other mama, I mean,” Teddy elucidated. “He’s very fussy,” he added in a whisper. “But apparently, quite famous in London.”

Emmie had to admit she did not care much for Mr. Penrose herself, for the man clearly had a high opinion of his own taste, and she had not enjoyed the brief consultation they had shared thus far about the decoration of her rooms. Neither of the two sketches he had produced had appealed to her in the slightest.

As for Mr. Wimble, she was not entirely sure what the architect’s role was. When she asked him three nights later at dinner, he had paled, then flushed bright red and started stammering. Jeremy had interrupted at this point to explain he wanted to add a new annex to the folly.

“Oh, is it the amphitheater you always wanted as a child?” Emmie guessed.

Teddy’s ears had pricked up. “Really, Papa?” he asked excitedly. “Are we to have an amphitheater?”

Jeremy had looked a little embarrassed. “No,” he said heavily, shooting this down at once. “Decidedly not. I was thinking of adding a new ‘ruined’ section to the side of it, with fallen columns and skeletal arches, to appear as though the folly were once part of something far larger. We could have roses planted, climbing ones which would be trained to grow over the ‘ruins’ and form a pergola of sorts. Don’t you think that sounds picturesque?”

Emmie tried to imagine it but failed. It sounded more gothic than classical to her but what did she know? “I look forward to seeing the sketches,” she said encouragingly, and could not help but notice Mr. Wimble looked even more alarmed by the idea, casting a look of mute appeal at his employer.

When she mentioned his reaction to Jeremy later as they climbed the stairs together, he shrugged it off. “Wimble does not like to show anyone his sketches until he is entirely satisfied with them,” he explained.

They reached her rooms first and Emmie hesitated at the door, unsure if Jeremy would accompany her inside. He had not approached her quarters in the past three days, not since their falling out. She was not even sure if he had checked the door to find she had unlocked it.

Of course, that might not have anything to do with their row. It might be because she was on her monthly right now and he had no interest in spending evenings with her while that was the case. She placed her hand on the door handle, and he cleared his throat. She turned to him at once, eagerly.

“Would you mind if I join you this evening?” he asked with scrupulous politeness. “Only if it is agreeable to you, of course. I do not mean to intrude.”

“No, I would like you to,” she assured him with a smile. She felt hugely relieved all of a sudden. The past few days of distance had rather chilled her. She hesitated. “Is the bedroom convenient, or would you rather we went into my sitting room?”

She thought he looked a little aback. “I only ask,” she said in a hurry, “because I am not altogether sure when I am supposed to use it. I’ve barely spent any time in there thus far.”

“I would rather sit on your bed and watch you at your toilette,” he admitted frankly. “But if that would make you uncomfortable then, of course, I am happy to settle for whatever intimacy you will afford me.”

Emmie blinked. “I am happy for you to sit on my bed,” she said quickly, suddenly afraid he would retreat altogether. Now it was his turn to look relieved.

He smiled at her and made as though to follow her into her room, but she forestalled him with a hand on his arm. Jeremy halted at once. “Won’t you—won’t you go and put on your dressing robe, my lord?” she asked hesitantly. “Lottie will be waiting to ready me for bed. Once we have washed and undressed, then we can be at our leisure together and take our ease.”

He relaxed visibly. “You would like that?” he asked, looking hopeful.

“Yes, of course.”

“Then”—he paused—“will you wait for me to…to put on your face cream and brush your hair?” He spoke the words lightly but the way he avoided her eyes and colored faintly clued her in to the fact he was earnest in his request.

“Yes, of course, if you wish it,” she answered with surprise.

He nodded and looked down to where her hand still rested on his arm. Quickly, Emmie released him and hurried inside to greet Lottie, who had her washing things and her nightclothes ready. Half an hour later, a knock on the door announced Jeremy’s arrival.

He did not come via the connecting door between their rooms but used the door from the corridor. Emmie saw Lottie’s raised eyebrows and hoped it would not lead to too much speculation in the servants’ hall.

