27
Emmie still felt somewhat dazed as she met with Mr. Penrose in her sitting room an hour later. At first, in the aftermath of their vigorous coupling, she had been enveloped in a euphoric haze. Jeremy had helped her upright, grabbed a napkin to brush the flour from the bread rolls off her chest, and been very tender as he had examined her elbows and knees and helped her to her feet, straightening the table into some semblance of order.
Then, as the fog had receded, she realized he had apologized again. That had given her a nasty jolt. Looking shamefaced, he said something about his ardor no doubt being due to an excess of self-restraint the previous night and given an awkward laugh. Then he had kissed her hand but did not meet her eye as he had escorted her to her own bathroom, as though she was an invalid instead of a perfectly healthy woman and willing participant!
Admittedly, she had been a little sticky and in need of a wash, but he had acted like he had done her some grievous wrong! Emmie’s crazy high spirits had plummeted back to earth as she shut the bathroom door on him and started unbuttoned her dressing robe.
As she went through her ablutions, she could not avoid concluding that she must have been at fault somehow for her bathing initiative. She must have put him under too much pressure with all that bossing around she had done, and now he felt guilty for what they had done this morning. She supposed it made some sort of sense.
That scenario she had created had been the problem. It had made him solely focused on her pleasure and not his own. That was why he had been so enthusiastic this morning, presumably. Was she not supposed to have enjoyed it? Suddenly, she felt horribly embarrassed by her own fervent response.
Presumably Viscountess Faris should have smacked his hands away and begged him to remember her sense of decorum instead of letting him paw and pet her like that at the breakfast table, let alone rut her over it afterward. Now she just felt horribly unsure of herself all over again.
Still thinking of it later that morning, she sighed, and Mr. Penrose looked up from his sketchbook in perturbation.
“It’s not the sketches,” she assured him hastily. “I just have a slight headache this morning.”
“Perhaps we should postpone our meeting, Lady Faris?” he suggested politely.
“No, no, I will be fine presently.” She forced herself to concentrate on the drawing in front of her, instead of Jeremy’s confusing conduct. This time, it was a sketch of her transformed bedroom. “Will it not be a great undertaking to add all these fake columns to the room?” she asked slowly.
“Not at all,” Mr. Penrose replied, looking sure of himself. “They will hardly present a challenge as they will not need to withstand the elements, being indoors.”
“And this marble effect on the walls? How will it be achieved?”
“Mere paint and lacquer,” he explained. “The technique is fiddly, but the final effect is well worth it, and I know a splendid tradesman I can book to achieve it.”
“And this large scallop shell above the bed…?”
“A wall painting. I will paint that myself,” he added with mock modesty.
“I do like it,” Emmie said truthfully, for the room did look pretty in its tones of pink and cream. Mr. Penrose had added a good deal more detail since their last conversation. She could see that he had added the mirror with the frame decorated with cupids and a red velvet chaise longue.
A chaise longue . Emmie felt her heart thud painfully. Had this idea been a terrible mistake? Would having her room done out as Venus’s grotto mean that Jeremy would feel compelled to be scrupulously gentle and assiduous to her forevermore? She gulped. “Yes, it is looking very fine,” she said aloud.
Mr. Penrose preened. “Yes, I thought you would be pleased,” he said with his customary self-satisfaction. “I did as you asked and took the Venuses of Vance for my inspiration.” He frowned. “The only reference that I could not trace was the cupid mirror.”
“Oh, of course,” Emmie replied without thinking. “That painting is in Lord Faris’s bedroom so you won’t have seen that one, but I think it must be his favorite.”
Embarrassed comprehension seemed to dawn on Mr. Penrose’s face. “I see ,” he mused and instantly struck a line through a full-size statue of Aphrodite he had placed in the center of the room.
“Why are you removing the statue?” Emmie asked in surprise.
“She seems suddenly superfluous,” he said shortly. “We will have attendant doves, and perhaps a statue of Eros instead. They are the companions of Venus, are they not?”
