Page 114 of A Foolish Flirtation

“A harmless pursuit,” Emmie countered. “Despite what some people imagine!”

“Oh, I quite agree.”

“And Colfax? I just cannot see it. He must be younger than her for one thing.”

“Only by about five years or so. What you really mean is that he is altogether too virile for someone like your staid Miss Pinson? Admit it.” Emmie pressed her lips together and turned away, feeling annoyed. “You know, she might not even have felt at liberty to discuss such matters with you,” he suggested gently.

The thought dismayed her. “Why should she not? Whatever do you mean?”

“Because of the difference between you in station,” he suggested mildly. “There is a barrier of sorts between employer and employee. Or maybe because she started out as a figure of authority in your life and Miss Pinson is a stickler for preserving such distinctions.”

“Nonsense! We have long since passed that stage. I told you, did I not, that I consider her to be family by this point.”

“You did, but…” He let his words hang in the air.

“But what?” Emmie demanded, feeling thoroughly needled.

“You never told her about me, did you, Ballentine?” Emmie regarded him a moment speechlessly. “That morning at Winkworth Street was the first she had ever heard of me, was it not?”

Emmie felt herself turn very hot and red. “That was not due to…anything you suggest!” she answered crisply. “Rather I did not tell her because I was fully aware of how badly I had conducted myself, abandoning everything she had taught me about behaving with decorum. I knew she would be disappointed in me if she knew how I had left myself wide open to criticism and ridicule.”

“In fact, because you still saw her as an arbiter of your behavior,” he said simply. “If you still preserved that distinction, is it any wonder, then, that she did too?” His words felt like a slap to her face. “Don’t look like that, Emmeline,” he said quickly and reached across for her hand. “I did not mean—that is, I apologize. I have been insensitive again.”

She attempted to rally, seeing the concerned look on his face. If she was not careful, he was going to start being overly solicitous again. “No, no,” she said quickly. “It’s not that. Not at all. I just never dreamed—” She broke off her words. She hated thinking she might have stifled Pinky somehow and now her friend could not confide in her.

Emmie took a deep breath. “I will have to—to make a concerted effort not to be so close-minded,” she said firmly. “I must take a lesson from your book and be more open and outgoing. I will try to make more friends.” A series of emotions flitted across Jeremy’s face, panic and relief, before settling into one of mild perturbation. “You look puzzled,” Emmie observed.

“It’s just—” She waited patiently for him to continue. “I don’t have many friends myself, Emmeline. Not really. I would say I only really have one that truly counts and that is Atherton.”

“What about Squire Pebmarsh?”

“I’m friendly with Squire Pebmarsh,” he emphasized. “That’s a different thing. Being on friendly terms is easy, being a true friend is not. I know how to be charming,” he said slowly, “but I can never be bothered to maintain the façade. It takes too much work.”

She laughed at his plaintive tone. She could not help it. “Now you sound like Teddy.”

“He is like me, isn’t he?”

“In the best possible way,” she agreed. At his quizzical look, she explained, “All the whimsy and none of the vice.”

Jeremy’s expression sobered. “Ah,” he said comprehendingly. “Quite so.”

“Personally, I don’t mind your vices so much, these days.”

He turned his head sharply to look at her. “Careful, Ballentine,” he warned. “Or I’ll start taking you at your word.”

Emmie caught her breath but did not quite know how to answer. “So,” she said weakly. “We have a friend apiece. Neither of us is exactly swimming in bosom friends, are we?”

“We have each other,” he said roundly, lifting her hand to his lips. “And besides, you malign yourself. I can think of two more people that care very much about you.” At her quizzical look, he said, “You have the Hardimans. Mr. Hardiman tried to take a firm line with me when I told him we were to be wed. If he could have brow-beaten me into offering him more information, he would have.

“As it was, he chased me down the street after I paid him his severance money to secure my address. He said he needed to be sure of your safety and that he knew his wife would want to write to you, so I had little choice but to give it to him. I am surprised she has not written already.”

“Oh, but she has!” Emmie responded warmly. “I received their letter shortly after we sent out the wedding cake. Mr. Hardiman added a postscript in his own hand. They were very worried about me, but I replied and reassured them that everything had worked out for the best. It was only, well, a little awkward. Reading between the lines they were obviously very shocked about my broken engagement and subsequent marriage.” She avoided Jeremy’s eye. “I could not address it openly, so it felt like I was tiptoeing around the issue somewhat.”

Jeremy’s mouth tightened. “I do not know why you are so careful with Stockton’s reputation. Why not expose him and be done with it? You owe him nothing.” Noticing her shocked reaction, he paused, and fearful that he would apologize again, Emmie continued in a rush.

“You are quite right about the Hardimans. Mr. Hardiman has been a good friend to me over the years. He always looked out for my interests, and his wife, Harriet, is a gem. I would like to consider them friends, but I think I would need to build on the acquaintance to make that so.”

“Then do it.” Jeremy shrugged. “You could always invite them to stay with us at Vance for Christmas, or perhaps a couple of weeks next summer.”