EPILOGUE

Six Months Later

The Christmas Ball at Vance Park

Jeremy dismissed his valet and examined his reflection critically in the mirror. He was wearing full evening dress tonight and checked the impeccable fit of his black tailcoat and white silk waistcoat before adjusting his cravat to his satisfaction.

His cufflinks gleamed in his reflection, complementing the burnished gold of his hair. He wanted to look the part of the perfect host tonight, beside his blooming wife. Absently, he fitted the hook of his watch chain into place and slipped his watch into his pocket. Now he just needed his gloves. Hearing a discreet cough behind him, he turned. “Ah, Colfax, here you are.”

“You wanted to see me, milord.”

“Yes, Emmeline tells me congratulations are due.” If he did not know any better, he might have thought Colfax colored faintly.

“Yes, milord,” he said woodenly after a moment’s pause. “Miss Pinson has agreed to make me the happiest of men.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. I was starting to think you were making slow work of your wooing.”

Colfax’s gaze softened. “Slow is the only way with a woman like my Hannah. She deserves my taking the time to court her right.”

“Yes, I can well believe it. She’s an excellent woman and I am fortunate to call her my friend. Who would have thought it, eh? Both of us respectably leg-shackled and living lives of blameless virtue. I never would have dreamed of such a thing back in our days in St. James’s Square,” he said, referring to his bachelor quarters.

Colfax cleared his throat, a twinkle lurking in his eye. “No indeed, milord.”

“Which brings me to my next point. I want you to cast off your footman’s livery and start training with Garraway in the New Year.”

“Garraway, milord?” Colfax, for once, seemed quite taken aback.

“Yes, for the old man’s looking to retire in a twelvemonth and move into the cottage I promised him. He’s a widowed sister who’s coming to keep house for him. They mean to deal quite comfortably together, so you see I have need of a new butler here at Vance.”

“But—” He paused before resuming. “Milord, I’m not—”

“Not what?” Jeremy’s eyebrows rose. “Butler material? I assure you that you are. The biggest snob I ever met was butler to a duke. He made his master look like an ant by way of comparison.”

“But what would Mr. Garraway say?” Colfax wondered aloud. “I know he don’t—doesn’t—think that much of me and that’s the truth.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I discussed the eventuality with Garraway first over two years ago, so he’ll be quite resigned to the fact by now. He said they go in fear of you in the servants’ hall and that you’re a hard man to know. Both are facts which will stand you in good stead as a butler. I think you’ll find he has already been training you surreptitiously as his successor for a good while now.”

“Well…” Colfax hesitated. “He does like to stick his oar into whatever I’m about, but I never dreamed that’s what he was doing.”

“He’s quite the institution, is old Garraway. I shall miss him, but he won’t be going far. His place will only be a stone’s throw from Plumtree Cottage, so I’m sure he’ll be turning up on your doorstep with homemade wine and demands to know what’s to do up at Vance on a regular basis.”

Colfax scratched the back of his neck. “Me? Butler, here?” he said in dazed tones. “Are you sure, milord?”

“I can think of no one else better for the role.” He proffered his hand and Colfax shook it warmly.

“Thank you, milord. And if I might make so bold as to offer you my congratulations by way of return…”

Jeremy grinned. “Was it Hannah told you or Teddy? He’s spilling over with the news. I’ll be lucky if he does not tell every guest in the house.”

Without waiting for Colfax’s reply, he made for the connecting door and tapped lightly upon it, trying the doorknob.

*

“Are you ready for me within?”

Emmie jumped up excitedly from her seat. “Wait! I’ll let you in.” She felt a bundle of nerves to reveal her new quarters to him. Opening the door, she cleared her throat. “Prepare to be amazed,” she announced, stepping back so Jeremy could see her sumptuous apartments in all their glory.

Instead of taking in the splendor of her newly decorated room, he followed in her footsteps, catching her hands and holding them out to her sides to take in the effect of her new evening gown. “Ravishing,” he breathed, drawing her into his arms and sealing his lips to hers. “Madame de Flores has outdone herself.”

“Do you like it? It is rather gorgeous, is it not?” Emmie smoothed her sumptuous skirts of richest red velvet. “And you don’t think I’m showing too much?” She turned anxiously to the side, so he could see the full effect of her silhouette sideways on. “The gown had to be altered slightly to accommodate my growing waistline.”