She watched him sketch in a pair of Grecian urns and fill them with roses. “The dressing table will still need to be a focus of the room,” she reminded him, thinking of Jeremy’s preoccupation with her being sat at it.
“This is your dressing table here,” he said, gesturing to a vaguely penciled shape.
“I see.” She nodded, unable to think of a reason to completely change their plans at this late stage. No doubt Mr. Penrose had found her a far more troublesome client than the previous viscountess, she thought glumly. She could not say she blamed him at this point.
Jeremy did not appear to lunch, which dismayed her, though she was not really surprised. He had gone to the stables very late that morning. Still, being forced to sit in the state dining room and make polite conversation with Mr. Wimble and Mr. Penrose depressed her spirits even further.
She was just reflecting that Teddy must have taken his lunch with Pinky when the lady burst into the room, puffing and panting, and looking fit to drop.
“Pinky!” Emmie cried, jumping up from her seat. Mr. Wimble let out a startled yell and almost fell off his seat. Ignoring her timid guest, Emmie hurried to her friend’s side. “Whatever is it, my dear?”
Her poor friend clutched at her hand, her face quite white with fear and her own hands trembling. “Something terrible has happened, I’m sure of it!” she said tearfully, clutching her side. “The dear boy, Master Teddy! He never appeared for his lessons as we arranged. Oh, I’m so terribly worried that something has befallen him! I walked the entire way, scanning the hedgerows and ditches in case he’d met with an accident on the way, but I found nothing and no sign of his pony!” She collapsed into sobs as Emmie helped her into a chair.
“Pinky, you must be calm. We will send word to Lord Faris down at the stables.” She looked about and found Higgins hovering. “Higgins, please can you send for Lord Faris at once and explain that it’s urgent. Teddy did not show for his lessons with Miss Pinson this morning.”
Higgins hurried from the room and Emmie turned back to her distraught friend. “You arranged to meet especially early this morning, did you not? I wonder…?”
“Early?” Pinky’s red-rimmed eyes widened. “Oh no! Indeed, we had agreed to meet rather later than usual, for we spent so long over our sketching earlier in the week.” Her anxious eyes scanned Emmie’s face. “Lord Faris assured me that we could alter the daily hours accordingly.”
“Oh, I am sure, Pinky, please do not distress yourself over that. At what time was Teddy due to join you?”
“Half past ten,” she replied promptly. “I delayed until eleven, for sometimes…” Her voice faltered. “Well, sometimes the dear boy can be a little late.” She dissolved into tears again. “But never later than half an hour! So, I knew, you see, that something must be very wrong.”
“I quite see,” Emmie said, biting her lip. For one thing, she saw that Teddy was a poor timekeeper. Why had he left the house so early that morning? He must have had some other plans. What on earth could have happened to him? Her mind careered wildly from one unlikely possibility to another. His maternal grandparents had kidnapped him! His mother had reappeared from the Continent and laid claim to him!
With a concerted effort she got a hold of herself and straightened up, Pinky’s hand still held tightly in her own. Mr. Penrose was sat hungrily tucking into his lunch while Mr. Wimble eyed watched nervously over the table as though he found them wildly unpredictable creatures he did not quite like to take his eyes off.
“Do not trouble yourselves, gentlemen,” Emmie said sarcastically. “Please continue eating your fill.” She turned back to her friend. “Pinky, shall we remove ourselves into the music room? That is the most comfortable room in my opinion.”
Pinky rose on unsteady legs and Emmie bolstered her up as they made their way through to the music room. Poor Pinky was practically limping by this point and Emmie suspected she had blistered her heel by hurrying the whole way on foot.
“Sit down here, dear, and I will have a nice cup of tea brought through,” she urged, seeing her friend into a comfortable chair.
Emmie had just hurried back into the hallway when she saw Colfax advancing down the corridor with a surprisingly wrathful expression on his face. He checked his step at the sight of her, halting before her.
