5

Against her expectation, Emmie slept soundly that night. Really, she must have been emotionally wrung out by the events of the day, for when she awoke the next morning, she spent a few disorienting moments unsure where she even was, let alone who she was marrying.

A quiet knock on the door proved to be Pinky, who was not only up and dressed but had also apparently been down to the kitchen to fetch cans of hot water for their morning wash. “You are up far too early!” Emmie protested, still in her threadbare dressing gown. “Do not dare to stir another step downstairs for I mean to do my part.”

“Nonsense!” Pinky replied roundly. “You made our breakfast yesterday, so it is only fair that I should take over this morning. Do not delay in your wash, for your jug of water will grow cold.”

She disappeared before Emmie could press the matter, so she made for the bathroom instead. Emmie was back in her room, washed, dressed, and just pushing in her last hairpin when she heard a knock at their outer door. Pinky’s hands must be full with the breakfast tray , she thought, hurrying out into the hallway to throw it open.

To her surprise it was not her friend bearing their morning meal, but instead a large, muscular man in footman’s livery. Standing next to him was a small golden-haired boy clad in a sailor suit complete with a matching hat sat atop his curls. She looked from one to the other in lively astonishment. “Good morning,” she said on finding her tongue.

“Good morning,” replied the child, looking up at her soulfully.

“Good morning, miss,” the footman said hurriedly. “I deliver this with the compliments of Viscount Faris.”

Emmie noticed at this point that he held out a thick-looking envelope. She took it from him with thanks and could not forbear looking once more at the boy. He was a vastly pretty child with golden locks and very blue eyes.

“Am I right in thinking you are Master Edward Vance?” she guessed.

“I am. Are you Miss Emmeline Ballentine, of whom I am so curious to meet?”

“I am Miss Ballentine,” she admitted. “Though no one ever calls me Emmeline.”

“My father does,” he corrected her.

“Well, yes, yes he does,” she was forced to concede. “But I wish he would call me Emmie as my friends and particular acquaintances do.”

He seemed to consider this. “I suppose I will soon be expected to call you Mama,” he observed sagely. The footman coughed loudly. “I wish you would not step on my toe, Colfax!” the child complained loudly. Colfax, who was good-looking and fair-haired himself, turned rather red.

Seeing Florrie’s face bobbing over the banister, all agog to learn who the visitors were, Emmie took a step back. “Perhaps you would like to come inside?” she heard herself offer hesitantly.

Master Edward’s expression brightened at once. “I would like that, yes,” he agreed, evading the footman’s sudden grab, and slipping past her into their rooms.

“You little—!” the footman muttered, then cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, miss,” he said in a more respectful tone. Emmeline gestured to him to come inside and after a pause, he followed. “Lord Faris only instructed me to deliver the envelope,” he said with misgiving. “And Master Edward promised that if I let him accompany me, he would be satisfied with just a glimpse at you!” Colfax sounded aggrieved. When agitated, his accent sounded a good deal more cockneyfied. “I might have known he would play me some trick,” he said bitterly.

“Well, there is no harm done,” Emmeline placated him as she led him into the parlor, where young Master Edward was looking about him with great interest.

“Papa promised me I could meet with Miss Ballentine yesterday, and then he went back on his word,” Edward pointed out. “So, it is only fair that I should spend some time with her today.” He directed a lofty look at Colfax as he sauntered over to the window to peer out at the street view below.

Seeing the footman visibly seethe, Emmie said apologetically, “The original plan was for us all to walk together in the park. Unfortunately, I had some…some rather bad news which meant I was not up to it that day.”

Colfax frowned and moved toward the window. Edward nimbly crossed the room to stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “What is this thing?” he asked, reaching up to fiddle with the tassels on the decoration over the mantelpiece.

“It is called a mantel scarf. My friend Miss Pinson made it. She is excessively fond of lace. Do you not have any like that in your own home?”

He thought about it for a moment. “No,” he said at last. “Except maybe in our housekeeper Mrs. Cheviot’s room. She has a small fireplace like this one, and she likes to put doilies under everything,” Edward explained artlessly.

“Ah,” Emmie responded. “It sounds as though they might have similar tastes.”

“What about you?” the boy asked with interest. He leveled a serious look at her. “Do you like frilly things?” There was a faint note of disapproval in young Master Vance’s tone.