“I’ll leave you now, milady, if that’s everything?” Lottie asked.

“Yes, that is all. Good night, Lottie, thank you.”

Emmie lingered at her dressing table as Jeremy flopped down onto her bed, dressed in his gaudy black and gold robe. He was watching her in the mirror, she noticed, as she picked up a jar of “otto of roses” and started dabbing it onto her face and neck. He seemed wholly riveted by the proceedings and Emmie reflected on the odd thing he had said about “settling for whatever intimacy she would afford him.”

Was this one such intimacy? she wondered, rubbing in the lotion in sweeping circular motions. She had noticed from the first that Jeremy liked to watch her performing such attentions. It was so strange how entranced he was by it all.

Could it be because he had never known this kind of intimacy with a woman before? After all, he could not remember his own mother and it sounded as though relations with his first wife had broken down almost immediately.

“Mr. Wimble seems a nervous sort of man,” she commented, reaching for a comb and making a show of smoothing her hair with it. Lottie had already given her hair a thorough brushing after her bath, so this was mere pretense, but she could not resist, seeing how he leaned forward to watch her efforts.

Tonight, she wore a nightgown trimmed with pale blue ribbon, and a frothy sort of over-robe with a good deal of lace.

“He’s a sensitive sort of chap, Wimble,” Jeremy mused aloud. “Highly strung, rather like a racehorse.”

The slight frown on Emmie’s brow cleared. “Oh, I see. Artistic temperament, I suppose.” She had almost run out of things to do. Casting her eye over her dressing table, she picked up the glass stopper of her lavender water and ran it lightly over her wrists. Jeremy sat up on the bed to watch with interest this new step in proceedings.

“Precisely. Think of him as a second Fernando,” Jeremy suggested. “Speaking of which, shall we crack open your crate of novels tomorrow afternoon? I have not so much as peeked at them yet, and it is certainly high time we choose the next for our book club.”

Emmie’s smile faded. “Pinky is moving out to her cottage tomorrow,” she said quietly.

“So soon?” He frowned. “Surely the smell of paint must still linger throughout.”

Emmie shook her head. “Teddy drove her over there yesterday in his little horse and trap and they said all the windows had been left open, so the remaining fumes were only very faint.”

“All the more reason for us to choose a book before she departs, so she can take a copy with her. Did I tell you I bought them in sets of three?”

Emmie’s eyes widened. “You bought three copies of every book?”

“Certainly, I did. I told you, did I not, that I wanted to start our own book club just for the three of us.”

She was touched. Looking at him in the mirror, she said warmly, “That was a very generous thought, my lord.”

He looked faintly embarrassed by such praise, waving it aside. “We will still have her often here, I am sure. We can send a carriage to collect her and drop her off at any time. You can visit her there whenever you like. There are Teddy’s lessons too.”

Emmie rose from her chair and walked over to the bed, removing her robe and settling herself under the covers. She did not know if he would stay with her tonight or not. She felt unaccustomedly nervous about it. “Did you fix on a schedule for Teddy’s lessons?” she asked.

Jeremy nodded. “Three mornings and two afternoons a week,” he said promptly. “He can have them here or at her cottage, whatever they decide upon.”

“She mentioned inviting us around for tea and cake one afternoon this week.”

Jeremy nodded, then yawned. “Do you mind if I take a nap in here with you?” he asked politely. “I will be sure not to wake you when I take off afterward.”

“Of course not.” She paused, before adding deliberately, “You are most welcome to sleep in here for as long as you like.”

When she woke at midnight to go and change her menstrual cloth, she found him still sleeping soundly beside her. On returning from the bathroom, she half expected to find him gone, but to her surprise he was still there and remained there until seven o’clock the next morning when he went off to his stables.

It proved a wet and rainy day, and after breakfast in the state dining room, Emmie and Pinky retired to her private sitting room to meet with Mr. Penrose for an hour to discuss prospective ideas. This time instead of his sketchbook he brought along a notebook and pencil.