“She’s here?” he asked eagerly. “Where is she?”
“The music room,” Emmie stated, and he turned on his heel at once, leaving her standing. “Have you heard any news?” she called after him as he disappeared in the direction of the music room, affecting not to hear her.
Emmie hesitated, then decided discretion might be the better part of valor at this point, so she left Pinky to Colfax’s tender mercies and went in search of Bridget to fetch them a fresh tray of tea. No sooner had she given the order than she hurried back. Before she had even reached the music room door, she was astonished to hear upraised voices.
“You know nothing about the bond that child and I share!” Pinky’s voice said shrilly. “Let me tell you, if he is beaten as a consequence of your vile slander, I will never, never forgive you!” Emmie blinked to hear Pinky’s unaccustomed vehemence. She had reached the doorway now and stood there in shock to see her friend in such a state. “He is my charge, my responsibility and such a sweet little boy!” Pinky burst out passionately, striking her scrawny chest with her fist.
Emmie hurried forward, dismayed to see her friend so distressed. Colfax was staring right at Pinky, his face pale and tight and his chest heaving. “Pinky dear, you must calm yourself. I am sure there is no need for such passion. Please tell me,” she said, turning to Colfax. “Do you know of my stepson’s whereabouts?”
“I do,” he answered gruffly. “It was just as I suspected. He’s hightailed it to the fair at Marston, along with the vicar’s two young scamps. They planned the whole jaunt. There was no need for Miss Pinson to go haring off like she did, distressing herself and—”
“It’s not true!” Pinky sobbed. “You malign him. He would not do such a wicked thing. I am sure something terrible has befallen him.”
Emmie pressed her lips together. It seemed highly likely to her that Teddy would have absconded for such a tryst. She and Colfax exchanged a look. “Pinky dear,” she said soothingly and knelt beside her friend’s chair. “You will give yourself the most dreadful headache if you carry on this way.” A footfall in the doorway had her quickly turning her head, but it was only Gladys with the tea tray. “Here is a nice pot of tea, now shall we—?”
“What’s this all about?” Jeremy’s voice cut through them all as he strode in the room in his riding clothes. He swung about, taking in the scene. Colfax took a step forward, but Jeremy’s gaze rested on Emmie quizzically.
“Teddy did not turn up for his lessons,” she explained quickly, “and Pinky has walked the entire route he would have taken and found no sign of him. Colfax has discovered a plot to attend a fair with the Ryland boys over at…” She turned back to Colfax.
“Marston,” he supplied readily enough.
“Right,” said Jeremy grimly. “Then, that is where I am headed now. Colfax, you will accompany me.”
“Oh but—” Pinky started up from her seat in agitation. “My lord, you must not—”
Jeremy hesitated and for one horrible moment, Emmie thought he would be dismissive of her. Then he walked toward her, taking Pinky’s hand in his. “You must not distress yourself, Miss Pinson. This is not the first time that boy of mine has decided to kick over the traces. Nor the last, I suspect. I hope you will let my wife make you comfortable in one of the guest rooms. You look like you need a lie down.”
Pinky collapsed back into her seat, clearly not reassured at all. Jeremy turned to Emmie. “I’ll bring him back,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it before striding from the room. Emmie looked at Colfax, who was still watching her friend with a bleak expression on his face. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed, and for a moment Emmie thought he would speak, then he bowed his head and followed her husband out of the door.
It slammed shut after him, and Pinky sat with an aghast expression on her face. “Oh dear.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, he is such a dear little boy! Oh, I am convinced he did not mean anything naughty by it!”
There was much handwringing and weeping before Emmie could convince her to drink her cup of tea and nothing could induce poor Pinky to eat so much as a morsel. “Oh, if he should be whipped for it,” poor Pinky lamented, “I will never, never, never forgive myself! If you had only heard the pitiless way that Leonard, I mean, Colfax spoke about it! He said—he said—”
“He said Teddy deserved a hiding most likely,” Emmie interrupted calmly. “He must have been very indignant on your behalf. All the same, I do not think that Teddy would really hold it against him. You should hear the way he disciplines his toy soldiers.”
