Page 102 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Were you ever…like this?” she asked, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. “With your first wife.”

“Never,” he admitted at once. “We shared very little intimacy even in the early years of our marriage. Certainly nothing remotely like this. Neither of us desired it, you see.”

“Oh.” He thought another question hovered on those pretty lips, so he waited. “But you do want this with me?”

“Very much so.”

She smiled at him, and he had to catch his breath. “Good,” she said. “If I had known anything about it, that morning at Hutton’s, then I would have asked for a husband who would act as friend and companion to me.”

A friend and companion? Jeremy swallowed, feeling horribly conflicted all of a sudden. He nodded, rolling onto his back so she would not see this reflected in his eyes. This was good, he told himself firmly. You trusted a friend and companion. Mina said his wife needed to learn to trust him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see she was still watching him, a faint look of concern on her face. He cleared his throat. “When I said that about joining committees, I did not appreciate quite how busy you would be. If you think it will be too much for you, then—”

“Oh no,” she said quickly. “I think it will be a good thing. Since Pinky moved out, I have been missing female society a good deal.”

Jeremy frowned. He had no idea how she could be missing Miss Pinson when she had seen her every day since her move. “You said she was settling well in her cottage?”

“Oh yes, she adores it. She has all her rooms laid out so nicely now, with all her things around her. I think that spinet of your mother’s is her favorite piece, and that dining set you gave her is her pride and joy. All her new neighbors have visited to admire her front parlor. Only she thinks she might need a dog,” she rattled on. “She has been offered first choice of a puppy from a litter two doors down. Not the Ennises but the family next to them, the Thomases.”

“A dog, really?” he asked. “For some reason, I imagine Miss Pinson owning a cat rather than a dog.”

“Well, in the day she is perfectly happy and content in her home, but at night, poor Pinky is rather nervous. She imagines tapping on the windowpane, or someone moving about in one of the rooms downstairs. If she had a dog, she thinks that would calm her nerves considerably.”

Jeremy felt a strange pricking of his conscience at the idea of Miss Pinson’s nameless nighttime dread. “Likely the noises are merely her neighbors,” he said uneasily. “It will just be the Ennises moving about next door, or else a tree branch tapping at the window.”

“Yes,” Emmie agreed, “and Pinky knows that really.”

“I hope this book we chose is not giving her bad dreams,” he said, indicating The Haunting of Jennings Hall, although in truth he was finding it far from hair-raising so far. Alas, none of the characters were proving as dynamic as Count Stefano. “We could always swap it for another.”

“She had not actually started it when I saw her today,” Emmie admitted. “She has not had time, what with entertaining calls from all her neighbors. You know, she has been enjoying herself excessively. She even baked a seed cake from her great-aunt’s recipe. She is most looking forward to our taking tea with her tomorrow. She asked me quite particularly what sort of sandwiches you prefer.”

“What did you tell her?” Jeremy asked with interest.

“I told her egg and cress, or ham,” she said a little self-consciously, “because I know she has a plentiful supply of both. The Ennises keep chickens and gave her a dozen eggs as a welcome gift, and Mrs. Cheviot gave Teddy and me a hamper of things to take along today to fill Pinky’s cupboards. There was a large cured ham in there.”

“I hope she has saved some of her seed cake for me,” Jeremy said. “I’ve never tried it. Or should we take some of our wedding cake with us?”

“There’s none left,” she informed him promptly. “It has all been sent out. Mrs. Oxley is making us a small celebration cake to take with us tomorrow.”

“You think of everything.”

“Incidentally, what is your favorite sandwich? A wife should know these things.”

“Can’t you guess?”

“You’re tricky,” she said, tapping her chin. “You’re a man, so I might guess salted beef, but you are very refined so you might prefer cucumber.”

He laughed. “As a matter of fact, you almost had it right to begin with. Ham and tomato, but the tomatoes aren’t ripe yet.”

“Aren’t you going to guess mine?”

“I already know yours, Ballentine. I’ve watched you nibbling daintily on them at least half a dozen times. Cheese and chive.”

“You are very observant.”

“Not really,” he answered with a shrug. “Only when it comes to you.” He allowed his eyes to roam over her a little too warmly and had to turn away, clearing his throat. “Now,” he said briskly, “are we going to read this book, or aren’t we? For all we know, Miss Pinson might sit up all night and read the whole thing cover to cover.”

Emmeline’s dimple flashed out and she picked her book back up, furrowing her brow. As soon as she was absorbed in the story, he let his thoughts wander back to his current predicament. This was all good progress, he assured himself.