“And have we had any new ideas, Lady Faris?” he asked with a patronizing smile, trying to settle in one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs and wincing over the tight fit. Both Pinky and Emmie had already rejected those, before settling side by side on one of the purple chaise longues. Pinky kept glancing nervously over her shoulder as though afraid she might tumble off without the back support.

“Well, I have been thinking and I like flower gardens,” Emmie said bravely. “Could we possibly use that as inspiration?” Even as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Mr. Penrose drew in a sharp breath, then cast her a pitying look. He tapped his pencil against the pages of his notebook. “Could you elaborate on what precisely you would like me to achieve through such a theme?” he asked with faint contempt.

“Some semblances of a flourishing garden,” Emmie replied, quite at a loss.

“I fear, my lady, that you lack sufficient vision for this task,” he said with a good deal of condescension.

Emmie felt a twinge of annoyance, but as she had shot down both of his proposals so far, she felt she could hardly ask him for a third suggestion.

At this point, Teddy drifted into the room. “Ah, here you both are,” he said with some indignation. “I’ve been looking everywhere. What are you doing, Mama?” he asked, walking over and leaning against her chair.

“Mr. Penrose and I are trying to decide on the new decoration for this room,” she said brightly.

“Why don’t you just do what my first mama did?” he asked.

Mr. Penrose stiffened in his seat. “I hardly think—” he began but Emmie spoke over him.

“And what did she do?” she asked, turning to Teddy.

“She would just give him an object and tell him to furnish the room around it.”

Emmie blinked. “An object?”

He nodded. “In this room, it was this,” he said, skipping over to the six-paneled screen decorated with samurai. “She bought it in London.”

“Well, that would certainly make things a lot simpler,” Emmie said. “So, I simply find one piece of furniture that I like and then Mr. Penrose uses that as inspiration for decorating the whole room?” Teddy nodded.

“I do not think such a method would work in this instance. The first Lady Faris was a very unique woman of taste—” Mr. Penrose began in a patronizing tone.

“Well, she said you were a colossal bore who likely wore a corset,” Teddy interrupted him in his high, clear voice. “She said you creak whenever you sit down.”

Pinky made a muffled sound of distress.

Emmie murmured, “Teddy!” and held her hand out to him. He walked back from the samurai screen to stand dutifully beside her chair. Mr. Penrose turned an unbecoming shade of puce. “I have the very thing,” Emmie said, holding up a finger. “One moment!” Rising from her chair, she walked out and retrieved the papier-maché tilt top table that had belonged to her own mother, carrying it back into the room.

She set it down before Mr. Penrose, who made a great show of recovering his dignity by whipping out some pince-nez from his waistcoat pocket and placing them delicately on his nose. He inspected the small table with a look of distaste on his face.

“It already looks like it belongs in here to me,” Teddy observed with a shrug. “It is black and gold and painted with flowers.”

Emmie was struck by the truth of his observation. “It does, doesn’t it?” she marveled, gazing around the room. “Do you know, I think with a few adjustments, this room could be made very comfortable. Do you not agree, Pinky?”

“Adjustments?” Mr. Penrose said frigidly. “ Comfortable? ” He spoke the word as though it was an insult.

“Yes,” Emmie continued calmly. “I do not like any of those chairs,” she said, taking in the inlaid seats with the sweep of her arm. “And these chaises are not plump enough. Instead, I want some nice comfortable seats that you can sink into, and some matching sofas. I will be joining some ladies’ committees at some point,” she remembered aloud, “so I need adequate seating in here. Also, a desk. I am supposed to write letters in here, so I have need of one.” Not that she knew who she would be writing to, but that was beside the point.

“Oh, that all sounds most appropriate,” Pinky chimed in loyally. “Why, I am certainly looking forward to sitting in our old chairs in Plumtree Cottage. Nothing so comforting as a good serviceable armchair.” She turned eagerly to Emmie. “I wonder, shall I go and request a nice pot of tea for us all?”

“You could ring the bell, dear,” Emmie suggested. “No need to walk all the way downstairs.”