Pinky lifted a hand to her brow, and Emmie set about convincing her to take a lie down upstairs with the curtains closed and a damp cloth on her brow. Eventually, Mrs. Cheviot, having heard about the commotion, slipped into the room and added her entreaties to Emmie’s.
“Lawks, you must not think anyone blames you for the young master’s wildness, Miss Pinson!” she said comfortably as they climbed the stairs together. “He’s just showing his Vance blood, that’s all. Why you should have seen the tricks he pulled on that old tutor of his. Scant ceremony he showed him, you may be sure!
“Right fond of you, Master Teddy is. I’m sure he’ll have some nasty cheap bit of boiled sugar stored for you in his pocket and expect you to forgive him everything when he presents you with it!” She tutted fondly. “The wickedness of the boy! And now his lordship’s had to ride all the way to Marston and back, it’s too bad of him, really it is! And young Master Clarence and Master Freddie, the vicar’s boys, will need bringing back, too, and they’ll be in disgrace and the vicar most put out by it all!”
They saw Pinky settled comfortably in her old room and Emmie sat in a chair by her bed until her friend lay calm at last. She was on the verge of sleep when she said suddenly in a tired voice, “You’ll never guess who I bumped into last night. Walking down my lane past the duck pond.”
“Who was it, dear?”
“The Vance ghost,” she answered simply, giving Emmie quite a start. “Or one of them at least. The one that foretells misfortune.”
“Lady Frances!” Emmie said stunned accents.
Pinky nodded. “She walked right past me in her red dress. Seemed to be in quite a hurry.”
“Did she, well, say anything to you?” Emmie asked curiously.
“No. Not a word. Just nodded her head at me. I couldn’t quite take it in at the time. I was so surprised by her French hood. By the time I realized why she was dressed that way, she had already passed me, and when I turned about, there was no trace of her at all.”
“That was why I was so alarmed when the dear child did not turn up this morning. Are you quite, quite sure that there is nothing to worry about?” she asked, turning fearful eyes on Emmie. “Only, well, the heir to Vance Park has disappeared, and I saw one of the family ghosts .”
“Quite sure,” Emmie said firmly, reaching over to pat her hand. “You are thinking of our current novel, The Haunting of Jennings Hall , which features a lost heir. Don’t you remember what Jeremy said? He saw both ghosts himself as a child and nothing too dreadful occurred.” At least, she thought that was what he had said. Something about it happening on his twelfth birthday.
Pinky seemed comforted by this thought and closed her eyes again. “Yes, that is doubtless what I am thinking of,” she echoed, drifting off into an exhausted sleep, and Emmie crept out of the room to await the others.
After returning to the music room, Emmie took up her novel to distract herself, but Pinky’s strange encounter occupied her mind. She walked over to the display case of cameos and examined Lady Frances’s and Lady Mary’s miniature portraits again.
Now which one of them died young and which died a spinster? She could not remember for the moment. She felt a little jealous that both Pinky and Jeremy should have seen the family ghosts and she had not seen a trace of even one. She must ask Teddy if he ever had, though she felt sure he would have volunteered such information by now, young rascal that he was.
She hoped he did emerge from this scrape unscathed. Jeremy had looked so intractable, despite his words to her friend. Accompanied by his two companions, surely nothing too dire would have befallen the boy. She could not settle to her book, and hearing voices an hour or so later, she threw it down and jumped up as the door opened. It was Jeremy and beside him, a tearful, chastised-looking Teddy.
“Oh, Teddy!” Emmie cried, hurrying to his side. “You are not hurt? Nothing ails you?”
“No, Mama,” he sniffed, glancing up at his father. She embraced him briefly and found he was very sticky and rather dusty.