“You look truly magnificent.” He reached out to touch her hair, which had been arranged into bunches of long ringlets, decorated with her diamond pins. “You look radiant, Ballentine. I can’t wait to walk downstairs with you on my arm for everyone to see you.”

She smiled back at him. “Well, you look splendid too,” she said, shyly approving. “But then you always do. What do you think of my new rooms, by the way?” She made an extravagant arm gesture to indicate their surroundings.

Jeremy’s gaze left her figure only with the greatest of reluctance. His eyes traveled over the Roman-style plaster columns, the pink marbled effect on the walls, the plump red and gold chaise longue, the large oval mirror, flanked by romping golden cupids.

A slow smile spread over his face as his eyes took in the mantelpiece covered in delicately jeweled and painted seashells and the large painting of the scalloped shell behind her bed. “It’s incredible!” he said, turning in a circle to take it all in. “I love it.”

“I’m not too sure about all of Mr. Penrose’s details, but I do think he made a good job of it,” she agreed.

“What aren’t you sure about?”

“Well, this extraordinary chair for one thing,” she said, walking over to stand before her dressing table. “Look at it.” The accompanying stool had the appearance of a round stone plinth. “I’m not sure it’s as comfortable as the old one was.”

“You could always put one of these pink cushions from the bed on it,” he suggested, “if it is not comfortable for your posterior.”

“Perhaps it is not intended for me to sit upon?” Emmie said doubtfully.

“No, it certainly is.”

“How do you know?”

“Read the inscription.”

She bent down. It was labeled as though for a museum exhibit. “‘The Fairest,’” she read before standing up with a red face. “I think Mr. Penrose must be having his little joke,” she said, pursing her lips.

“Not at all, I think he understood his assignment admirably.”

“What do you mean?”

“This bedchamber is clearly the bower of Aphrodite, goddess of love. Yet do you see the goddess represented herein?”

Emmie scanned the room fruitlessly. She could see doves, cupids, Grecian urns filled with hundreds of pink roses, an elegant statue of a winged Eros with long curling hair, a bow, and an arrow. She even spotted a golden apple labeled The Apple of Discord , set into a recessed niche, but she could not see a single solitary Venus.

“I thought he would paint one in the scallop shell,” she said, glancing toward the huge pink shell painted so artistically above the head of the bed. “Like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus , but he left it empty.”

“He did not leave it empty, Emmeline . The shell frames my own personal goddess of love who will be sleeping beneath it. You .”

Emmie’s mouth fell open. “ Me ? But…but I assure you, I did not instruct him to depict me as Venus!” she huffed as soon as she got her breath back. “Such an idea would be absurd!”

“I think it is charming. It is precisely what I would have asked for, had I the nerve.” He hesitated. “If you let it stand as it is, I will let that wretched boy have the folly decked out as he sees fit.”

Emmie gasped. “Really?” Wimble’s and Penrose’s efforts had been concentrated thus far on finishing the new conservatory and the decoration of her rooms in time for Christmas. The renovation of the folly and building of the amphitheater were scheduled for the New Year, and remained a source of great contention between father and son.

While Jeremy had given up on the judgment of Paris, he had taken up the classical Muses, which he thought would work almost as well, while Teddy insisted that classical heroes would be a much superior theme.

“With a mural of heroes? And the twelve labors of Heracles?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Whatever he wants.”

She returned to his side and wrapped her arms about his waist. “You truly are the most wonderful husband and father in the world, you know.”

“Yes, I am aware.” He grinned.

They kissed again. “Virtue is your reward,” she told him demurely.

“ You are my reward, Ballentine,” he corrected her.

Smiling at him beatifically, she left the shelter of his arms to drift back over to her dressing table. Jeremy flung himself down on her new pink satin bedcovers.

“I wish we had a bit longer before our guests arrive,” he grumbled. “I did not even get to watch you make ready. I don’t know why you insisted we had to get dressed so early!”

“Because there is so much to do ,” she explained patiently. “Half the guests are already here, as our house guests! Poor Mrs. Cheviot is run quite ragged making everything perfect for them. She’s been in quite a spin since your aunt Louisa and her husband, the Member of Parliament, got here. And then, when the Tiptons arrived…” She gave him a significant look.

