Page 133 of A Foolish Flirtation

“And so, we were married,” Emmie murmured. “But we still weren’t being terribly honest with one another.”

“Except in the bedroom,” Jeremy interjected.

“Yes, in the beginning, the gloves always came off in the bedchamber. It was when you started being so apologetic there that you really worried me.”

He looked alarmed. “I hope I was never aggressive with you!”

“Aggressive?” Emmie was startled. “That was not my meaning. I meant kid gloves, not boxing gloves.”

“Oh.” He looked relieved.

“Sorry, I did not mean—”

“No, no, I take your meaning now. At least… Are you saying, Emmeline, that you do not want me to be overly polite in the bedroom?”

“Yes,” she agreed at once.

Jeremy looked stunned for a moment, then he laughed. “Ah, Ballentine,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I think I can safely promise never to be too polite in that arena again.”

“Just promise me you won’t apologize again afterward, that’s all, as though you regretted anything we had done.”

He sobered at once, tightening his arms about her. “I never regretted a thing. I was just scared you did not want me, as I wanted you. Besides, I have not apologized once since you played the bathing goddess for me, have I?”

“Yes, you did. After that time on the breakfast table,” she reminded him.

He looked surprised. “That was different! I apologized because I went too far with you that morning. You could have burned your nose on the coffeepot, and I likely would not even have noticed!”

“Yes, you would, for I would soon have let you know,” Emmie contradicted him. “It’s nice when you’re worshipful,” she said, coloring hotly, “but it’s also nice sometimes when you are not.”

He drew back. “Really?” he asked cautiously, a faint gleam in his eye. She nodded. “And you promise you would tell me if I ever did anything you were not comfortable with?”

“Yes, I would. I told you quite plainly I did not like you talking of the Hawfords’ ball, did I not? And that was long before we had cleared up any of our misunderstandings.”

“You did, but I did not really listen,” he said ruefully.

“Well, no, but that was not a matter of physical comfort, but emotional.”

“I still need to improve drastically in such matters, and I will,” he promised, pressing her hand to his lips. “I never want to let you down again.”

She smiled at him. “I wish—” She broke off her words, shaking her head. “No, it’s silly, really.”

“What is?”

“It’s just, I wish you could have come to me all those years ago and told me how you really felt. I spent so many years thinking what I felt for you wasn’t reciprocated. That I had made a complete fool of myself over you. But if I had known that you—that you loved me back—”

“So we could both be desperately unhappy, instead of just me?”

“We were both unhappy, you stupid man! Besides, if you had only done that, then we could have faced it together.”

“Emmeline,” he groaned, shaking his head, “there was nothing we could have done, my love. I was promised to another and—”

“Yes, there was,” she insisted.

“My father would never have permitted—”

“But my father was rich in those days,” she interrupted him. “He would have given us money, and what would it have mattered if your father had cut you off. The estate and the title were entailed and would have come to you eventually. You could have lived with us at Porchester Square and been like Atherton.”

“Like Atherton?”