“Oh, er—” Pinky turned a little flustered. “I am certain I saw Colfax’s livery flash past the doorway just a moment ago. I feel sure I can catch him before he descends.”

“Very well,” Emmie said with surprise, but perhaps after all, her friend wished to discuss some detail concerning Plumtree Cottage. Colfax had been helping her with the preparations a good deal. Pinky hurried out and Emmie turned back to Mr. Penrose. “Now what were we—?”

“Do not forget you need a statue, Mama,” Teddy interposed.

Emmie turned toward him blankly. “A statue?”

He nodded, lowering his voice. “You remember, Mama? The twin babies.”

“Ah, yes, the twin babies.” She turned back to Mr. Penrose, who was sitting stiffly upright in his uncomfortable seat. “If you could possibly source a sculpture of twin baby boys from antiquity, holding a pair of snakes, I would be most grateful.” Mr. Penrose stared at her, open-mouthed. “If that is not possible,” she continued calmly, “could we perhaps commission one? After all,” she said, glancing around the room, “now that we will not be replacing all this other furniture, we could use the budget on the sculpture, could we not?”

Mr. Penrose made a spluttering sound, but it was clear he was defeated by this point. He inclined his head and scribbled some notes in his book. “A statue. Antiquity. Two male infants. Two snakes.”

“And they must look as though they are all getting along famously,” she stressed. “The babies and the snakes must be on the very best of terms.”

It seemed he could think of no rejoinder for this. Instead, he asked in shaken tones, “And for your bedchamber, Lady Faris?”

Emmie was momentarily surprised, for she had gained the distinct impression that Mr. Penrose liked to draw out his consultations as much as possible. Now it seemed he could not get their business over with soon enough. They had not even mentioned her bedroom up until this point.

“Ah, now that I do want completely changed,” she admitted. Although she liked the blue of the wallpaper, she was not the greatest admirer of orange, and since the table, cushions, and lamps had been removed, the room was looking a little bare.

Teddy sat up in his seat. “I bet I can guess,” he said. “One moment!” He darted from the room, and Emmie and Mr. Penrose sat in awkward silence. If his suggestion was something dreadful, Emmie wondered if she dared suggest a rose garden as theme. Was Mr. Penrose sufficiently crushed to accept such a suggestion now?

Teddy reentered, brandishing a small statuette of Venus. “Am I right, Mama?” he asked eagerly.

“Oh well done, Teddy!” she said, seizing hold of the suggestion at once. “You are quite right!” She gave him a little round of applause and Mr. Penrose wiped his brow with a silk handkerchief.

“Plaster, columns,” he murmured feverishly, his pencil moving across his page. “A votive niche perhaps?”

As he did not seem to require their input, Emmie exchanged a glance with Teddy, and he started chattering about how soon they could set off to the maze. “I mean to show you three different routes,” he said proudly. “And I have a ball of wool I borrowed from Mrs. Cheviot for Miss Pinson to unravel, so she feels safe she will not get lost.”

“That was a very kind thought,” Emmie told him, hoping Pinky would not get too hopelessly tangled up in the process. Ten minutes later, after taking a few measurements, Mr. Penrose left them to work on his designs in the library. He took his departure coldly, though Emmie was not sure if this was due to his crushing defeat or his corset. Either way, she fancied she would not have any more problems with Mr. Penrose.

The next couple of hours were spent pleasantly, if damply, walking first down to the folly and then to the maze. Emmie and Pinky strolled arm in arm with Teddy leading the way with authority, carrying the still-furled umbrella as though it were a scepter.

“Mama,” he began tentatively when they reached the folly, “what did you mean at dinner last night when you asked if Mr. Wimble was building an amphitheater?”

“Well, that was just a joke, really. I thought it would entertain your papa,” Emmie told him. “You see he told me how he used to pretend the folly was a gladiator training school when he was a child.”

“A ludus,” Teddy agreed. “He used to practice with a wooden sword and strike the columns with it. Like this!” He swung the umbrella with purpose, demonstrating the exact technique one should employ.

