Page 136 of A Foolish Flirtation

Emmie fastened the last button and turned around to face him. “Is my hair a mess?”

“It is a veritable riot of curls. I rather like it.”

“I expect I look more Medusa than Aphrodite.”

He laughed and they walked through, hand in hand, to find the first course already waiting for them, and Higgins disappearing discreetly back through the door.

“I hope no one noticed that I did not touch a morsel of that breakfast the other morning,” Emmie said, sinking down onto a cushion.

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked innocently. “You definitely touched the bread rolls. I had to wipe the crumbs off your front.”

She pulled a face at him, and he laughed. “I think you should sit in my lap again this evening.”

“No thank you,” she responded briskly. “I want to actually eat something this time.” He smirked. Removing the covers, she found Mrs. Oxley had prepared them a light consommé served with bread. Spooning herself some, and then passing it to Jeremy, she helped herself to some bread and glanced across at him. “Are you really building a conservatory here at Vance?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, spooning some into his own bowl. “The most extravagant conservatory in all Cornwall.”

“You kept that very quiet.”

“Yes, for having commissioned it, it suddenly occurred to me that you might find it in somewhat poor taste.”

She snorted. “It can’t be in any worse taste than your own private amphitheater!”

“That’s entirely your fault, Lady Faris,” he said, pointing at her with his spoon. “You were the one who persuaded me to that particular piece of nonsense.”

“True,” she conceded, taking a bite of bread. As she chewed it, she wondered how things were going along downstairs. “Mr. Wimble, poor man, will be relieved that he doesn’t have to dodge my conversation in future, now I know what he is truly working on. I wondered why he always looked so frightened of me.”

“Beautiful women intimidate him,” Jeremy responded at once.

“I fancy Lottie might be spreading the word below that you punched an ex-admirer of mine from London today.”

“More than likely, I’d say. Let tongues wag. I never really cared about causing scenes.” He shrugged. “Who knows, it might even improve my reputation. Nye certainly seemed to like me all the better for it.”

“Do you think it will?” she mused. “Improve your reputation, I mean? All this work I am doing trying to get on the right committees and all that was really needed was for you to kick up a dust in an inn!” To her surprise, he did not laugh at this, but propped himself up on one elbow looking very serious.

“Which brings me to another confession,” he said ruefully, reaching for her hand across the table. “The truth is, Ballentine, that everything I told you about my motivation for marrying you was a massive lie. Not like that!” he said swiftly, seeing the fear rise up in her expression. “I wanted to marry you very badly, you know I did,” he said with conviction.

“What I mean is that I never cared a damn about you joining the local board of ladies for education or building bridges with my neighbors or any of that other stuff I spouted. I didn’t care about you being a picture of respectability or even a good mother at the end of the day,” he confessed. “Though it is a happy circumstance you turned out to be one, of course.”

She looked completely at sea. “Then why did you say—?”

“You were quite right that day in Hutton’s tea shop,” he carried on. “It never made any sense that I should think you the ideal candidate to reform my image. Your own brush with society was hardly exemplary.” He gave a wan smile. “You practically let me seduce you in full view of fashionable London, now, didn’t you, my darling?”

Emmie drew in a sharp breath. Before she could object, he said, “You could spill drunkenly out of carriages twice a week, lose your diamonds, waltz with whomever you like, and gamble away my entire fortune and I still would not want to divorce you.”

She stared at him. “Jeremy—”

“Do you want to know something truly shocking, Ballentine? You could do practically anything and I would let you get away with it.”

She thought about this for a moment. “Practically?”

“No lovers,” he said. “I could not stomach that.”

“You would divorce me?”

“No,” he said quickly. “But they would end up buried in shallow graves under the terrace.”

“Jeremy!”