31

They took a hurried leave of Nye, who, to Jeremy’s evident surprise, rounded the bar to shake his hand and clap him on the back. “Not bad, Faris,” he said, looking him up and down. “Not bad at all. I have hopes of you yet. I’m glad to see you put an end to all that mannerly bollocks. Truth is, Mina steered you astray a bit there.” He winced. “It’s true we take walks on the beach and plan our future together and such, but before we got to that point, we had to have it out. Truth be told, I didn’t take my blinkers off before she gave me the shock of my life and screamed in my face that she hated my guts.”

Turning to a mystified Emmie, he said, “You’d better come along to dinner with us next week. Mina’s been waiting for you to call here first. She’s got some odd notion that springing an inn on you isn’t quite right and proper, but I think we can dispense with such ceremony between family, don’t you?”

“Oh y-yes, of course! Thank you for, well, for standing by and ensuring fair play,” she said, borrowing from his own vocabulary.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Well, it wasn’t exactly London Prize Ring Rules,” he said, eyeing Jeremy’s grazed knuckles. “But it did at a pinch.”

Lottie was waiting for them in the public parlor and to Emmie’s consternation was standing over the bloodied bowl of water whispering to Corin. As soon as she saw them, she hurried over, looking wide-eyed and excited. Emmie had a sinking suspicion that at least some garbled version of events would find their way to the servants’ hall. She only hoped she would not feature too harshly in the retelling.

Once outside, Jeremy saw them both into the carriage and mounted Cadmus. “I’ll see you back at the house,” he said briefly, and Emmie’s heart sank. Oh dear, oh dear , she thought and hoped he was not going to withdraw once more into icy politeness. Looking up, she saw Lottie watching her avidly.

“Reckon your old friend from London will be returning there pretty sharpish!” Lottie said with satisfaction.

“I expect so,” Emmie agreed.

“His lordship saw to that. Never seen him so irate. Mark my words, I said to Corin, soon as I saw him barging in, things are turning ugly! And then we hear the scuffle and Master Nye appears calling for hot water and brandy for the guest from room three. ‘What for at this time of the morning, it’s not godly,’ that old servant of his replies. ‘He’s already had his shave and the hour’s not decent for liquor.’ Then Master Nye he turns round and says, ‘His lordship’s knocked him down and bloodied his nose for him.’”

Emmie stirred in her seat, wishing her brother-in-law could have been a little more discreet.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Lottie rattled on. “Cos everyone always agreed his lordship had nary a jealous bone in his body, what with the way her previous ladyship used to carry on, and him never batting an eye!”

Emmie cleared her throat, unsure of how to reply. “He…he never showed any jealousy before?”

“Not one bit!” Lottie responded with alacrity. “Not even when she provoked him ever so! That tutor of Master Teddy’s, she used to embarrass everyone, the way she hung all over him! And then, there was that time she made a proper show of herself over Mr. Needham from Benham Hall. His lordship just looked bored. The poor gentleman took off like a scalded cat!”

Lottie settled back into her seat, getting comfortable. “Mrs. Cheviot used to say that mebbe that was what she wanted all along, for his lordship to defend her honor like, instead of simply looking the other way, but he never did. Not even once.” She shot a speculative look at Emmie. “And then today, you go to say goodbye to your old London friend and what does he do but up and draws his cork! Clean broke his nose, too, that’s what that old servant said. She reckoned he’d have two black eyes before long too!”

Emmie fanned her hot face with her glove. “It was all very unfortunate,” she murmured, at a loss how else to respond.

“It’s not as though he could have thought there was anything untoward going on, not when you took me with you as chaperone,” Lottie pointed out. “Maddened with jealousy, that’s what he was.” She nodded contentedly. “You mark my words.”

Arriving at the house, they found Jeremy already awaiting them. He opened the carriage door and helped her down. He had not changed, and she noticed his disordered neckcloth had flecks of blood on it. “I need to speak with you privately,” he said grimly as soon as Lottie had disembarked.

“Of course.”

“Upstairs.”

She nodded her acquiescence, and he drew her straight into the house and up the stairs. To her surprise, he led her to his rooms, to the adjoining sitting room she had glimpsed that very morning. Once inside, with the door shut, he turned to her. “Before I start, is there anything you want to say?” His tone was perfectly controlled and calm.