“Careful, dear,” Pinky entreated mildly.

“Well, I wish he would build one,” Teddy said glumly. “It would be a jolly sight more impressive than a fake ruin with roses growing over them. Can you not persuade him, Mama? It need only be a small one.”

They ducked inside the folly and Emmie struck a match and lit a candle, revealing the dark interior to Pinky and the half-moon bench.

“What would we use an amphitheater for?” she asked, noticing Teddy was still hovering expectantly for her answer. “If we were to persuade him, then I imagine we would need to convince him it would serve some purpose.”

Teddy’s expression brightened. “Well, we could reopen the ludus,” he suggested. “And I could start training there. Uncle Nye promised that when I’m ten he will give me some boxing lessons, so I could practice in the amphitheater.”

Emmie nodded. “And I suppose we could also put on other performances in there, of a less combative nature.”

Pinky’s ears pricked up. “You mean like poetry recitation and plays?” she asked.

“Why not? We could even display some of your artwork in the folly. Would that not be nice, Teddy? I know you two have plans to do some sketches on the grounds.”

“We could have a show!” Pinky said, clapping her hands. “Maybe even a musical concert in here! If it was cleaned up a little,” she added, glancing around at the dusty chamber. “That domed roof might produce a nice sound.”

Teddy looked a little less enthusiastic about these suggestions. “Ye-es,” he agreed cautiously. “We could do that, when it is not in use for fighting,” he conceded generously.

After inspecting the folly and walking the circumference of the area Teddy was convinced would work best for an amphitheater, they proceeded to the maze, which was not as disorientating as Emmie had expected. Really, it would be quite hard to get lost in it, despite all the tall hedges.

“Oh, what a lovely fountain!” Miss Pinson exclaimed when they reached the fountain at the center. “It would make such a pretty sketch. Is it a seahorse?”

“A hippocampus,” Teddy informed her. “The horse half is supposed to look like my father’s favorite horse, Cadmus.”

“Was his likeness used?” Emmie asked with interest.

Teddy nodded. “Shall you try to find your own way out now? And then you can attempt it on your own with the ball of wool.” Pinky looked alarmed. “Don’t worry,” Teddy assured her. “You won’t see me, but I will make sure you do not get too lost.”

“Take heart,” Emmie said bravely. “I feel sure I have a good sense of direction.”

They did get lost but as Teddy kept popping out from behind hedges and silently pointing the way to them before disappearing again, they managed to find their way back out again without too much fruitless wandering.

The second attempt to find the center with the ball of wool was a lot more chaotic and at one point, Emmie even suspected that Teddy was leading them astray.

“Oh dear, this wool keeps snagging and it feels like this has taken twice as long to reach the middle as the first time,” Pinky lamented.

“Teddy did say there were different routes,” Emmie reminded her. “This one must be the long way round.”

“If only the hedges were pruned a little shorter,” Pinky fretted. “Then we could see direction we should be headed toward.”

“That’s not how it works.” Teddy’s voice spoke out from somewhere nearby, making Pinky give a startled yelp. He rolled out from underneath a hedge. “At one point you have to feel like you’re heading away from the center,” he said earnestly.

“Pinky, you must never come in here alone,” Emmie advised her friend. “If you wish to sketch the fountain you must have a footman accompany you.” For some reason Pinky turned rather red at this suggestion.

“Higgins won’t mind,” Teddy said, dusting himself off. “But Colfax is sometimes rather grumpy.”

“You simply mean he won’t dance to your tune, Teddy,” Emmie replied firmly. “I have always found him most obliging.” The last thing she wanted was for Pinky to turn tongue-tied and nervous around Colfax, who had been so helpful with all the arrangements for Plumtree Cottage.

Luckily, her friend did not seem to be listening, for she was bent over the ball of wool, trying to dislodge it from a tree root. “Oh dear,” she mumbled. “I hope Mrs. Cheviot will not mind her wool being covered in leaves and bits of twig.”

