32

They did not emerge for supper. Instead, Jeremy had their meal sent up to their private dining room. “We won’t send for Teddy tonight,” he decided. “He can take supper in his nursery and fully reflect on his sins.”

“You know, the fact he’s getting up to all sorts must be a good sign, as far as his recovering health is concerned,” Emmie reflected, drawing on her frothy wrapper.

“True. He’ll definitely be ready for school in September, I know that much.”

“He still seems rather young to me, to send away to boarding school,” Emmie said.

“To be honest, he was fine at Paverton Hall last time. It was me that missed him so much I jumped on the first excuse to recall him.”

Emmie fastened the last button and turned around to face him. “Is my hair a mess?”

“It is a veritable riot of curls. I rather like it.”

“I expect I look more Medusa than Aphrodite.”

He laughed and they walked through, hand in hand, to find the first course already waiting for them, and Higgins disappearing discreetly back through the door.

“I hope no one noticed that I did not touch a morsel of that breakfast the other morning,” Emmie said, sinking down onto a cushion.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked innocently. “You definitely touched the bread rolls. I had to wipe the crumbs off your front.”

She pulled a face at him, and he laughed. “I think you should sit in my lap again this evening.”

“No thank you,” she responded briskly. “I want to actually eat something this time.” He smirked. Removing the covers, she found Mrs. Oxley had prepared them a light consommé served with bread. Spooning herself some, and then passing it to Jeremy, she helped herself to some bread and glanced across at him. “Are you really building a conservatory here at Vance?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, spooning some into his own bowl. “The most extravagant conservatory in all Cornwall.”

“You kept that very quiet.”

“Yes, for having commissioned it, it suddenly occurred to me that you might find it in somewhat poor taste.”

She snorted. “It can’t be in any worse taste than your own private amphitheater!”

“That’s entirely your fault, Lady Faris,” he said, pointing at her with his spoon. “You were the one who persuaded me to that particular piece of nonsense.”

“True,” she conceded, taking a bite of bread. As she chewed it, she wondered how things were going along downstairs. “Mr. Wimble, poor man, will be relieved that he doesn’t have to dodge my conversation in future, now I know what he is truly working on. I wondered why he always looked so frightened of me.”

“Beautiful women intimidate him,” Jeremy responded at once.

“I fancy Lottie might be spreading the word below that you punched an ex-admirer of mine from London today.”

“More than likely, I’d say. Let tongues wag. I never really cared about causing scenes.” He shrugged. “Who knows, it might even improve my reputation. Nye certainly seemed to like me all the better for it.”

“Do you think it will?” she mused. “Improve your reputation, I mean? All this work I am doing trying to get on the right committees and all that was really needed was for you to kick up a dust in an inn!” To her surprise, he did not laugh at this, but propped himself up on one elbow looking very serious.

“Which brings me to another confession,” he said ruefully, reaching for her hand across the table. “The truth is, Ballentine, that everything I told you about my motivation for marrying you was a massive lie. Not like that!” he said swiftly, seeing the fear rise up in her expression. “I wanted to marry you very badly, you know I did,” he said with conviction.

“What I mean is that I never cared a damn about you joining the local board of ladies for education or building bridges with my neighbors or any of that other stuff I spouted. I didn’t care about you being a picture of respectability or even a good mother at the end of the day,” he confessed. “Though it is a happy circumstance you turned out to be one, of course.”

She looked completely at sea. “Then why did you say—?”

“You were quite right that day in Hutton’s tea shop,” he carried on. “It never made any sense that I should think you the ideal candidate to reform my image. Your own brush with society was hardly exemplary.” He gave a wan smile. “You practically let me seduce you in full view of fashionable London, now, didn’t you, my darling?”

Emmie drew in a sharp breath. Before she could object, he said, “You could spill drunkenly out of carriages twice a week, lose your diamonds, waltz with whomever you like, and gamble away my entire fortune and I still would not want to divorce you.”

She stared at him. “Jeremy—”

“Do you want to know something truly shocking, Ballentine? You could do practically anything and I would let you get away with it.”

She thought about this for a moment. “Practically?”

“No lovers,” he said. “I could not stomach that.”

“You would divorce me?”

“No,” he said quickly. “But they would end up buried in shallow graves under the terrace.”

“Jeremy!”

“I know. Very shocking, but it happens to be the truth.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I see.”

“What do you see?”

“That you mean to be a very tolerant husband. You almost make me feel quite guilty that I cannot return the sentiment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, just lately it has dawned on me that I have something of a jealous streak. It came as quite a shock to me.”

“Jealous? Of me?” He sounded more pleased by the notion than anything.

Emmie nodded. “Yes, for all the ladies hereabouts keep dropping hints about your popularity with the fairer sex. It has become quite wearing.”

“Who has?”

“Mrs. Ryland, for one,” she said, “intimated that everyone was expecting you to become engaged to Blanche Pebmarsh as soon as your divorce became official.”

“Blanche Pebmarsh?” he exclaimed incredulously. “What nonsense. Blanche Pebmarsh never talks about anything but riding to hounds. She’s quite obsessed with hunting and fishing. I’ve never been remotely attracted to her or her to me. Her future husband is undoubtedly in the mold of a sporting parson. I’m quite shocked at the vicar’s wife and I’m sure no one else can have said anything so ridiculous.”