Oh God, he was going to be all polite again, and she couldn’t bear it. What should she do? Apologize? No, that would not suffice. If she went all polite as well, they would get nowhere. Right, it was clearly up to her. She squared her shoulders.

“Why did you do it?” she asked in a loud, clear voice. “Why did you kiss me like that, and then go and announce your engagement to Amanda Liversedge. That’s what I want to know. I’ve always wanted to know. Why?”

He blinked. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. For a moment, he did not speak. Then he simply said, “Wasn’t it obvious, Ballentine?”

“Not to me.”

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Then let me enlighten you. I announced my engagement to her because I was given strict instructions to. Our marriage was an understanding between our families for years. My father arranged the whole thing with Lord Tipton on my twelfth birthday, though I did not actually meet the lady until some years after that.”

“So then, you knew all along?” she said quietly. “The whole time I knew you, that you were unofficially engaged to another?” There was a heavy pause and then he swallowed and nodded. Emmie’s head swam. “Why was it such a big secret, then?”

“A secret?” He looked mildly surprised. “I don’t know that it was ever a secret, precisely. I never really spoke of it because, well, I considered myself damned lucky to get something of a reprieve. Her parents were content to wait for it to be made official, but no later than her twenty-third birthday. Amanda wanted the chance to flaunt herself as a debutante and I was damned eager to experience some of the delights of town before I was forced to the altar. I was two years younger than her, so that meant—”

“It had to be formally announced at the Hawfords’ ball,” Emmie uttered.

He breathed out. “Yes,” he agreed. “Lady Hawford was Amanda’s godmother. Why did you think it was a secret?”

“Because everyone acted so surprised and excited when you announced it, of course!” she burst out. “Talking about what a beautiful couple you made and how it must have been love at first sight! Also, I think it’s pretty obvious that an honorable man would not have dallied with me, and engaged my affections, when he knew all along that he was intended for another!”

“You’re right,” he agreed quite readily. “My actions were not those of an honorable man. Over the years they very rarely have been. But all the same, at that time the choice of bride was not mine to make. If I could have avoided it, I would never have announced it that night. I would never have married her at all. You must know that, Emmeline.”

“How would I know that? You never told me anything. You just kissed me senseless, and then left me at the bottom of the stairs, while you stood at the top of them and announced you were to be wed. It was the most painful night of my life!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “So very, very painful, and you will never understand how I felt! Standing at the foot of those stairs while you—while you—”

“You think I do not understand a broken heart?” he interrupted her incredulously. “How do you think I felt having to make that bloody announcement? I had been dreading it since the day I met you. It had not bothered me particularly in the beginning. Marriage was just a duty, like many others that were incumbent on my position. And then I met you, at the Wallingfords’ tea party in Cavendish Square.”

She gave a start. “What? You didn’t think I’d remember the occasion I first saw you?” he asked challengingly. “Well, I do. Even in that moment, when I first laid eyes on you, I knew that nothing would ever be the same again.” He glanced across the room, at his side table as though looking for something. Then he seemed to recall himself, unclenching his fists and taking a steadying breath.

“If you imagine you were the only one who suffered then you are wrong,” he said unsteadily. “Knowing the announcement was drawing closer and closer with each day, and that we would have to part… I had to drink like a demon even to get through it. If I had not…” His words trailed off angrily, and he shook his head.

“I never should have imposed on you like I did but I could never regret that time, how could I? It was the only time I have ever—” He could not continue for a minute. “Been truly happy,” he concluded after a heavy pause. “It was wrong of me,” he said again, his voice hoarse, “but, I have never, ever forgotten a single moment I spent in your company, and that kiss we shared is my most precious memory of all.” His voice shook.

“I have never entered a garden room, or an orangery, or anything remotely resembling a conservatory that did not make me think of it. Amanda knew I did not love her and that my heart belonged to another from the start. I got disgustingly drunk on our honeymoon and told her so. Not that she cared, not really. She just thought it was her due that every man should adore her. She was a little put out to learn her new bridegroom did not care tuppence for her and never would though.”

Emmie stared at him. “You surely did not tell her that I was the object of your affection?” she asked incredulously.