“Well, that was all your idea. I take no responsibility for that decision.” It had taken some persuading for Jeremy to agree to invite his former in-laws to Vance.

“They are Teddy’s grandparents after all, and they have been perfect lambs so far. Ever since Lady Sharpe told me how much Lady Tipton regretted the rift, I knew we had to make some gesture, and they were so keen to accept. It would be such a shame if Teddy was to lose all contact with that side of his family, and it is not as though I have brought him any cousins,” she said regretfully.

“You brought Hannah Pinson into his life,” Jeremy pointed out.

“Yes, that is true.” The thought cheered her, and she flashed him a grateful smile.

“And you will give him a little brother or sister next year. And if you think Mrs. Cheviot has not been enjoying herself immensely airing out all the guest rooms and ordering in a mountain of delicacies, then you are quite wrong. All the staff are reveling in it. I never dared hold a full-scale house party here at Vance before. Too much like hard work. They’ve loved having the best silver service and the best china back out after all this time.”

“Well, you have been the perfect host so far,” Emmie assured him. “Mr. and Mrs. Hardiman were singing your praises to me this morning after breakfast. They think the dissolute viscount they heard dark whispers about must have been some other man entirely.”

“Oh, he was,” Jeremy agreed affably. “He no longer exists. Just this paragon of rectitude who stands before you.”

“I don’t know about that…” she teased, reaching for her bottle of French perfume. Removing the glass stopper, she ran it over her wrists. “I was hoping for a glimpse of him before the evening’s out.”

“Really? To what end?” he asked with a flicker of interest.

She replaced the stopper. “I want us to sneak down together. Before our guests arrive. The ones who aren’t staying here, I mean. The others will all still be in their rooms getting ready for at least another half an hour.”

“And what will we be doing downstairs?” he persisted, a pucker between his brows.

“Well…” Emmie took a deep breath. “I want you to take my hand, like you did at the Hawfords’ ball.” His head shot up, but he did not speak, just stared at her. “And then,” she continued steadily, only the faintest tremor to her voice, “I want you to say ‘How about I give you something to remember me by, Ballentine?’ and—and take me into the new conservatory.”

He was up and off the bed in an instant. “Emmeline—” he began in a shocked voice.

“No, Jeremy,” she said, holding up one hand to forestall him. “You said we would have this ball exactly how I wanted, and this is what I want.”

He looked conflicted. “This is not quite how I envisaged us unveiling the new conservatory, my darling.”

“Isn’t it? But it’s how I imagined it,” she admitted.

“I was not nice to you that night, Ballentine,” he said in a strangled voice.

“You were not nice to yourself either,” she replied quietly.

He huffed. “You’re saying you want me to take you into the conservatory, shove you against the wall, and kiss you so hard I bruise your lips?” he asked disbelievingly.

“Yes, please.” Her answer seemed to confound him. “I think you would like it too,” she added firmly. “I think it would, well, be like lancing a boil.”

“Lancing a boil?” he repeated with horror.

“I think we should have done it months ago,” she said earnestly. “Only we did not have a conservatory then. I suppose we could have used Hudgins’s glasshouse but I did not want to upset the old dear. He was so wounded over the failure of that pineapple he tried to grow.”

“Emmeline, are we doing this now? Because if so, time is of the essence,” he said, consulting his pocket watch.

“I just need to put on my evening gloves and I’m ready.”

“Well, then I just need to fetch something.” He held up a finger. “One moment.” To Emmie’s surprise he headed back through the connecting door, into his own room. When he reappeared he held a slim cardboard box in his hand, tied up with ribbon. “Here,” he said a trifle awkwardly, coming right up to her and handing it to her.

“It’s not jewelry, is it?” Emmie asked with trepidation. “Because it’s not Christmas yet and—”

“It’s not jewelry.” He was watching her with an oddly expectant air.

Emmie undid the ribbon and removed the lid to find an expensive-looking fan. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said, lifting it out of the box. “I love the detail—” Her words died on her lips. “But this…this is…”

“Your fan,” he said simply. “The one you broke that night.”

“At the Hawfords’ ball,” she whispered.