“I do,” she concurred. “I like a good many pretty and frivolous things.”

“What about kittens?”

“Adore them, don’t you?”

He ignored this, shooting a speculative look at her through his eyelashes. “What about my father?” he asked. Colfax let out a warning grumble from his throat which startled Emmie more than the boy.

She paused. “I imagine you are better placed to know his opinion of cats than I, Edward,” she responded calmly.

“I wish you would call me Teddy,” the boy said plaintively. “I am only called Edward when I am in disgrace.”

Emmie’s lips twitched; she could not help it. The child was incorrigible. “Very well, Teddy,” she said, moving toward the door, for she heard Pinky’s tread outside and the tinkle of tea things. “Ah, here you are, Hannah,” she said, quickly warning her friend, who had a nervous disposition. “We have visitors this morning.”

Pinky’s step into the room faltered. “Oh!” she exclaimed in stricken accents, freezing to the spot, her hands clutching the breakfast tray in a deathly grip. Her startled gaze flew from Colfax’s intimidating bulk to Teddy’s slight frame clad in nautical garb. She quivered and the contents of the tray started rattling.

“Allow me, miss,” the footman said smoothly and moved so swiftly that before they knew it, he had taken the tray from her hands and deposited it gracefully onto the small dining table tucked into the corner.

“Th-thank you,” Pinky stammered, though her gaze could not meet Colfax’s. “Most, er, most kind.”

“Hannah,” said Emmie bracingly, “this is young Master Vance, who is paying us a visit with Colfax this morning.” The large footman bowed. “Teddy, this is my best friend in all the world, Miss Hannah Pinson.”

Pinky could always fall back on impeccable manners and managed a graceful curtsey. Teddy stepped forward to courteously shake her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Pinson,” he said, staring up at her friend with undisguised curiosity.

Oh dear, thought Emmie. The kindest thing she could do was to draw the child’s attention away from Pinky, who was clearly a mass of nerves. At that moment, Colfax caught her eye. To her surprise, the footman was also staring hard at poor Pinky.

Emmie cleared her throat, and Colfax seemed to remember where he was, immediately averting his eyes from her stricken friend, his expression turning carefully blank.

Teddy skipped over to the table. “Is this your breakfast?” he asked, examining the tray which held two boiled eggs and two pieces of unbuttered bread.

“It is,” she answered cheerfully as Pinky’s hand fluttered to her throat. Poor Pinky looked quite mortified at the exposure of their meagre breakfast. “Will you join us for a cup of tea this morning?”

“Yes, I will,” Teddy answered with assurance. “Though I do not want an egg for I have already eaten.” Which was just as well, Emmie reflected, for she was not sure they had any spare.

“Wait till you’re asked,” Colfax growled, and Emmie realized he would recognize the signs of straitened circumstances far better than his young charge.

Teddy ignored him, pulling out the third chair and sitting himself on it with all the dignity of a young prince upon his throne. Emmie crossed to the corner cupboard, set down the envelope to read later, and took out three sets of cups and saucers.

She threw a quick questioning glance at Colfax, for the footman’s role did not seem to be that of mere attendant, but he had retreated to the window again. He looked so stiff and formal; she thought better of offering him refreshment.

“Shall I pour, Pinky?” Emmie asked gently, sliding into the chair behind the teapot.

“Pinky?” repeated Teddy, looking immediately intrigued.

“Oh, a childish form of address,” Emmie explained with some momentary embarrassment. “Hannah and I have been together since I was five years old, and I sometimes fall back on calling her that.”

“I’ll pour, dear,” Pinky said with a small smile and picked up the milk jug.

“I’m afraid we do not have any sugar this morning,” Emmie said, anticipating Pinky’s next crisis. “Though we do have a good deal of cakes. Shall I go down to the kitchen and fetch you one?”

“No thank you,” Teddy answered promptly. “I don’t have much appetite these days,” he sighed. “I used to eat lots and lots.”

“Because of your recent illness?” Emmie enquired.

“Yes, they don’t know if I will ever fully recover,” Teddy answered tragically. There was a snort heard from the direction of the window. “Some children die from scarlet fever,” he pointed out, throwing a cold look Colfax’s way before continuing sadly. “I may remain a semi-invalid for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, you poor child!” Pinky gasped. Evidently, Teddy’s angelic appearance was starting to win her over, despite his maleness.