“I didn’t have to tell her.” He shot her an ironic look. “You and I had danced very near to the flame together that season. It had not escaped everyone’s attention. Amanda lacked many things, but intelligence was not one of them.”

Slowly, she shook her head. “You almost make me feel sorry for her! To be told that by your new bridegroom…”

“Your pity is quite wasted on her. We neither of us married for love.”

“Still…there is such a thing as rubbing salt in the wound.”

Jeremy laughed. “Well, she made sure to return the favor over the next nine years, let me assure you.”

“Besides,” Emmie said, ignoring this comment. “We did not marry for love either.”

He was quiet for a moment. “ You may not have done,” he said at last, leaving Emmie open-mouthed. He turned and walked over to a side cabinet where a jug of water and some glasses stood. Pouring himself a glass, he tossed it down. Emmie wondered if he had looked around earlier because he had felt in need of a more fortifying drink than water. She remembered he had not drunk the brandy Nye had proffered.

Swallowing, she opened her mouth to speak, but he forestalled her. “I wish you would extend to me some of the forgiveness you see fit to lavish on Stockton,” he said, still facing the wall. “But no, when it comes to your husband who adores you, you insist on believing that I married you as some sort of penance and whimsical indulgence of my son!”

“I—I never said that!” she stammered.

He turned about to face her. “I love you, Emmeline. You loved me too, once. I know you did. If you could only find it in your heart to forgive me, then you might be able to feel something for me again. Won’t you at least try?” This last was an appeal that cut right to the heart of her. She stared at him bereft of speech.

When she did not speak, an obstinate look stole over his countenance. “I won’t give up hoping for that, Emmeline. And I may as well tell you now that I am building a conservatory to commemorate our marriage. A conservatory that Wimble is designing for me. I mean to make it the grandest and most ostentatious conservatory in the country and then, I mean to seduce you in it, successfully this time, and to feed you grapes and do every other decadent thing with you that I’ve dreamed of doing with you and to you for years and years!”

His chest heaved. “I’m tired of trying to be the perfect, considerate husband to you, Emmeline, so you’re just going to get the one you’ve got. Faulty, far from perfect, and frequently wrong.”

“I’m perfectly happy with the one I’ve got,” she protested, but clearly not loudly enough, for he carried on as though she had not spoken.

“If you think I am going to respectfully retire from the field, you are quite mistaken in my character. I’m going to build that bloody conservatory and that ridiculous amphitheater and whatever the hell else takes my fancy in my stupid, hopeless quest to try and win your heart.

“I don’t care what it takes, but it might be kind of you to give me some pointers somewhere along the way, as I clearly am not hitting the right targets. Fair warning, though, I mean to go all out now, so you’d better prepare yourself for an onslaught.”

He said the words so direly that Emmie did not know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she hurried across the room and threw her arms about him. He caught her, a surprised look on his face, and they lurched over to a convenient sofa, which they both collapsed upon.

For the briefest of moments, he hesitated, then his lips were seeking hers with a desperate urgency she was only too happy to assuage. “Ballentine,” he panted between kisses, “could you ever—?” She was too eager for his kisses to find out what he was asking her specifically. Instead, she tried to assure him with the enthusiasm of her embrace that she would deny him nothing.

Eventually, she drew back, reluctant to part, but eager to hear the words again. “You—you always loved me, then?” she said, half fearing she had misunderstood him. “Even ten years ago?”

“I loved you desperately. I was so fucking miserable that season, because I knew at the close of it, I would be married to Amanda. I only felt alive on a handful of occasions that entire twelve weeks. You want to know when? It was during every snatched moment I spent with you. The rest of it, I spent numbing myself with drink. How’s that for a confession, Ballentine?” Her eyes filled with tears, but she could not speak. “Or how about the fact I was perilously close to making you an entirely disgraceful offer.” His gaze fell away from hers.

Her heart skipped a beat. “What kind of offer?”

“Becoming my mistress,” he said harshly. “I had nothing else to offer you. Only the fact I respected you and had a strong suspicion you would hate me afterward prevented me. I wrote you a letter in Italy that I had to burn. I behaved disgustingly around you. I can hardly stand remembering how I conducted myself that season. I have tried to forget it ever since.” He looked so shamefaced that Emmie could not look away.

“I wouldn’t have hated you,” she admitted quietly. “I could not have accepted, of course, but actually, I think I would have been rather flattered in a foolish sort of way.”