“Yes, I had it mended.” When she could not speak, he started, almost awkwardly, “I hope you don’t mind—”

She hugged him fiercely and after a moment, Jeremy’s arms encircled her back. “You mended everything !” she sobbed.

“Emmeline…” They stayed as they were for a good long moment before Jeremy kissed her brow. “We’d better hurry if I’m to kiss the hell out of you in our conservatory.”

She gave a watery laugh. “Yes, let’s hurry. Now I have my fan, where’s my gloves?”

“You’re not using that fan tonight, are you?” he asked with surprise.

“How could I not?”

“White satin? With red velvet?”

“My gloves are white,” she pointed out. “And I could not possibly use another fan, so do not ask me to.”

He laughed. “If Lady Sharpe raises her eyebrows at you, so be it.”

“Lady Sharpe would never. She’s my staunchest supporter. Since that summer fund raiser I can do no wrong in her eyes.”

“Come along, then, Lady Faris.” He offered her his arm.

She took it. Together they swept out of the room.

*

The Christmas festivities were in full swing. Emmie cast a quick, assessing look about the drawing room, where everything seemed to be going swimmingly. The Nyes were talking with the Tavistocks, though by Mina’s frequent glances toward the door, she guessed her sister-in-law was itching to slip away to select another novel from the library.

Mina had not only joined their book club but had outstripped them all when it came to burning through their collection of novels. It had brought the two of them a good deal closer, much to Jeremy’s evident satisfaction.

The vicar and his wife were conversing with the Hardimans, who were starting to relax in their new surroundings. Teddy was helping Pinky to a glass of fruit punch, while Jeremy was speaking to the string quartet set up in the far corner and currently taking a break from their performance.

The evergreens were glistening with berries and chandeliers were glittering with lights. In short, everything looked pretty as a picture. Swiftly crossing through the hall, where she discovered Squire Pebmarsh and Mr. Penrose paying elaborate court to Lady Sharpe and the rest of the Good Works committee, she swept into the blue sitting room and found Mr. Wimble deep in conversation with Miss Delia Pebmarsh.

This was surprising, but even more so, was where Miss Blanche Pebmarsh had disappeared to with Edgar Needham. That gentleman had squired his much maligned sister, Miss Halperston, to the party this evening, but had then been whisked away by Blanche as the most eligible bachelor present, and Caroline now stood awkwardly alone, nursing a glass of lemonade.

“Who is that dyspeptic-looking young woman stood next to the potted fern?” asked Lord Atherton’s voice at Emmie’s ear. She turned, and he presented her with a glass of champagne.

“Thank you,” she said, setting it down. “Good evening, Lord Atherton. I did not know you had arrived yet! That is Miss Caroline Halperston, and it is not dyspepsia that afflicts her, but rather a certain social awkwardness. It is too bad of her brother to abandon her like that! I suspect Blanche has dragged him into the music room, which I really meant to have remained out of bounds tonight.”

“Then you ought to have locked it. Guests never have any respect for unlocked doors these days,” he lamented. “Tell me, has she any money?”

“Money? Not that I am aware of.”

He tutted. “A pity.”

“Are you fortune hunting?” she asked him suspiciously. “If so, the Pebmarsh girls are a much better bet.”

“They are hardly girls, my dear Lady Faris.” Lord Atherton grimaced, taking a swig of champagne. “And they are both so disgustingly hearty. I can’t stand hearty women.” He shuddered eloquently.

“What time did you get here?” Emmie asked, “I did not hear you announced.”

“Oh, I’ve only just arrived,” he said comfortably. “Slipped up the backstairs and found my usual room awaiting me, bless Mrs. Cheviot’s little heart. I changed my suit and had a little toddle around the dear old place, whilst having a smoke.”

“And you’ve not seen Jeremy yet?” she asked, threading her arm through his. “I’d better take you to him at once.”

“No hurry. I wanted to speak to you first in any case.”

“Did you?” She was strangely flattered. “I was so sorry you did not come and stay with us in the summer. We expected you but you never came.”

He smiled. “I thought I should leave it at least six months before I turned up here at Vance. That way I could skip those insufferable stages while you two were tying yourselves up in knots and suffering needless agonies on the altar of love. There is nothing quite so tedious as a pair of frustrated lovers.” He gave her a sidelong look. “How long did it take you, by the way?”