“You must look to rebuild your strength,” Emmie said gravely, for clearly Master Teddy had a mind to play up to his convalescent status.

“You must take my egg, Master Edward,” Pinky fussed, pushing her plate his way. “No, I insist. They are most nutritious, and I am sure it will do you good.”

“Hannah, Teddy has already breakfasted,” Emmie protested, and she thought she heard another grumble of disapproval from Colfax.

“I could not eat a thing,” Pinky assured her, and noticing her agitation, Emmie believed her. It did not take much to spoil her friend’s appetite.

“It is too bad, you must certainly eat a cake for elevenses, Hannah.”

Pinky made a quick dismissive gesture, her eyes on Teddy, who, despite his previous words, was now tucking into her boiled egg. She looked gratified. “There now, that’s a good child.”

Emmie was not so sure.

“Do you not eat butter?” Teddy asked, eyeing next the piece of dry bread.

“Oh, er,” Pinky twittered in confusion.

“I’m afraid we are out of butter today,” Emmie interjected smoothly.

“Butter and sugar,” Teddy commented in his high childish voice. “I think you need to go shopping, Miss Ballentine.”

Emmie turned a deaf ear to Colfax’s hissed breath.

“I was so sure we had some butter left,” Pinky said, shaking her head as she passed her piece of bread to Teddy. “Those Startrites…”

“What’s a Startrite?” Teddy asked, picking up the bread and taking a bite of it.

“They occupy the floor above us,” Emmie said, pointing a finger to the ceiling. “We all share the kitchen and bathroom facilities, you see.”

Pinky’s cheeks turned even pinker at the mention of this. “So vexing,” she muttered. “Things wander so. That cake of rose hip soap, my dear,” she said, turning to Emmie, then clearly decided it was highly improper to discuss such things before a gentleman, even if he was only nine years old. She coughed.

“Did they pinch it?” Teddy asked through a mouthful of bread.

“I think I misplaced it,” Emmie said tactfully. “It was my own fault for not putting it away.”

“I bet they did pinch it,” Teddy said darkly. “When I was at boarding school, someone stole my best dip pen. It was made of mother-of-pearl and my godfather gave it to me for a present.”

“That is a good deal too bad,” Pinky clucked.

“Yes, for Lord Atherton said he would not buy me another,” Teddy recalled bitterly. That particular name from the past gave Emmie quite a jolt. Tall and arrogant, Lord Atherton had been Jeremy’s closest crony in those days. Of course, he would be Teddy’s godfather. “He said I probably lost it and would not even listen to a word I said.” His voice rose with indignation.

Pinky looked shocked and dismayed by this. “I am sure you would never be so careless with a treasured possession, dear boy,” she said firmly.

Teddy looked smug. “Never,” he agreed, and took a sip of unsweetened tea. Emmie saw him struggle to conceal his grimace. She was impressed he made the effort. “Will you come around to call on us this afternoon?” Teddy asked. “We are staying in The Royal Crescent.”

Emmie opened her mouth to decline this kindly, if improper offer, but Colfax was already clearing his throat portentously.

“Miss Ballentine has an appointment this afternoon,” he said uncompromisingly.

“An appointment?” She turned in her chair to look at the footman in surprise.

“You have not read your letter, miss,” he said with some reproach. Oh yes, the letter . Emmie cast about for it, before remembering she had placed it in the corner cupboard. She went to retrieve it and wondered once more at its thickness.

No sooner had she broken the seal than the mystery was solved. The envelope was stuffed with banknotes. Emmie stared down at them uncomprehendingly. It looked to be a small fortune! She looked up and met Colfax’s impassive gaze.

“His lordship said you would need to purchase bride-clothes,” he said.

“At such short notice?” Emmie objected faintly. “Wherever could I find—?”

“He has already booked you in with a modiste on Jerwin Street. One o’clock this afternoon. I’m to bring the carriage round for you.”

“Did he not take his carriage to London?” Emmie asked in surprise.

Colfax shook his head. “Wanted the horses to be well-rested before returning to Cornwall. He hired a conveyance to take to London.”

“Oh.” One of the sheets of paper was not money, Emmie noticed. It looked like a letter. She drew it out and unfolded it, with some trepidation.