“Emmeline,” he groaned. “Don’t. Do not make me regret my past any more than I do already.”

She gave a breathless laugh. Suddenly, she felt light as air. Jeremy Vance loved her. He had loved her all along. She laid her hands on either side of his face. “I love you too,” she said simply. “I always have, and I always will. I used to think it was a terrible sort of curse, but now I know it is quite the opposite.”

“Always?” he whispered with such a hopeful look dawning in his eyes that it somehow made her heart ache a little.

“Always,” she responded warmly. “Even when I thought you were quite undeserving of the honor.”

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Oh God, tell me again, Ballentine,” he breathed into her neck. “Don’t ever stop telling me.”

“I still love you. I’ve always loved you. But I can’t carry on kissing you like this,” she added firmly.

“Why not?” he asked, peering down at her.

“Because of your cravat,” she said apologetically. “It’s covered in Humphrey’s nose blood.”

He grimaced, tearing it from his neck at once and casting it onto the floor. “I should go and wash,” he sighed with frustration. “I haven’t changed out of my riding things yet, but I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”

“I could wait for you in your bedroom,” Emmie suggested tentatively, blushing slightly. “Under the covers.”

“Really?” He hesitated. “You would not prefer your own? Last time we were in mine…” He pulled a face.

“Let’s make some better memories there,” she suggested brightly.

He disentangled himself at once and leaped off the sofa. “I’ll send for hot water.” His eyes roamed over her, as though he found it hard to tear himself away, and then he crossed the room, shouting for his valet and shedding his waistcoat.

Twenty minutes later, they were huddled under the covers together naked in his bed, reassuring one another of the strength of their continued love and affection. Their first joining was hurried and almost clumsy in their combined haste to consummate their renewed bond.

Emmie had a suspicion she was grasping him too tightly but every time she tried to ease up her hold of him, he made his dissatisfaction plain. In the end, she simply gave in to her promptings and squeezed the life out of him. It seemed he could not get enough of her in any case. Even when their bodies lay entwined, sated and replete, he did not stop kissing her and murmuring sweet words of love into her ear.

“This is what our wedding night should have been like,” he sighed at last as they collapsed onto the mattress, side by side. “Though honestly, I can’t regret the one we had. I felt so hopeful that we would reach this place eventually.”

“And after all, we have,” she agreed.

He smiled faintly, and as though he could not bear even such a short distance between them, he shifted onto his side toward her and slipped an arm about her waist. “Yes. Eventually.”

“It didn’t really take that long. We have not quite been married three months even!” she pointed out. “And we did have rather a few misconceptions to clear away.”

“It took a lot of effort and a good deal of suffering,” he said sternly, “if you take our ten-year separation into account.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes, that. I wish I had simply told you everything from the start,” he said regretfully, resting his brow against hers. “I should have just laid my soul bare to you and been done with it.”

“Which start?” Emmie asked. “Do you mean ten years ago or…?”

“God no, not then!” he shuddered. “I was a vicious brat back then. You were far better off without me. No, I mean three months ago. When I found you again.”

“You were not a vicious brat!”

“Yes, I was, Emmeline,” he said sincerely. “It took me years to start to straighten out and get some basic decency. God, I shudder to think of myself at twenty-one. I shouldn’t have been allowed in polite company.”

She tutted. “You make yourself sound worse than Count Stefano.”

“Because I was,” he said. “Stefano is a villain of the moustache-twirling variety, whereas I…I was the nasty everyday variety. Less glamorous and a good deal more detestable.”

“I would not say less glamorous,” Emmie objected, “you were both glamorous and detestable.”

He did not smile. “Emmeline, do you think—?”

She waited. “You could ever forgive me,” she supplied when he could not finish his words. He gave a short nod. “You have already asked me this question, Jeremy,” she said gently.

“You made no reply,” he pointed out. “You were too busy kissing me.”

“Does that not give you clue as to my answer?” she teased.

He reached across to take her hand and place it on his chest. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I’d still like to hear you say the words.”

“I forgive you, Jeremy Vance,” she whispered. “With my whole heart.”

He swallowed convulsively. “I’m ashamed to say it, but I was so fucking miserable at the time that I did not even fully consider your feelings. I thought you would find someone better than me within a twelvemonth. I could not believe that you could feel one tenth of what I did. I was such an arrogant prick.”