“How long did what take me?”

“To winkle the truth out of him. I knew it wouldn’t take you too long. Not after I gave you all those helpful hints at the wedding.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And by that you mean, how long did it take for me to uncover his undying love for me?”

“Precisely,” he said with satisfaction. “I always knew you had a decent head on your shoulders, despite that starry-eyed gaze of yours.”

“It took me rather longer than it should have,” she admitted honestly. He looked amused. “But it was more like three months in the end than six.”

“Oh, bravo.” He gave her a little round of applause.

“You are quite disgraceful, Lord Atherton,” she scolded without heat. “Just as bad as you always were.”

“Oh, I shall never change,” he said smugly. “I’m a thoroughly bad lot and very comfortable in my wicked ways. By the way, why is your head footman glaring at me?”

“I have no idea. Have you greeted Pinky yet?”

“Effusively.”

“That would be why, then,” she answered. “He’s very protective over her these days.”

“Hmmm. Are you sure his designs in that direction are entirely respectable? He was quite the lad back in the day, was Colfax.”

“Back in the day when he was preventing Jeremy from getting dunned on his doorstep and killed in duels every other week?” Emmie asked with an arched brow. “Yes, I have heard all about it. Jeremy has laid bare both his soul and his jaded past to me.”

“Ugh,” said Atherton. “You have my profound sympathies.”

“And yes, I am quite sure about Pinky and Colfax. They’re walking out together. Courting,” she added in case he was unfamiliar with the term.

His stride checked slightly. “Really? Strapping Colfax and demure Miss Pinson?”

“Yes.”

“Good lord.”

“Jeremy means to make him butler here when Garraway retires so his prospects are quite good.”

Atherton looked amused. “Well, Jeremy certainly could not get rid of Colfax. He knows where all the skeletons are buried.”

“Yes. Probably because he helped bury them,” Emmie agreed.

Atherton smirked. “I am surprised to see your husband’s collection of Venuses has not increased since last I visited.” Emmie thought fleetingly of her new bedroom decor but said nothing. “But perhaps, having secured the source of his fascination, his compulsion to amass such imitations has abated.”

Her ears pricked up at this. “Do you mean to suggest his fondness for Venuses originated with me?” she asked with surprise.

“Didn’t you know?”

“No!”

“He purchased his first in Italy, on his honeymoon. The one in your drawing room, where she emerges from the sea to wring out her wet hair.”

Emmie was speechless. After a moment she rallied. “They do not look so very much like me, you know.”

“My dear Lady Faris, I have two eyes in my head,” he countered.

“Well, in any case…” She trailed off feebly as they came to a halt next to the portrait of Jeremy’s mother.

Atherton looked over the portrait in silence. “I’m glad he did not fall for a similar type as his mother at any rate.”

Emmie glanced up at the portrait. “She was very pretty.”

“Always thought she looked a bit of a simperer myself,” Atherton admitted, taking a swig of champagne.

They both contemplated the canvas. “Everyone agrees Jeremy is nothing like her in character. Mina, his sister, maintains that if their mother had been present during his childhood, she would likely have made Jeremy’s character even worse by spoiling and fawning on him.”

Atherton laughed. “For my part, I imagine Jeremy would have been very like Teddy as a child. You will have to keep a close eye on that boy,” he said darkly.

“Nonsense! Teddy is a delightful and well-adjusted child. As soon as he heard of our history together, he knew exactly where to apportion blame, showing an unerring sense of right and wrong.” She gave him a sidelong look. “Besides, as godparent, the responsibility of keeping a watchful eye on him falls also to you.”

Atherton shuddered dramatically. “I was assured that the purchasing of a silver tankard for the christening covered the full extent of my duty.”

“Well, you were misinformed,” Emmie told him roundly. “If there is any danger of young Teddy persecuting maidens in the future, then we shall need all the help we can get keeping him in line.”

“You think I would be helpful in reining in his excesses?” Atherton asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Certainly, I do. I have already heard several times a firsthand account of the lesson you taught him not to be careless with his personal possessions.”

Atherton looked confused for a moment, then he groaned. “Not that wretched dip pen!” he exclaimed.