Ballentine,

You will oblige me by attending an appointment with Madame de Flores at one o’clock on Monday 1 to arrange your trousseau. I have left the direction with my man, Colfax, and he will collect you accordingly.

Make use of the carriage during this time to say your farewells and run your errands. Colfax will call on you every morning to take instruction from you. Label any furniture that you want transported to Cornwall. He will see it is done.

You have two weeks, so use them wisely. Return your books to the lending library, hand your notice to your landlady, pay your bills, pack your bags. Above all else, prepare yourself, for at the end of these two weeks I will return, and you will be mine.

Jeremy

Emmie let out a shaky breath. “He seems to have thought of everything,” she said, lowering the letter.

Colfax nodded matter-of-factly. “Any instructions for me to carry out this morning?” he asked.

“I will need to confer with Pink—with Miss Pinson, I mean,” she corrected herself swiftly. “And we will compile a list.” The pawnbrokers , she thought suddenly. “Actually…”

“Yes, miss?” He must have seen the light spring to her eyes, for he looked curious.

“Would you be so good as to redeem some valuable items I have had to—to send to the menders ,” she said with emphasis, sending a meaningful look toward Teddy. “The one on Wainfleet Road. My Vienna clock, a French-style mirror, and a full set of lead crystal glasses are all there currently.”

“Of course, miss, nothing could be simpler.”

“Thank you so much, Colfax,” she enthused as she hurried from the room to find the slips. There were actually a good deal more of them stuffed into her empty jewelry box than she had remembered. Her watch and her gold gate bracelet had also been pawned, though she had sold her good quality jewelry long ago.

She hurried back to Colfax with the slips balled up in her fist. He accepted them wordlessly and she retrieved the envelope of money. She realized that just one of the banknotes would redeem the whole lot. Passing it to Colfax, she thanked him profusely and returned to the table.

“Come along, then, Master Edward,” he said. “Say your farewell to the ladies.”

Teddy dragged his feet over the leave-taking and clearly did not wish to return to his father’s lodgings. “For there is no one there for me to talk to,” he lamented.

“You have that nurse his lordship hired for your stay here,” Colfax reminded him.

“Nurse Jopling is so dull,” he complained. “She makes me drink horrible draughts and wear woolen undergarments.”

“She is devoted, I am sure, to your recovery,” Pinky opined.

“We have run out of conversation,” Teddy grumbled. “All she ever talks about is her old patients, most of whom are dead!”

Even as Colfax marched him downstairs, they could hear Teddy’s voice drifting back up toward them. “Well, but why can’t I come with you to fetch Miss Ballentine’s clock back from the menders? I tell you; I’m fed up lying on a sofa all day!”

“Oh dear,” muttered Pinky as they made their way back into their rooms. “Of course, Colfax cannot explain to him the sordid reality of a pawnbroker’s establishment.”

Emmie thought Colfax looked more than equal to the task but kept this to herself. “Well, he is certainly an interesting child,” she reflected. “Plenty of spirit and opinions of his own.”

“Indeed,” Pinky agreed. “Though delicate, of course, both in constitution and of mind.”

Emmie gave her a sidelong look. “Do you think so?” she murmured. “Curious, I thought him quite reassuringly robust.”

“I hope he will still partake of his luncheon,” Pinky continued absently. “And I did not spoil his appetite by letting him eat my egg. Meat, you know. As I understand it, men must eat a lot of it in order to maintain their health.” Hannah always spoke of the opposite sex as though they belonged to an entirely different species.

“In any event, I am glad we do not have to return to the pawnbroker’s,” Emmie admitted as they resumed their seats in the parlor.

“Oh yes, indeed!” Pinky agreed with a small shudder. “Such a dreadful place! It really is providential we need never set foot there again.”

“It certainly is, I had no idea what we could even hock next,” Emmie said, her glance flitting around the room. The things she still owned were all big, heavy pieces and she had no notion how they could have carted them as far as Wainfleet Road.

Would she have her own suite of rooms as Lady Faris? She knew some grand residences did have separate quarters for family members. And even if she did, would she have any need of her hefty bow-fronted cabinets, and the mahogany sideboard? It seemed unlikely.

“We must make a list of things we need to do in the next two weeks,” she said, thinking of Jeremy’s letter. “There’s a lot to organize, and only two weeks left to do it.”

