Page 140 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Perhaps it is not intended for me to sit upon?” Emmie said doubtfully.

“No, it certainly is.”

“How do you know?”

“Read the inscription.”

She bent down. It was labeled as though for a museum exhibit. “‘The Fairest,’” she read before standing up with a red face. “I think Mr. Penrose must be having his little joke,” she said, pursing her lips.

“Not at all, I think he understood his assignment admirably.”

“What do you mean?”

“This bedchamber is clearly the bower of Aphrodite, goddess of love. Yet do you see the goddess represented herein?”

Emmie scanned the room fruitlessly. She could see doves, cupids, Grecian urns filled with hundreds of pink roses, an elegant statue of a winged Eros with long curling hair, a bow, and an arrow. She even spotted a golden apple labeled The Apple of Discord, set into a recessed niche, but she could not see a single solitary Venus.

“I thought he would paint one in the scallop shell,” she said, glancing toward the huge pink shell painted so artistically above the head of the bed. “Like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, but he left it empty.”

“He did not leave it empty, Emmeline. The shell frames my own personal goddess of love who will be sleeping beneath it. You.”

Emmie’s mouth fell open. “Me? But…but I assure you, I did not instruct him to depict me as Venus!” she huffed as soon as she got her breath back. “Such an idea would be absurd!”

“I think it is charming. It is precisely what I would have asked for, had I the nerve.” He hesitated. “If you let it stand as it is, I will let that wretched boy have the folly decked out as he sees fit.”

Emmie gasped. “Really?” Wimble’s and Penrose’s efforts had been concentrated thus far on finishing the new conservatory and the decoration of her rooms in time for Christmas. The renovation of the folly and building of the amphitheater were scheduled for the New Year, and remained a source of great contention between father and son.

While Jeremy had given up on the judgment of Paris, he had taken up the classical Muses, which he thought would work almost as well, while Teddy insisted that classical heroes would be a much superior theme.

“With a mural of heroes? And the twelve labors of Heracles?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “Whatever he wants.”

She returned to his side and wrapped her arms about his waist. “You truly are the most wonderful husband and father in the world, you know.”

“Yes, I am aware.” He grinned.

They kissed again. “Virtue is your reward,” she told him demurely.

“You are my reward, Ballentine,” he corrected her.

Smiling at him beatifically, she left the shelter of his arms to drift back over to her dressing table. Jeremy flung himself down on her new pink satin bedcovers.

“I wish we had a bit longer before our guests arrive,” he grumbled. “I did not even get to watch you make ready. I don’t know why you insisted we had to get dressed so early!”

“Because there is so much to do,” she explained patiently. “Half the guests are already here, as our house guests! Poor Mrs. Cheviot is run quite ragged making everything perfect for them. She’s been in quite a spin since your aunt Louisa and her husband, the Member of Parliament, got here. And then, when the Tiptons arrived…” She gave him a significant look.

“Well, that was all your idea. I take no responsibility for that decision.” It had taken some persuading for Jeremy to agree to invite his former in-laws to Vance.

“They are Teddy’s grandparents after all, and they have been perfect lambs so far. Ever since Lady Sharpe told me how much Lady Tipton regretted the rift, I knew we had to make some gesture, and they were so keen to accept. It would be such a shame if Teddy was to lose all contact with that side of his family, and it is not as though I have brought him any cousins,” she said regretfully.

“You brought Hannah Pinson into his life,” Jeremy pointed out.

“Yes, that is true.” The thought cheered her, and she flashed him a grateful smile.

“And you will give him a little brother or sister next year. And if you think Mrs. Cheviot has not been enjoying herself immensely airing out all the guest rooms and ordering in a mountain of delicacies, then you are quite wrong. All the staff are reveling in it. I never dared hold a full-scale house party here at Vance before. Too much like hard work. They’ve loved having the best silver service and the best china back out after all this time.”

“Well, you have been the perfect host so far,” Emmie assured him. “Mr. and Mrs. Hardiman were singing your praises to me this morning after breakfast. They think the dissolute viscount they heard dark whispers about must have been some other man entirely.”