“The mother-of-pearl one he took to school.”

He shook his head. “He will never forgive me for that.”

“I am sure he would,” she said kindly, “if you were to replace it, say on his next birthday.”

Atherton spread his hands wide. “Alas, I am not even sure when that is!”

“Do you know,” Emmie said thoughtfully, “that is the first thing I have heard that makes me disapprove of you in the role of godfather.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Oh, very well,” he said, sounding goaded. “I will find it out and henceforth celebrate the date with all attendant pomp.”

“Now that is a good deal more like it.”

He gave her a considering look. “I begin to see you are a woman to be reckoned with, Lady Faris.”

She smiled at him, reclaiming his arm. “I do my poor best.”

Jeremy appeared at this juncture, warmly welcomed his friend, and then bore off Emmie into the empty hallway which was now mercifully free of Good Works members. “You can hear the music from here,” he pointed out. “Let’s lurk about here for a while out of everyone’s earshot.”

“This is not very host-like of you,” she said with a smile as he took her into his arms and they started to waltz.

“It’s your fault, you put me quite out of patience with hosting after kissing me in that exciting fashion earlier.”

“I know,” she laughed, her eyes returning to the repaired fan which dangled from her wrist. A sudden frown marred her countenance.

“What is it?” he asked quickly.

“I hope Lord Atherton does not try to seduce poor Caroline Halperston.”

“I thought you said she needed some excitement in her life?”

“Well, yes, but not that kind of excitement!”

“Never mind about them. I fear Gervaise is a lost cause. Let us concentrate our efforts instead on raising Teddy as a responsible young man with proper feelings. A real Fernando.”

“Alas,” Emmie mocked, “Teddy is already a lost cause, for he is quite the biggest rogue in Penarth.” They glanced over to the drawing room, through which door they could plainly see Teddy coaxing Pinky into dancing with him in the center of the room.

He laughed. “Very well, then, imagine a daughter.”

“Whose daughter?”

“Ours.”

“You want a daughter?”

“I find I do, very much in fact.”

Emmie considered this. “I hope she would inherit your looks.”

“And I would hope she inherits yours. I already have one child in my image,” he said, glancing at Teddy, who was now leading Pinky about the floor.

“Or you might get your spare at last.”

“If it’s a boy, I will also be very pleased,” he confessed. “How about you?”

“I, too, will be happy with either. Shall we slip away to the conservatory again, husband? It looks so wonderful in there with all the glass reflecting the Christmas tree lights, and that new circular ‘borne settee’ that Mr. Penrose was so clever as to find for us.”

His smile grew. “Tempting, very tempting, Lady Faris, but I don’t know. We need to be back here at ten o’clock to stand on the staircase and make our Christmas toast together with all our guests.”

Emmie wondered if he had made a conscious decision to exorcise the very last of the bad memories of that fateful night at the Hawfords’ with such a toast, or whether it was a happy coincidence.

Suddenly, something that had been tickling at the edge of her memory unfurled. “By the way, whatever happened with Charlie Symonds?” she asked on impulse, dimly remembering some words of Lord Atherton’s from their wedding day.

Jeremy stared at her. “Who?” he asked at last, but she had a strong suspicion he was playing innocent.

“Lord Atherton told me to ask you about him,” she answered truthfully.

His expression wavered between astonishment and annoyance. “Oh, he did, did he?” he asked wrathfully.

“Not tonight, but at the wedding. I forgot all about it, until he mentioned that he had given me some helpful clues and it popped back into my head.”

“I think I need to have a quiet word with Gervaise!” Jeremy muttered under his breath.

“Whatever was it?” she prodded. “I vaguely remember a Mr. Symonds from my debut but…”

“Mr. Symonds said something once that I took exception to, at a party over a decade ago.”

“Oh?” Emmie was intrigued. “What was it?”

“He intimated that he was going to ask a certain someone to dance.”

“And?”

“That person belonged to me at that time. She still does.”

“You knocked him down?” she guessed. “For that ?”

“I did.”

“Good grief.”

“Ballentine?”

“Yes?”

“Shall I give you a little something else to remember me by?” he asked quite casually.

“Yes, please.”

Scorching her with the intensity of his gaze, he bore her off in the direction of their new conservatory.

THE END