They were in high spirits when they returned to wash and brush up before lunch, which was perhaps just as well, for Mr. Wimble was as quiet as ever and Mr. Penrose somewhat withdrawn. Jeremy was a little late and Emmie breathed a sigh of relief when he came through the door with a warm smile for her and a cheerful greeting for everyone else.

As soon as the food was served—cold chicken and ham, curried eggs, salad potatoes, bread and butter and cutlets—he turned to Pinky and asked to join them in the library after luncheon, explaining about the unboxing of the new novels.

“What a treat!” she said, eyes shining. “I will own, I am very excited to see what books you have purchased for dear Emmie.”

“Not just for me,” Emmie replied. “For Jeremy has purchased three of every one, so that we three may read them together and gather together to discuss them once you have moved out.”

Pinky leaned forward. “Three copies of every novel?” she queried.

“I know,” Emmie said, “the extravagance! But you see, he was entirely in earnest about us starting a book club.”

“Of course I was in earnest,” Jeremy broke in as Pinky started to blink back sudden tears. “I found our conversation around Love’s Innocence Fled most illuminating. I look forward to many more such discussions.”

“That is so kind,” Pinky sniffed. “And almost like having our very own lending library here in Vance Park.”

“Why, so it is!” Emmie said, lowering her fork. “What a lovely way to think of it. I don’t suppose,” she said, turning to Jeremy, “that there are any committees formed hereabouts to start one?”

“A lending library?” he said slowly. “I have no idea. I rather doubt it in such a small place as Penarth. Perhaps you could start one?”

“A committee?” she responded, quite startled.

“Why not?” he asked coolly.

“Well, it might be a little ambitious to leap right into starting one as chair, when I have never actually sat on one as a rank and file member,” she pointed out.

“Well, you could join the one to repair the church roof first and use that for practice.”

As they had attended Penarth’s local church, St. Werburgh’s, the previous Sunday and sat in the family pew, Emmie knew for a fact its roof was intact. “I shall wait for Reverend Ryland’s wife to visit and tell me all about the local worthy causes,” she decided.

“Very sensible,” Jeremy agreed. “Has Teddy offended Penrose?” he asked in undertones as lemon pudding and a large jam tart were deposited on the table.

“No,” Emmie answered in a bold-faced lie. She could not bring herself to allow her stepson to be punished for his part in defeating the designer. He was her staunch ally after all.

“The man seems unaccustomedly subdued,” Jeremy murmured.

“I can’t think why. We have agreed very nicely on how to furnish my rooms.”

“Excellent. I want to speak to him next about painting a mural in the folly.”

“A mural?”

“I was thinking the judgment of Paris.”

Emmie’s face fell. She glanced quickly at Teddy, but he was currently badgering Mr. Wimble with questions. “You are not dedicating the folly to Venus, are you?” she asked with a sudden misgiving.

Jeremy lifted his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“It is possible to have too much of a good thing, my lord!” she reminded him. “I believe Aesop said as much.”

“Nonsense!”

“Well, it was someone like Aesop in any case, and Teddy thinks there are too many representations of Venus here at Vance already!” she hissed. Should she tell him that her own bedroom was to be decked out in such a fashion? For some reason, she had decided she wanted that to be a surprise.

“When Teddy is master here, he can rededicate it to whoever he thinks fit!” he retorted. “I happen to like Venuses. They remind me of you. They always have.”

Emmie spluttered faintly. “How about ancient heroes and heroines?” she suggested. “We could have…” Her mind turned blank.

“Atalanta?” Jeremy suggested.

“Yes! After your horse, and the famous heroine,” she said vaguely, having forgotten the story. “She had a golden apple too, didn’t she?”

“Three of them,” Jeremy agreed, “but none of them said ‘To the Fairest,’”

“And, um, Theseus and the minotaur!” Emmie dredged up from memory. Who was the one with the golden fleece? “Only think how pleased Teddy would be!” she continued when recollection failed.