“Two weeks, dear me,” Pinky uttered. “We must certainly hurry and finish our latest novels before we return them.”

“Yes,” Emmie agreed. “We cannot leave Josephine languishing. We must see her safely returned to the arms of her beloved Fernando.” Pinky paused and gave her a funny look. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, dear,” Pinky said quickly.

“No, tell me,” Emmie insisted.

“Well, it is just I have been considering if you were not right in what you said previously.”

“What did I say?”

“About, well, Count Stefano perhaps being the better choice for Josephine.”

“When did I—? Oh, that!” Emmie found herself suddenly extremely embarrassed. “That was just a nonsensical conversation, dear, I was not in earnest.”

“Well, I think, in hindsight, you made some salient points,” Pinky insisted. “Though, now that I come to consider it…” Her expression grew thoughtful. “I suppose that really Humphrey is the villain of the piece and Lord Faris, the hero.”

Emmie spluttered. “You think Lord Faris would make the better Fernando now?” She could think of nothing less appropriate, save for that of Humphrey cast in the role of a wicked mustachioed villain. “I cannot see it somehow!”

She wondered briefly what Pinky would think if she knew how Jeremy Vance had toyed with her back in the day. Perhaps it was better not to speculate. “You will come with me this afternoon, won’t you?” she said. “I shall need your help choosing wedding garments, and if it is the establishment I am thinking of, then it looks very smart and intimidating.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“And afterward we might even go to dinner somewhere nice?” she suggested, brandishing the envelope full of money. Their morning passed swiftly, and the carriage duly collected them for Emmie’s appointment and set them down on Jerwin Street.

The fabrics and trimmings were selected for Emmie’s wedding gown and few others besides. Leafing through the swaths of white silk, organza, and crepe gave her unfortunate recollections of her presentation dress, and she was determined that this time, she would have no train and wear no feathers.

Madame de Flores was insistent that only shades of white would do, so a fine duchess satin in ivory was settled on. Pinky fervently agreed her friend must follow in Queen Victoria’s footsteps and brought a veil to her attention that was embellished heavily with elaborate silk flowers.

Understanding that it was to be a daytime ceremony, she and Pinky had agreed that a high neckline and long sleeves were a necessity, but Madame de Flores shot this idea down at once.

“No, no, his lordship wishes for you to wed in a gown most elaborate. He wishes for you to wear the pearls and the orange blossom.” She snapped her fingers and fashion plates were brought forward showing highly trimmed gowns with low-cut bodices and puffed sleeves.

“These look more like evening dresses,” Emmie protested, “and besides, I do not own any pearls! Not anymore.”

Madame gave her a look. “You are to be a viscountess, mademoiselle. Certainement , there will be pearls.”

“Oh, you mean an heirloom necklace?” Pinky said with dawning understanding. “We did not think of that.”

“I’m confused,” Emmie admitted in a low voice as Madame clapped her hands for refreshment to be brought in for them. “I wonder if he means for us to be married here in Bath and then travel down to Cornwall, or if he means for us to be married at Vance Park.”

“I suppose with a special license,” Pinky replied, “you can really be married anywhere his lordship pleases.”

Moments later, Madame was sketching designs with delicate décolleté necklines. Emmie winced over them, only too aware that her own figure looked nothing like the wispy, waiflike maidens of Madame’s imaginings.

With this in mind, she firmly vetoed the elaborate swathing of tulle over any part of her, deaf to Madame’s protests. Despite its popularity, Emmie felt it added bulk, and bulk was neither necessary nor desirable to either her already ample bosom, or her not-so-slender waist.

“But ze neckline it will be indecent without ze tulle!” Madame protested, tape measure in hand.

“No, it will not, for you will not cut it so low as to expose too much,” Emmie responded firmly.

As for the full skirt, it was already a bell shape with its stiffened petticoats, and she did not want further rows upon rows of frills to make it even bigger. Madame was disappointed but Emmie was resolute.

This time around, she would not be forced into silhouettes that did not suit her. She wanted clothes that would flatter her and make her feel pretty, not a spectacle. Quite frankly, she did not care if she was wearing the latest fashion or not.

“Will it truly be ready for two weeks’ time?” Emmie asked doubtfully as Madame had her assistants carry the bolts of fabric away.