“Then he was at the fair at Marston?”
Jeremy nodded. “He was indeed. What do you have to say to your stepmother?”
“I’m sorry, Mama.” Teddy’s expression was soulful and contrite. His bottom lip quivered.
“I’m very glad to hear it, Teddy,” she responded gravely but not unkindly. “Because of your tricks, poor Pinky has blistered her heels and cried herself into a raging headache. She also fell out with a good friend of hers because she refused to believe you could be guilty of such naughtiness.”
“I bet it was Colfax,” Teddy said resentfully. “He told me I am not allowed to call her Pinky.”
“If she did not give you express permission to do so, then he is quite right,” Jeremy responded coldly.
“May I see her, Mama?” Teddy appealed.
Emmie hesitated. “She is sleeping now, Teddy,” she prevaricated.
“Then no, you may not,” Jeremy cut in sternly.
“But I do think it will be a fitful and disturbed sleep until she is assured of Teddy’s safe return,” Emmie said, seeing Teddy’s palpable dismay.
Jeremy gave her a level look. “What do you suggest, then?”
“I think Teddy should be bathed and put in his nightclothes and then allowed to see her for ten minutes only,” Emmie said with decision.
Teddy gasped, clutching at his father’s sleeve hopefully. “Papa?”
“Very well, but consider yourself extremely fortunate, young man.”
“I do. Thank you, Mama,” he said politely.
“You will take your supper in the nursery this evening and have an extremely early night,” Jeremy added.
Teddy lowered his eyes and wished Emmie a subdued “Good night.”
Jeremy nodded to her and then escorted his son from the room. Emmie returned to her seat, judging her husband was best placed to deal with this situation without her trailing in their wake. Indeed, she was touched that he had deferred to her judgment at all.
Picking up her book, she tried once more to lose herself in The Haunting of Jennings Hall. It was not easy, and when Mrs. Cheviot tiptoed into the room to ask about Master Teddy, she was glad to cast it aside and explain that Colfax’s deductions had been proved correct.
Mrs. Cheviot pursed her lips, but there was a decided gleam in her eyes as she retreated, no doubt intent on spreading the word in the servants’ quarters. Emmie went up to change before dinner, donning a gown she had not worn before of cream satin decorated with rows of green silk leaves and extravagant pink roses.
She was perhaps a touch overdressed for dining at home, but they were expecting guests at dinner—Amos and Nellie Tavistock and the vicar and his wife. Considering what had happened, she supposed the Rylands might not show up, given both their sons were now in disgrace.
It turned out however that the Reverend Ryland and his wife were very keen to attend and assure their hosts that both Clarence and Frederick were receiving appropriate punishment for their part in the crime. Jeremy, when he finally appeared, listened very seriously to what the vicar had to say and then suggested that the boys had succumbed to the promptings of youthful folly rather than any terrible wickedness.
Mrs. Ryland looked visibly relieved, while the vicar squared his shoulders and suggested that his eldest, Clarence, more than likely deserved the lion’s share of the blame, as he was the oldest of the three boys and “likely the ringleader.” Jeremy refused the opportunity to apportion blame and said he was sure that all three boys must be equally at fault and held accountable, despite Amos Tavistock’s determination to make light of the situation, asserting that “boys will be boys” and telling several tales of his own boyhood misdemeanors.
After smiling politely at the older gentleman’s exploits, Jeremy explained to the Rylands that Teddy had been sent to bed early and would forfeit the privilege of riding over to his lessons for the foreseeable future. Starting tomorrow, one of the grooms would drop him off and pick him up each day in the trap. Mrs. Ryland opined that Master Teddy would feel this punishment “very keenly,” and Jeremy agreed but pointed out that such privileges were earned, and Teddy had showed himself sadly undeserving of such trust.