Jeremy glanced across at his son, who was chattering away to the unresponsive architect. “It would puff up his consequence even more! He would expect his own personal amphitheater next.”

“I’m afraid he already does,” Emmie admitted. “But I have thought of several uses we could have for one,” she continued earnestly, “and it really would be a useful thing to have here at Vance.”

Jeremy’s outraged expression instantly softened into one of diversion. “You think a Roman amphitheater would be a useful thing to have about the place, do you, Ballentine?” Clearly, he derived much amusement from this, a smile playing about his lips.

“Well,” she said weakly, “you did say that it is customary for the lords of Faris to build something new at Vance when they marry.”

“I did,” he agreed. “But an amphitheater was not precisely what I had in mind.”

“Well, I wish you would reconsider.”

“For you? Of course.” He reached across and picked up her hand, carrying it to his lips and kissing it. “Wimble, are you listening?” He glanced across at the architect. “My viscountess wants an amphitheater. You must start on that as soon as the current plans are drawn up.”

Teddy whooped and jumped out of his chair to run around the table to join them. He embraced first Emmie and then his father.

“Just a small one!” Emmie added, suddenly feeling guilty she had pressed her advantage. It occurred to her that she could ask him for anything at this point and he would likely indulge her. Was it purely affection or that and a mixture of guilt that prompted his generosity?

Drat the man. Why did he have to be so distractingly attractive? she wondered as he ruffled Teddy’s hair. And why was she so relieved to finally see a smile that was reflected in his eyes? Recently, she had started wondering if underneath his sunny charm, Jeremy was not as happy as he appeared. That perhaps he never had been. Had that been why he had always drunk to excess?

On the beach that day when Teddy had asked that question, Papa, are you sad? she had seen him for a moment without his surface glamor. The expression on his face had been strangely wistful. Just for a moment, he had looked so crushed to be left out and excluded from their happy party.

She had felt the strongest impulse to reach out to him and draw him in. Absurd really, as Teddy was his son and he had facilitated Pinky leaving her! Stupid to feel he might want to be included in their schemes. After all, they were married, and he had told her at the outset what kind of wife he wanted. He had made no mention of friendship, or even companionship, that she recalled. He wanted a quiet sort of wife who would not give him headaches. The kind of wife who did not make scenes.

She winced slightly, remembering her emotional outburst a few evenings ago. That most definitely had been a scene. She had broken their agreement and he had been exceedingly kind about it. Was it her imagination, or had he been treating her with an extra pair of kidskin gloves ever since? It made her uncomfortable to think it could be hanging over them still, like a cloud obscuring the sun.

She knew that part of the reason for her breakdown was the onset of her women’s monthly. That was often precipitated by heightened emotion and Jeremy had certainly suffered the brunt of it. For several nights now, she had lain awake, vowing to make up for her slip.

She hoped he was not disappointed in her. The thought gave her a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. It had been unfair of her to fling their past in his face like that. She never should have shown him that shameful box. Her cheeks burned even now at the thought of it as she and Pinky followed Jeremy into the library.

Then it suddenly struck her. She had not seen that rosewood box since that night. Had she left it in his room? She froze where she stood in the middle of the room, halfway across the Aubusson rug. Luckily, Jeremy was lifting the lid from the crate and Pinky was peering inside it, so they did not notice her sudden consternation.

She ought to remove her mother’s perfume bottle and her father’s gloves and hurl the rest of it into the fire, she resolved, just like Humphrey’s letters. Holding on to painful memories was stupid , futile even. She needed to let them go, along with any lingering resentment. It was hardly fair now she had agreed to build a life beside him.

Joining them at the crate, she slipped one arm through Pinky’s and one through Jeremy’s, so the three of them stood linked together. “Let’s make this the first official meeting of our book club,” she suggested. “The second meeting we can hold at Pinky’s house in a month’s time.”

Jeremy’s smile, once again, was warm and genuine and Pinky positively glowed. Finally, Emmie felt like she was on the right track. She vowed not to deviate from it again.