“Most assuredly. I have hired extra hands on his lordship’s instruction. You must come back every day at the same time until that time.”

“Every day?” Emmie was startled and not pleasurably so.

Madame nodded emphatically. “Tomorrow we will look at fitting the bodice toile. We have the measurements now to start the calico pattern and will make any necessary adjustments tomorrow. The team is sat in the back room now, starting work on your gown.”

Emmie was impressed if not a little intimidated by this efficiency. As a reward, after the appointment, she and Pinky went for a very nice meal and made the most of it. Emmie’s mood veered wildly over the three courses, from grimly determined to cautiously optimistic and back again.

It would be so nice not to have to worry about money ever again! It wore on one so and tainted almost every experience when you never knew if you would be able to afford next month’s rent.

Of course, these days she had other concerns lurking at the back of her brain. Namely what manner of bridegroom she had agreed to marry, but she refused to let herself dwell on this overlong. She had done what she needed to do, that was all. Accepting Lord Faris’s suit had been a necessary evil, nothing more.

Over the next two weeks, their days were full and busy. Colfax called every morning and on the third morning, he returned their formerly pawned items. He was apologetic when informing Emmie that her gold bracelet had been sold, for the six-month waiting period had passed. Emmie bore the loss stoically, for she had sold pieces she had liked far better.

The morning after that, they received a hamper of sugar, eggs, jam, and pastries piled high and tied up with a ribbon, sent with the compliments of Master Teddy. Pinky was quite overcome. “So thoughtful!” she exclaimed. “Really, quite a dear little boy.”

“He’s hanging out for another invitation to breakfast,” Emmie laughed. “But we are far too busy to entertain at present, and besides, we have half-packed boxes and trunks lying open in every room.”

They started attaching labels to the various pieces of furniture on the second week. Any item Emmie thought she could live without would send Pinky into flat despair. “Oh, you surely cannot part with that, Emmie!” she would protest, her eyes filling with tears. “It is so grand, and do you not remember how handsome it used to look in the sitting room at Porchester Square?” It seemed Pinky could only bear to part with the cheaper items they had bought in recent years to fit into smaller spaces.

In the end, Emmie simply resigned herself to the fact they were taking several unwieldy pieces and devoutly hoped Vance Park could accommodate them. Thinking of Lord Faris’s luxurious carriage and immaculate clothes, she felt some misgivings on the subject. If his home was half as smart as he was, then he would take a poor view of having to house several out-of-date pieces of furniture.

Emmie eyed the comfortable, if rather shabby, mismatched armchairs and wondered if Pinky would have a room of her own large enough to contain them. She knew housekeepers often had their own sitting rooms. Would Lord Faris’s generosity extend to such a thing for his governess? She could but hope.

Every afternoon Emmie was collected by Viscount Faris’s crested carriage and taken to Jerwin Street where she had pattern pieces pinned to her. Once they were satisfied with the fit of her bridal gown, then more sketches were brought forth for walking gowns, day dresses, house dresses, frilly wrappers, and elaborate evening gowns.

“But Madame,” Emmie objected. “There is surely not enough time for all of these gowns to be made up.”

“No,” she agreed with alacrity. “But if we get the pattern pieces fitted to you, then the finished gowns can be sent on afterward to Vance Park.”

Emmie supposed she could see the sense in that. Madame was quick to veto Emmie’s habitual shades of green, navy, and brown. “It is spring, and you are a bride, mademoiselle. You must pick out the pretty colors.”

She was encouraged instead to pick from a bewildering variety of pinks and pale blues. “I have not worn such colors for years,” Emmie admitted. Practical considerations such as how things would wash, and durability had been prioritized of late.

“You were in mourning,” Pinky agreed. “And then…” They exchanged a look which said, And then money became tight , but neither of them voiced this thought aloud. “Oh, this would look so pretty on you, Emmie!” Pinky exclaimed, leaning forward to touch a bolt of delicate material. “You always looked so well in shades of pink.”

“You do not think it might be a little too…young for me?” Emmie prevaricated.

But Madame de Flores would not hear of this and by the end of the session, Emmie had completely lost track of precisely what garments were being made, let alone how many of them. She would simply have to keep to her daily appointments and leave the rest to providence.