Reverend Ryland looked much struck by this and sent a few thoughtful glances Emmie’s way over the next two courses. When they took their leave at the end of the night, he shook her hand, and told her that he believed she was exerting a beneficial influence over Vance Park. Emmie was startled and wondered if he was referring primarily to the fact they now sat in the Vance family pew every Sunday.
When she voiced this suspicion later, while seated at her dressing table, Jeremy snorted. “More like he attributes my responsible parenting to your improving influence.”
Emmie lowered her hairbrush. “Oh, but that’s nonsense! You have always been a good father, I am sure.”
He nodded. “Yes, I like to think so, but mind you, I never fostered such close contact with the vicarage before now. The vicar never dined here before, so he is probably wholly in ignorance of my excellent parenting.”
“He’s never dined here before?”
He shook his head. “Amanda was wholly contemptuous of ‘provincial company.’ It’s probably just as well. The one time Edgar Needham dined with us, she drank too much, sat on his lap, and embarrassed the poor lad with her blatant overfamiliarity. The whole thing was an unmitigated disaster.”
Emmie found herself remembering Lord Atherton saying Amanda had either issued tantrums or indecent proposals. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said awkwardly.
Jeremy shrugged. “I always knew Amanda was an errant flirt. I have been something of a flirt myself in the past. I’ve always believed it to be a harmless practice in the main, but then I knew that neither of us would remain remotely faithful in our marriage.” Emmie tried to hide her reaction to these words but realized she had failed miserably when he added, “It’s often the case in fashionable marriages, Ballentine.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she answered primly before she could stop herself.
He shrugged. “How about yours?” he asked after a heavy pause.
“Mine?” she asked in confusion. “You mean Humphrey? He was not remotely flirtatious.”
For a moment, Jeremy looked as though he had swallowed something rather unpleasant. “You were never married to Stockton, Emmeline,” he said tensely. “Must I point that out to you?”
“No, of course not!” She turned in her seat to look at him. “What—then what did you mean?”
“I was harkening back to the subject of fathers,” he explained rather tersely.
“Oh. Sorry.” She considered the subject, trying to match Jeremy’s impartial tone when he said he had been a flirt in the past. Had he flirted with Squire Pebmarsh’s daughters? she suddenly wondered, remembering Mrs. Needham’s subtle, insinuating comments on that subject. Horrid, sly words that were hard to pin down.
Goodness, how she had disliked her! The wretched woman had been smiling the whole time she had voiced her surprise, oh so gently, in Jeremy’s choice of second bride. It had given Emmie a horrible sort of satisfaction afterward to learn that her predecessor had not cared for her either!
To be fair, it had not only been Mrs. Needham who had hinted at Jeremy’s popularity with the opposite sex. Even the vicar’s wife had implied that Blanche Pebmarsh had hoped to capture his interest.
With a jolt, Emmie realized that Jeremy was still looking at her expectantly. “Being my father’s daughter was not so bad,” she said quickly to cover her abstraction, “but I should not have wished to be his employee. In fact, to tell the truth, I could have wished he had done things differently in a fatherly capacity, though he could be entertaining and even pleasant company when he was in a convivial mood.”
“What kinds of things would you have liked him to do differently?” he asked at once.
“Well, he could have given me some insight as to his business, for one. He left me in an entirely ridiculous position on his death.” Jeremy was silent. “I consider it his fault that I made foolish decisions after he had passed,” she said indignantly.
“You mean, appointing Stockton as head of Ballentine Trading?” he asked silkily, and Emmie had to force herself not to bristle.
“Yes,” she agreed. “In fact, that was entirely my father’s fault. He told me to do that. It was practically the last thing he said to me.” She hesitated. “Though, perhaps I would have done that in any case,” she added fairly.
Jeremy looked annoyed. “Did your father tell you to marry him?” he asked confrontationally.
Emmie nearly gasped. Refusing to meet his gaze in the mirror, she shook her head. “Not as such, though he told me I could do a lot worse. I think—I have always thought deep down that he encouraged Humphrey to propose to me.”