“Then you would be wrong,” Emmie said sternly. “Mrs. Needham is another who made several such remarks.”

“Well, you and Teddy between you have convinced me that Mrs. Needham is a ghastly woman masquerading as a persecuted mama. We will avoid her in future.”

“And you must do your best to lay such rumors to rest,” Emmie announced.

“Oh, I don’t think I will have to make much of an effort in that respect,” he said, turning to face her. “Anyone with eyes in their head will soon notice that I am entirely infatuated with my own wife.”

“Even though every requirement you gave me was completely misleading?” She narrowed her eyes at him, pretending to be annoyed.

“Emmeline, I had to give you some motivation to marry me. And besides, you turned out to be so good at all those things.”

“What about London?” she asked. “Did you mean what you said about that?”

“No, that was a lie too.”

“What?” she squeaked in dismay.

“I mean, I don’t care about London society particularly, but we do own a rather nice town house there, and the odd sojourn to the flesh pots might be rather enjoyable, with you by my side.”

Emmie eyed him doubtfully. “You mean restaurants and theaters, and such things?”

“Precisely, and we could choose to socialize with people there that we like.”

“Such as the Hardimans?”

“Such as the Hardimans,” he agreed readily. “I’d like to squire you about a bit and flaunt you, why not?”

“That does sound rather nice,” she agreed hesitantly. “And I suppose, when Teddy is older, we will need to throw a few parties, just to ensure he is introduced to some nice circles and is not ostracized.”

“Neither he nor we will ever be ostracized, Ballentine. We would only have to show the faintest interest in reentering polite society, and we would be inundated with invitations. However, until you are ready, we will confine ourselves here to Cornwall. There are plenty of picnics and boat trips and days on the beach to be had.”

Emmie’s face suddenly fell as she remembered something. “What is it?” he asked, lowering his spoon.

“It’s that meeting here at Vance tomorrow, of the Good Works committee, and I quite forgot!”

Jeremy laughed. “Cancel it,” he advised callously.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. Poor Mrs. Ryland would be so embarrassed after she begged the favor on my behalf.”

“Well, don’t let them put you out. It doesn’t matter a jot if you get voted onto their committee or whatever it is.”

“It’s a bit late in the day to tell me that!” she scolded him, but on the next morning, when Lady Sharpe was brought into her presence along with about fifteen other ladies all wearing very fussy outfits with lots of lace, she found she rather enjoyed playing the gracious hostess.

Lady Sharpe was a large woman, built on generous lines, she walked with a silver knobbed cane and wore a very large posy of flowers pinned to her breast. She looked Emmie up and down with shrewd eyes. “Lady Faris?” she said in some surprise, casting a withering look to the ladies standing on either side of her.

Emmeline extended her hand. “Welcome to Vance. I am most happy to make your acquaintance, Lady Sharpe.”

“Well, well, pretty creature, aren’t you?” she remarked in that blunt manner that only a very privileged few can get away with. “You quite put me in mind of someone I once knew a long time ago.” Her eyes glazed over. “Now, who was it?” she murmured. “Adelaide…or was it Amabel Richlow. Any relation?” she asked in a rich, plummy accent.

“I’m afraid not. My parents originated from the Yorkshire region.”

“Mm, I suppose not, then. Somerset!” she exclaimed suddenly, striking her walking stick against the floor for emphasis. “That was where her people hailed from. There now! I knew I would remember. Oh, she was a great beauty in the old style. All vying for her hand they were, my brothers and my Harry included!”

Lady Sharpe’s eyes misted over. “Lord, what cakes they made of themselves over her! Had them eating out of the palm of her hand, she did! Not like these chits nowadays,” she snorted. “Prancing around with their silly notions about twenty-inch waistlines and their ridiculous hats! A man likes to have something he can catch hold of, that’s what my Harry used to say.”

“Er, yes, of course,” Emmie said blankly, casting a hurried look about the other ladies who all looked rather embarrassed and lost for words. “Shall we all proceed into the drawing room? I have had refreshments laid out there and all the chairs are arranged for us to be comfortable.”

She had just finished shaking the hands of all the other ladies present and was asking them to be seated when she heard herself hailed from out in the hall.

“Emmeline!”

Emmie turned, recognizing her husband’s voice. “If you will excuse me for just one moment, ladies,” she said apologetically, hurrying out into the hallway. “What is it?”

He swept her up into his arms and started waltzing her across the floor. “Run away with me, Ballentine,” he said whimsically.

“Where to?” She laughed, following his footwork instinctively.

“The beach?” he suggested. “We could build a hut out of driftwood and sleep under the stars.”

“Sounds very sandy. Why aren’t you at the stables with Mr. Masterman? He will think you’re shirking your responsibilities again.”

“Devil take him. I don’t care if he does.”

“Well, I care,” Emmie insisted. “You promised me that you would take me to a race meet next month and I think it would be more enjoyable if one of our horses wins that gold cup.” Jeremy threw back his head and laughed.

“What a lot of twaddle that Needham woman has been talking!” Lady Sharpe said in loud, carrying tones. “He’s clearly infatuated with the gel! I’m glad I came to see how things stood for myself! I shall certainly ask Lady Faris if we can use their south lawn for the fete. I have no doubt she can twist that man about her little finger.”

“I see she has my measure,” Jeremy remarked, twirling her about. And it was clear he did not care one bit.