Page 18 of A Foolish Flirtation

I want another child, trembled on his lips but bearing his seed might not appeal to her currently, so he quashed that thought. “I want someone who will embark on several projects around the estate,” he improvised. “I want domesticity,” he concluded at last. “In short, I’ve had a wife who was the toast of London, and I loathed her. My second wife will need to be quite a different kettle of fish.”

What a complete and utter load of old horseshit, he thought wryly. Still, his words had done their job, and the fear was fading fast from Emmeline’s eyes. Thank God.

Wordlessly, she pointed a finger to her chest. “Me,” she mouthed soundlessly. He nodded. “You think I could be all those things?”

“All those things and more.” Emmeline gulped, then picked up her teacup and took a fortifying swig. “Do you think you could uphold your end of such a bargain?” he asked lightly. If not, he would have to think up some other bunch of conditions that she would find acceptable. Anything, he suddenly realized, to convince her, he could swallow. Except for lovers. He would never permit that. Not for Emmeline.

“Very well,” she said bravely, lifting her chin. “I will do it.”

He breathed out, finally allowing a smile to curl his lips. “Good,” he said.

“Lord Faris!” a surprised voice interrupted them. “I heard you were in town but could hardly credit it, as I know your scathing opinion of Bath.” The speaker gave a jovial laugh and shot a curious glance at Emmeline before dismissing her as beneath his notice. “As a matter of fact, I’m glad I ran into you, old chap, I wanted to ask your opinion on the favorite for the next race meet.”

Jeremy stood up. “How are you, Henry?” he asked, not really caring about the answer. “Miss Ballentine, allow me to introduce you to an old acquaintance of mine, Lord Fulsham.” Henry looked surprised by the introduction and turned and bowed. Emmeline came to her feet and bobbed a curtsey, her face a polite blank.

“Actually…” Jeremy tipped his head to one side. “Now that I come to think on it, you two have probably already met.”

Emmeline gave a brittle smile and Henry’s eyebrows shot up into his top hat. “Good lord, really? When would this have been?” he asked, shooting a puzzled look at Emmeline.

“Oh, it was a long time ago now,” she replied readily. “You will not remember, Lord Fulsham, and I am sure I do not blame you.”

“It would have been during the London season, ten years ago,” Jeremy volunteered.

“Is that so?”

“As a matter of fact, you can offer us your felicitations, Henry. Miss Ballentine has just agreed to marry me.”

“Good grief! The devil you say!” Henry forgot all about horse racing tips. Congratulations were proffered and accepted. “Good lord, m’sisters will be excited to hear this news,” Fulsham proffered, moving hurriedly off with a decided gleam in his eye.

“Why on earth did you have to tell him?” Emmeline hissed across the table once he was out of earshot. The door jangled as he left the shop.

“Oh, is it a secret engagement?” Jeremy asked innocently. “I did not realize.”

Emmeline glanced out of the window and paled. “He has just met up with a large group of fashionable-looking people,” she muttered, “and they are all staring in at us!”

“Dear me, how ill-bred,” Jeremy tutted, taking a sip of coffee. “Yes, now I come to think of it, old Fulsham is a bit of a gossip,” he lamented. “I suppose it was indiscreet of me but at least this way, when the Times announcement hits the streets, there will be some tidbit in circulation regarding how and when we met.” At her disbelieving stare, he added, “It shows our association is one of long-standing, and not the result of wild impulse alone.”

“From what I remember, you are decidedly prone to wild impulses!” she retorted, then looked stricken.

Jeremy could not hold back his laughter. “That’s all in the past now, Ballentine,” he assured her, nudging the plate of cakes toward her.

“The events of this morning would seem to refute that claim!”

“Let us return to more pressing matters,” he suggested placatingly. “Your engagement ring for one. I rather like sapphires…”

4

Emmie shut the door behind her and leaned back against it. She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths, summoning the courage to face Pinky with her shocking news. Her engagement to Humphrey was broken. She was instead now engaged to Lord Faris. They were going to be married in a matter of days. They would all be moving to Cornwall.

What in God’s name was she doing?

Too late for that. Instead, Emmie fortified herself with the thought of Thomas Hardiman and the other clerks receiving generous compensation for their job losses. There was also the comfort that her late father’s name would not be dragged through the mud as his company fell apart. Moreover, she and Pinky were no longer facing the possibility of being put out on the street.

Pushing away from the door, she made for the parlor, where she found her friend stood before the unlit fireplace wringing her hands. “Oh, Emmie!” Pinky blurted on catching sight of her. She took three steps toward her, scanning her face. Whatever she saw there caused her to promptly freeze on the spot.

“I have wonderful news, dear,” Emmie began brightly, ignoring her friend’s reaction. She walked into the room with a firm tread. “Our money worries are over,” she declared. Pinky’s mouth dropped open. “Also, we have cakes for lunch and likely for supper too,” she said, carefully setting down the box she had been clutching on the occasional table. “Lord Faris insisted on buying us ever so many.”

“Oh, er, most generous,” Pinky twittered distractedly. “How kind.”