It was on the twelfth day that Madame de Flores announced the dress was ready and they were to have a full-dress rehearsal. To Emmeline’s astonishment, they had a girl ready to dress her hair as well as the regular attendants. Silk stockings, long gloves, and embroidered slippers which matched her veil were all laid out ready for her.

“I had not realized we were doing this today,” she protested as the team of young women carried her off to be dressed and pampered. Even Pinky did not escape their attention, for when Emmeline emerged in her finery, her friend was trying on a selection of bonnets which had been brought out for her inspection. This seemed quite odd for the establishment was not a millinery.

“I hardly know,” Pinky was dithering. “I am sure I have plenty of wear left in my black crepe. Oh, Emmie !” Pinky cried, catching sight of her, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, don’t you look a picture!”

“Do you think so?” Emmie asked self-consciously. “You don’t think it is, well, a little too much ?”

“Oh no !” Pinky said earnestly. “You look like a fairy-tale princess.”

This was not exactly reassuring. At eighteen, Emmie would have been delighted to hear this, but at twenty-eight… She hastened toward the full-length mirror to gape at her dazzling reflection. “I’m not sure about this veil now my hair has been dressed in all these fancy hair pins. When I picked out this elaborate one, I thought my hair would be quite plain, not all swept about and dressed like this.”

“But the pins are so pretty!” Pinky enthused. “Why, when they catch the light, they glitter like diamonds!”

“They do, don’t they?” Emmie agreed uneasily. “They must be made of a new kind of glass for Madame has not charged me any new exorbitant amount. And look at these shoes,” she said, sticking one foot out from under her white satin skirts.

“Oh!” Pinky gasped again. “Such exquisite embroidery. They match your veil, Emmie.”

“Yes, and that’s not all,” Emmie said, lowering her voice. “You should see my drawers!”

Pinky’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh,” she said faintly. “Perhaps a French notion?” Anything slightly risqué Pinky always thought must be French. She had better not mention her corset, Emmie thought. Even she had been scandalized by the lack of whalebone. The stays she had worn during her London season had been so constricting they had creaked. These were so light; they did not pinch her at all.

Realizing she had left her handkerchief in the other room, Emmie made for the door, practically colliding with another person coming in.

“I’m so sorry—” she started to apologize when she looked straight into Jeremy Vance’s blue eyes. “Oh!”

“Ah, Ballentine, what providential timing,” he said, his hands lightly clasping her elbows as he steadied her.

Oh dear , thought Emmie. Oh dear, oh dear . Being in his arms was horribly familiar. She felt herself turn puce. “Were you, er, coming to find me?” she croaked foolishly, for what other reason would he be visiting a lady’s dressmaker’s?

“I was,” he answered with a slow smile. He still hadn’t lowered his arms, she realized, glancing about them. She wished he would. Two of the seamstresses bustled down the corridor past them and giggled. Doubtless, everyone would think he was embracing her.

“My lord!” Emmie blurted in astonishment. “You said two weeks, and it has only been twelve days!”

“My keenness lent an urgency to my task, and I swept all before me,” he said, dragging her into the room. Once there, he held her hands out to her sides, and swept an appreciative gaze down her body. Emmie’s breath stuck in her throat. As usual, his presence seemed to have sucked all the air out of the room. Her head swam.

“My God,” he murmured. “I knew you would make a beautiful bride, but this is almost too much.”

“Too much?” Emmie repeated in alarm.

“Too much for me to take,” he clarified, lifting one of her hands to press it to his chest. “My heart is threatening to beat right out of my chest.”

Emmie stared at him. He was joking, of course. She heard Pinky’s breathing hitch and forced herself to respond sensibly. “Thank you, my lord,” she replied, “but you are too effusive in your praise. And in any case, you should not see me before the wedding day.”

He glanced down at himself and then looked back at her. Belatedly, Emmie noticed he was wearing wedding attire of pale gray trousers, a silk waistcoat, and pale blue coat.

“You—you mean—?”

“Why that today is to be our wedding day, of course. We are due at St. Matthew in the Avon within the hour.”

“What?” Emmie squeaked, wheeling around to locate the clock.

