Page 142 of A Foolish Flirtation

“White satin? With red velvet?”

“My gloves are white,” she pointed out. “And I could not possibly use another fan, so do not ask me to.”

He laughed. “If Lady Sharpe raises her eyebrows at you, so be it.”

“Lady Sharpe would never. She’s my staunchest supporter. Since that summer fund raiser I can do no wrong in her eyes.”

“Come along, then, Lady Faris.” He offered her his arm.

She took it. Together they swept out of the room.

*

The Christmas festivities were in full swing. Emmie cast a quick, assessing look about the drawing room, where everything seemed to be going swimmingly. The Nyes were talking with the Tavistocks, though by Mina’s frequent glances toward the door, she guessed her sister-in-law was itching to slip away to select another novel from the library.

Mina had not only joined their book club but had outstripped them all when it came to burning through their collection of novels. It had brought the two of them a good deal closer, much to Jeremy’s evident satisfaction.

The vicar and his wife were conversing with the Hardimans, who were starting to relax in their new surroundings. Teddy was helping Pinky to a glass of fruit punch, while Jeremy was speaking to the string quartet set up in the far corner and currently taking a break from their performance.

The evergreens were glistening with berries and chandeliers were glittering with lights. In short, everything looked pretty as a picture. Swiftly crossing through the hall, where she discovered Squire Pebmarsh and Mr. Penrose paying elaborate court to Lady Sharpe and the rest of the Good Works committee, she swept into the blue sitting room and found Mr. Wimble deep in conversation with Miss Delia Pebmarsh.

This was surprising, but even more so, was where Miss Blanche Pebmarsh had disappeared to with Edgar Needham. That gentleman had squired his much maligned sister, Miss Halperston, to the party this evening, but had then been whisked away by Blanche as the most eligible bachelor present, and Caroline now stood awkwardly alone, nursing a glass of lemonade.

“Who is that dyspeptic-looking young woman stood next to the potted fern?” asked Lord Atherton’s voice at Emmie’s ear. She turned, and he presented her with a glass of champagne.

“Thank you,” she said, setting it down. “Good evening, Lord Atherton. I did not know you had arrived yet! That is Miss Caroline Halperston, and it is not dyspepsia that afflicts her, but rather a certain social awkwardness. It is too bad of her brother to abandon her like that! I suspect Blanche has dragged him into the music room, which I really meant to have remained out of bounds tonight.”

“Then you ought to have locked it. Guests never have any respect for unlocked doors these days,” he lamented. “Tell me, has she any money?”

“Money? Not that I am aware of.”

He tutted. “A pity.”

“Are you fortune hunting?” she asked him suspiciously. “If so, the Pebmarsh girls are a much better bet.”

“They are hardly girls, my dear Lady Faris.” Lord Atherton grimaced, taking a swig of champagne. “And they are both so disgustingly hearty. I can’t stand hearty women.” He shuddered eloquently.

“What time did you get here?” Emmie asked, “I did not hear you announced.”

“Oh, I’ve only just arrived,” he said comfortably. “Slipped up the backstairs and found my usual room awaiting me, bless Mrs. Cheviot’s little heart. I changed my suit and had a little toddle around the dear old place, whilst having a smoke.”

“And you’ve not seen Jeremy yet?” she asked, threading her arm through his. “I’d better take you to him at once.”

“No hurry. I wanted to speak to you first in any case.”

“Did you?” She was strangely flattered. “I was so sorry you did not come and stay with us in the summer. We expected you but you never came.”

He smiled. “I thought I should leave it at least six months before I turned up here at Vance. That way I could skip those insufferable stages while you two were tying yourselves up in knots and suffering needless agonies on the altar of love. There is nothing quite so tedious as a pair of frustrated lovers.” He gave her a sidelong look. “How long did it take you, by the way?”

“How long did what take me?”

“To winkle the truth out of him. I knew it wouldn’t take you too long. Not after I gave you all those helpful hints at the wedding.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And by that you mean, how long did it take for me to uncover his undying love for me?”

“Precisely,” he said with satisfaction. “I always knew you had a decent head on your shoulders, despite that starry-eyed gaze of yours.”

“It took me rather longer than it should have,” she admitted honestly. He looked amused. “But it was more like three months in the end than six.”