He rolled onto his back and Emmie turned to face him, wrapping an arm about him for comfort. “God forgive me,” he continued in a low voice, “I did not even realize what I felt for you was love, not at the time.” He squeezed his eyes shut as though the memory pained him. “I just knew I wanted to be around you so badly, and that the thought of never seeing you again made me feel…empty inside.”

He turned his head to meet her gaze, his hand clasping her thigh as though for comfort. “But you see, I’d always felt empty until I met you, so it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. I just didn’t know any better. Then once I did…I realized too late what it signified.”

Seeing his bleak expression, Emmie rubbed her hand over his heart in a gentle circular motion. “It’s a good thing you’ve finally explained yourself to me,” she murmured. “Because now I understand why you kept bringing up that night and causing me so much offence.”

“Offence!” he echoed. “I kept bringing it up, because to me, that kiss in the conservatory was my most treasured memory. I was trying to—to reconnect us to our past.”

She nodded. “Whereas I associated it always with what happened directly after,” she said slowly, realizing that he must always have wanted to unburden himself to her. That was why he kept raking it all up, and she had resisted so hard, unwilling to travel down such a painful path with him again.

“You tried to show me your rosewood box,” she said softly, resting her chin on his chest, “and I told you lock it back up and throw away the key. Forgive me, my love. I clung to past resentment and did not think I had it in me to absolve you.”

“The fault was not yours, but mine,” he said swiftly. “But speaking of rosewood boxes, did you realize I still have yours?”

“Yes, I did realize,” she said absently, her mind on other things.

“What are you thinking about so deeply?” Jeremy asked with a frown. He caught her hand in his and intertwined their fingers.

“Oh, I was just reasoning things through.”

“What things?”

“Well, just how every time I disappointed you, you backed off and became so, well, polite and distant.”

“You never disappointed me,” he said quickly. “I turned polite because I feared I had upset you beyond all reason.” He hesitated. “That last time we were in here together,” he said, glancing about his room. “God, I’ll never forget how much you cried. It haunts me still.”

“Yes, I know. I shocked you badly. I thought you already knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That you had broken my heart all those years ago.”

A flash of pain showed in his eyes. “I knew I had disappointed you, but I had no idea,” he admitted. “I thought— To be honest, over the years I thought you must have been far better off without me. I made such a failure of my life. The drinking, the terrible marriage…everything. I tried to think of you as a perfect memory, preserved forever in that time, because when I imagined you living a life of happy contentment without me…”

“Then what?” She lifted her head to look at him.

“Then I grew maudlin, bitter, and jealous,” he admitted guiltily. “Over the years, I tried to push you out of my thoughts altogether. The last thing I wanted to know was that you were blissfully married to some solid man of business and a happy mother of five children.” He gave her an uneasy glance. “I’m unspeakably selfish like that.”

“I see,” she murmured.

“And then I found out that life had treated you so unfairly, Ballentine. And instead of being appalled by the hand you had been dealt, I was gleeful. ” The arm about her waist tightened perceptibly. “Because that meant I still had a chance to get you up the aisle. If Stockton had not confessed all to you that morning, I still would have found some way of outing him from your affections.”

“How precisely?” Emmie did not really know why she was encouraging him so, but perhaps it would be best for him to fully unburden himself. Also, it was strangely fascinating to hear the inner workings of his head.

“Well, I would have set a private investigator on him, for one thing, to uncover some dirt or other. There had to be an underlying reason for that ridiculously long engagement. The truth would have come out and I would have seen him disgraced and maneuvered you into marrying me.”

“Hmmm.”

“If not that, it would have been by some other means, fair or foul. I knew I had to make you mine. It felt like fate.”

“And so, we were married,” Emmie murmured. “But we still weren’t being terribly honest with one another.”

“Except in the bedroom,” Jeremy interjected.

“Yes, in the beginning, the gloves always came off in the bedchamber. It was when you started being so apologetic there that you really worried me.”

He looked alarmed. “I hope I was never aggressive with you!”

“Aggressive?” Emmie was startled. “That was not my meaning. I meant kid gloves, not boxing gloves.”

“Oh.” He looked relieved.