Jeremy nodded. “I doubt he would have had the nerve to do so if your father had not sanctioned it, but I don’t know how you could do much worse than wed a bigamist,” he added dryly. “Even I did not manage quite those depths of depravity.”
Emmie felt herself turn red. “Of course, Humphrey would never actually have married me,” she said wretchedly. “That would have been a crime.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Must you always rush to his defense?” he asked with disgust.
Emmie set her hairbrush down very carefully. Talking of Humphrey around him was definitely a mistake, she was learning. It had the unfortunate effect of making him antagonistic. “You never said how Teddy’s interview with Pinky went,” she said brightly, changing the subject. Her voice sounded high and unnatural. “Please tell me.”
He did not answer at once, expelling his breath in an irritated hiss of air. “About as well as can be expected under the circumstances,” he answered at last. “Teddy climbed on the bed beside her and was most contrite. Miss Pinson wept over him and likely thinks of him as more saintly than ever,” he answered irritably. “I fear Mina was right. Your friend is no match for him.”
Emmie felt a flash of annoyance and had to tamp it down. Had she not said so from the very first? And he had refused to listen to her! Pointing this out now would doubtless be a mistake, so instead she bit her tongue. “You will never guess who Pinky met last night,” she carried on, her steely calmness sounding artificial even to her own ears.
He scrutinized her for a moment before responding. “Who?”
“Lady Frances Vance.”
“Lady—?” Jeremy looked startled, sitting up.
“Yes, one of the family ghosts.” She nodded. “She met her in the lane, and Lady Frances nodded to her.”
Jeremy, who had looked as though he was about to dismiss this as so much nonsense, hesitated. “She nodded?” he asked slowly.
“Yes. Pinky said before she could register who it was, she had passed her by, and then you know, when she looked back over her shoulder, she was gone. Vanished into thin air.”
“Extraordinary,” Jeremy murmured. “But then, I suppose she is practically a Vance by this point.”
“Is that what she did when you saw her? Nodded, I mean.”
He opened his mouth and then shut it again. “That was all a very long time ago,” he said dismissively. “I’m sure I can hardly remember it now.” His answer, Emmie was convinced, was a barefaced lie.
“Why do you suppose Pinky saw her now?” she persisted, unable to hide her curiosity. “I am quite convinced she did, you know. She said she noticed her red dress and French hood and feared it was some terrible portent.”
“Her red dress?” he repeated carefully, then gave a short laugh. “Well, there you have it. Miss Pinson did not receive a dire warning from Lady Frances at all. She saw her sister. She needs to put her wedding cake back under her pillow.”
“You mean—?” Emmie gasped.
“Who knows? Maybe Lady Mary was simply feeling bored and mischievous.” He climbed off the bed and sauntered over to the connecting door. “Do you know, I feel rather tired this evening. I believe I’ll retire early.”
Emmie shrugged her shoulder. “As you wish, my lord.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, one hand on the door handle. “Doubtless you are tired after all the excitement of the day,” he said with icy politeness.
“Doubtless you are, you mean,” she corrected him. “The ride to Marston and back must have put you quite out of temper.”
He huffed again. “It was not the ride that put me out of temper,” he retorted, then seemed to bite back his next words. He stood there for a moment, seemingly waging some inward war with himself. Emmie watched him closely. He was trying to avoid saying anything else contentious, she decided.
“Will you make me a promise, Ballentine?” he asked casually, though she could tell from his bearing that he was not remotely at his ease. “Will you promise me that we will have no more talk of Stockton for at least, oh, I don’t know, a calendar month, say?”
Emmie regarded him speechlessly. He spoke as though she was always raising the subject of her former fiancé! She had only mentioned him now because she had misunderstood his question. And in any case, had not Jeremy mentioned him first? Seeing her husband’s raised brow, she roused herself to answer his request. “Very gladly!” she responded tartly.
He slammed the door after him and Emmie was strongly tempted to cross the room and lock it after him!