“It is to be a three o’clock wedding,” he clarified, “and tomorrow we will set off for Vance Park.” As Emmie’s jaw dropped, he sauntered over to where Pinky sat among all the hatboxes. “Allow me, Miss Pinson. It must be this one, I think,” he said, lifting a silky lavender confection from some tissue paper and presenting it to her friend with a small bow. “I thought how well that shade would become you as soon as I saw it in London. I had gray gloves trimmed with matching buttons and an umbrella sent also. They must be here somewhere, I fancy.” His gaze traveled over the pile to pull out a flat pale blue box done up in ribbon. “Here.” He dropped it into her lap. “With my compliments.”

Pinky’s mouth dropped open. “For me? Oh, my lord, I—I couldn’t—”

He smiled at her. “Of course you must. You are to act as Emmeline’s witness, I presume?” He turned with a look of query in his eye.

“Of course,” Emmie said at once. “I could have none other.” Despite his high-handedness, Emmie felt touched by this attention to her friend. Perhaps he had understood her feeling on this matter after all. Pinky turned crimson, accepting the gifts with tears in her eyes. “So kind,” she murmured in confusion.

Emmie hastened to her friend’s side. “What a becoming bonnet, Hannah,” she said soothingly. “You must let us see you wear it.”

Hannah moved over to the mirror and drew it on. It did suit her with its pretty pleats and ribbon, though her friend would never have picked it out for herself. “You do not think it a little youthful for my years?” she quavered.

“You cannot be a day over thirty,” Jeremy interjected gallantly, which embarrassed Pinky greatly for she was fully forty years old.

“It looks so well with your coat too,” Emmeline said loudly, reassuring her friend and simultaneously shutting down the subject of age.

“It does complement it, does it not?” Pinky allowed cautiously. “Let me try it with the gloves,” she said shyly, unfastening the ribbon to the box.

“Here,” Jeremy said, passing two velvet boxes to Emmie. At her quizzical glance, he added, “Something old and something new is customary for brides, is it not?” The first box contained a long string of perfectly matched and lustrous pearls, far finer than the ones she had used to own. “These have been in my family for a while now. They were my great-grandmother’s and have been sitting in the bank for the past twelve months. Now they are yours.”

He took them from the silk-lined box, twisting the strand so that it was doubled and then clasped them around her neck. He nodded to the smaller box. “I bought you that in London.” Emmie opened it and gasped aloud at the fabulous diamond bracelet within. “Colfax told me you lost a bracelet to the pawnbroker’s, so now I have replaced it.”

“It was nothing to compare to this one,” Emmie said weakly as he clasped it about her wrist. He gave her an absent smile and then his eye fell on a long package which he pounced on and passed to Hannah. “The missing umbrella,” he explained, “to complete your ensemble.”

As her friend unwrapped and exclaimed over the handsome umbrella with its lavender trim, Jeremy turned back to Emmie. “Now, is there anything else we must attend to?”

“What about the clothes I wore here, Pinky’s old bonnet and gloves?” Emmie asked, glancing around for those items.

“Leave them, Madame will see they are parceled up and sent on to us.” He paused for a moment. “We set off for Cornwall tomorrow at noon.”

“Tomorrow!” Emmie was aghast at such short notice. She was not sure she had attended to every detail she should have.

“Do not worry,” he assured her with a smile. “If you have overlooked anything, I can see it is attended to after our departure.”

She regarded him doubtfully but at that moment, Pinky broke into her thoughts.

“Oh, I have it!” she exclaimed, looking up quickly. “It is something borrowed we have forgotten! A bride must always wear some borrowed token, must she not? Would you accept something from me, Emmie?”

“With pleasure,” she answered, smiling.

Pinky promptly unfastened her grandmother’s pink cameo brooch and approached her. “I know how much you admire it. How lucky I am not wearing the jet one today!”

“Thank you,” Emmie said, indicating a spot on her neckline.

“If you wanted to pin it to your petticoats out of sight, I would not be offended,” Pinky assured her.

“Nonsense! I want it in full view.”

Pinky carefully pinned the little brooch to Emmeline’s decolletage. “Now that just leaves something blue,” she commented. “And a sixpence in your shoe.”

“I already have something blue,” Emmie pointed out, holding up her left hand. “My engagement ring.”

“I’m sure Teddy will happily supply the silver sixpence,” Jeremy said confidently. “And he will appreciate being part of proceedings. Now, the carriage awaits; shall I settle up with Madame and meet you ladies outside?”