“Sorry, I did not mean—”

“No, no, I take your meaning now. At least… Are you saying, Emmeline, that you do not want me to be overly polite in the bedroom?”

“Yes,” she agreed at once.

Jeremy looked stunned for a moment, then he laughed. “Ah, Ballentine,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I think I can safely promise never to be too polite in that arena again.”

“Just promise me you won’t apologize again afterward, that’s all, as though you regretted anything we had done.”

He sobered at once, tightening his arms about her. “I never regretted a thing. I was just scared you did not want me, as I wanted you. Besides, I have not apologized once since you played the bathing goddess for me, have I?”

“Yes, you did. After that time on the breakfast table,” she reminded him.

He looked surprised. “That was different! I apologized because I went too far with you that morning. You could have burned your nose on the coffeepot, and I likely would not even have noticed!”

“Yes, you would, for I would soon have let you know,” Emmie contradicted him. “It’s nice when you’re worshipful,” she said, coloring hotly, “but it’s also nice sometimes when you are not.”

He drew back. “Really?” he asked cautiously, a faint gleam in his eye. She nodded. “And you promise you would tell me if I ever did anything you were not comfortable with?”

“Yes, I would. I told you quite plainly I did not like you talking of the Hawfords’ ball, did I not? And that was long before we had cleared up any of our misunderstandings.”

“You did, but I did not really listen,” he said ruefully.

“Well, no, but that was not a matter of physical comfort, but emotional.”

“I still need to improve drastically in such matters, and I will,” he promised, pressing her hand to his lips. “I never want to let you down again.”

She smiled at him. “I wish—” She broke off her words, shaking her head. “No, it’s silly, really.”

“What is?”

“It’s just, I wish you could have come to me all those years ago and told me how you really felt. I spent so many years thinking what I felt for you wasn’t reciprocated. That I had made a complete fool of myself over you. But if I had known that you—that you loved me back—”

“So we could both be desperately unhappy, instead of just me?”

“We were both unhappy, you stupid man! Besides, if you had only done that, then we could have faced it together.”

“Emmeline,” he groaned, shaking his head, “there was nothing we could have done, my love. I was promised to another and—”

“Yes, there was,” she insisted.

“My father would never have permitted—”

“But my father was rich in those days,” she interrupted him. “He would have given us money, and what would it have mattered if your father had cut you off. The estate and the title were entailed and would have come to you eventually. You could have lived with us at Porchester Square and been like Atherton.”

“Like Atherton?”

“Titled and connected but possessing no fortune.”

A smile tugged at Jeremy’s lips. “Your father would have thought me a useless fop.”

“He would have loved your title though,” she pointed out practically.

Jeremy smiled. “I did not even possess that in those days.”

“You had the promise of it, however. He would have loved to think he had bought a title.”

He reached for her hand, drawing her closer. “Would you really have married me, if I was disowned and dispossessed?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes,” she answered promptly. “I’ve always been an absolute fool where you are concerned, Jeremy Vance. Though…”

“What?”

“You’re right, of course,” she said regretfully. “Practically speaking, my father’s fortune could not have maintained this place for many years. If your father had left his money elsewhere, realistically you would have to have sold Vance Park as soon as you inherited it.”

“Don’t let’s be realistic,” he said swiftly. “Instead, tell me some more about how you would have supported your penniless young husband.”

It was Emmeline’s turn to smile. “I would have doted on you,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I would have spoiled you and hung off your every word.”

“You could still do that,” he said quickly, “if the inclination took you.”

“And of course, I never would have even considered Humphrey.”

“How can you even think of mentioning him right now?” he said, sounding annoyed.

“It would have been a terrible scandal, wouldn’t it?” she whispered, laying a hand against his cheek.

“If we had eloped?” he asked, his expression of irritation fading.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “But then, we were already acquainted with scandal, you and I.” His smile faded and he said suddenly with feeling, “I wish to God I’d had the guts to do it.”

“To elope? So do I.” Her eyes turned dreamy, and he rolled her onto her back, lowering his face to hers.

“Except,” she said suddenly, putting a finger to his lips. He drew back to look at her. “We would not have Teddy. So, we can’t really regret that we did not marry young, can we?”

He blinked. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”

“What you probably should have done,” Emmeline continued musingly, “was approach me with that indecent proposal of yours. I, well, I probably would have not been able to resist you,” she admitted shamefacedly.

“Emmeline!” he said in a raspy voice.

“Well, you already know you had only to crook a finger at me, and I would follow you,” she said guiltily. “I had no dignity at all where you were concerned, as evidenced by that conservatory incident.”

“ Emmeline ,” he groaned, tightening his grip about her. “Don’t tell me that, for lord’s sake. I’ll be crooking my finger at you all hours of the day.” She laughed.

“I thought about making you my mistress a disgusting amount,” he confessed rawly. “I even told Atherton I wanted to approach your father about it at the time.”

Her mouth fell open. “Did you really?”

“Yes, so you see, I really was an absolute bastard with no scruples and precious few morals left to me.”

“But you did not approach him,” she pointed out gently as she tried to imagine how her father would have reacted. He would have been flabbergasted, she thought and almost burst out laughing.

“Only because I knew he would never agree to it. I looked into his reputation and realized such a thing would not fly with him, more’s the pity.”

“You could likely have convinced me though,” she pointed out, “and seduced me away from my father’s protection.”

He looked torn, propping his head on his hand. “I wanted to, believe me, but I wanted better for you always, Emmeline. You deserved better than being some man’s kept woman, even if that man was me. Though, if I had known you would turn around and get engaged to a married man—” he started wrathfully.

“Yes, that was stupid of me.”

“It was not remotely stupid,” he said, abruptly changing his tune. “You were horribly deceived.”

“And my heart was broken, so I did not really care who I married. I just did what my father asked of me.”

“As did I,” Jeremy concurred. “So, neither of us was really at fault for our first disastrous attempts toward the altar. Our second attempt, however, is a resounding success.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I do.”

She tipped her head to one side in consideration. “Do you know, if you had approached my father, he would have been quite dumbfounded. He thought me utterly lacking in appeal and frequently lamented the fact I took after his side of the family and not my mother’s. His people were all very solid and stocky. It was a great disappointment to him that I was not a slender beauty.”

“He must have been a fool,” Jeremy said dismissively. “You are a beauty and not everyone favors the slender kind. No wonder he blundered so badly over Stockton. He had a huge blind spot where you were concerned.”

Emmie forced a smile. She should not have raised her father as a subject. It always made her feel a little sad.

Jeremy slid an arm about her shoulders. “You know when I was young, my father would always tell me that his bastard was worth two of me. He blamed my mother, of course. It’s in the breeding he would say. I favored my damme and not my sire. Then, when I grew older, he was forced to concede that my temperament was nothing like my mother’s. As you know, I was very wild. I was expelled from Eton, got sent down from Oxford, and blotted my copy book in every way known to privileged youth.”

“And that did not please him either?” she guessed, touched that he was sharing this with her.

He snorted. “I think it did in a way. He could do nothing with me, which infuriated him, but apparently, he would brag of my excesses among his cronies. Said I might take after my mother in looks but I was full to the brim with vices. A family trait apparently.”

“Aren’t fathers funny?” Emmie sighed. “Do you think we would have turned out differently if our mothers had been around?”

Jeremy considered this a moment before replying shamefacedly, “Truth to tell, I do not think mine would have wielded much influence over me. Everything I have since learned from Mina leads me to believe her entreaties would have fallen on deaf ears and I would not have heeded her one bit.”

“I expect you would have been charming to her though,” she responded loyally.

“Oh, I am sure. Mina says she would have doted on me and hung on my every word. I expect I would have been her darling boy who could do no wrong. If anything, she would likely have influenced me for the worst!” Emmie laughed. She could not help it. He grinned. “I expect she would have been an awful mother-in-law to you as well. Always aiding and abetting me and encouraging my worst excesses.”

“Very likely! Rather like old Mrs. Rumstead,” she said, thinking of a terrible old woman she had met in one of his farmers’ cottages, wielding her malign influence over three daughters-in-law, and spoiling her youngest son.

Jeremy rolled over her. “Let us not discuss my tenants at this juncture.”

“Oh? What would you rather discuss?”

“What kind of mistress you would have made me,” he said, robbing Emmie of all breath.

“What do you think?” she asked breathlessly.

“A fantastic one,” he said thickly, and she decided to prove his theory right.