Page 20 of A Foolish Flirtation

Pinky nodded briskly. “Yes, to Lord Faris,” she said bracingly. At Emmie’s startled look, she added with a little cough, “I did hear his offer of marriage to you this morning, dear, if you recall? When I came downstairs to check on you.” She averted her eyes tactfully and took another sip of tea.

Emmie felt the hot color flood back into her face. How about it? That was what he had said. Hardly the most formal and flowery of proposals. She dreaded to think what Pinky, always so upright and proper, would have made of such an offer. “Yes,” she said lamely. “He also offered to pay off any debts Papa’s company has incurred and to award compensation to the employees who will now find themselves out of a job.”

Pinky inclined her head. “Now that was nicely done of him,” she conceded. “And must have held a great deal of sway in your decision to accept his suit.”

“Well…yes,” Emmie admitted.

Pinky took a deep breath. “You acted as you saw fit, my dear, and I am sure no one could blame you. You must not worry about what will happen to me. I have my profession to sustain me, and I am sure—”

“No, no, Pinky, you must not think of leaving me,” Emmie said quickly. “I have already spoken to Lord Faris, and you are to accompany us to Cornwall.”

Pinky blinked owlishly. “Cornwall?” She faltered.

“Yes, for that is where his seat lies.”

Pinky set down her cup and saucer with a rattle. “Am I to understand my services will be retained?” There was a wobble in her voice, and she made haste to retrieve a handkerchief from her sleeve as emotion overcame her.

“I cannot part with you after all this time,” Emmie said gently as Pinky dabbed at her watery eyes. “You are not just my closest friend but must count as family by this point.”

“Oh, Emmie!” Pinky quavered.

“I am afraid you will have to take up some governess duties to Lord Faris’s son, for a while at least,” Emmie admitted in a rush. “But with me around, I hope it will not prove too onerous a task. In any case, it seems he will be going away to school at some point in the not-too-distant future.”

“Oh! So, there is a son,” Pinky murmured, looking momentarily surprised. “I had supposed…” Her words trailed off and something else seemed to occur to her. “There is only the one boy, I take it?” she asked in faltering tones.

“Yes. Master Edward Vance, aged nine years.”

Pinky gulped. “I am sure I can manage,” she said bravely. “And Cornwall is meant to be so very beautiful. Perhaps I could take up my watercolors again,” she said, perking up.

Emmie smiled perfunctorily. “Perhaps you could tutor young Edward in the art?” she suggested. “And you could take little field trips together to find the best scenery?”

Pinky blanched a little at the thought of venturing out of doors with her young charge. “Er, yes,” she agreed nervously. “Perhaps you could even accompany us on occasion, Emmie dear? I am sure the fresh air would be greatly beneficial.”

“Perhaps,” Emmie agreed cautiously, for she had never been any good at painting. She was just glad to see her friend, who always suffered greatly at any change in circumstances, making plans. It heartened her and made her feel a good deal better about the choices she had made.

It was not that she had expected outright condemnation, but she had anticipated a shocked and quiet sort of disapproval from her. It would have been only natural. Pinky was such a cautious and proper person, and this wedding was going to proceed with almost indecent haste.

Emmie felt the greatest relief that her friend was being so philosophical about it all. “Shall we open the cakes?” she suggested, despite having no appetite.

“Oh yes,” Pinky agreed, though Emmie was not sure she would manage a whole cake due to her nervous energy. “Oh my!” she blurted on lifting the lid and seeing just how many cakes the box contained.

“I did warn you,” Emmie replied. “I told Lord Faris of our Friday tradition of treating ourselves, and he seemed determined to indulge us.”

“These would last us a whole week!”

“Look at this,” Emmie said, extending her left hand. The sapphires flashed. “I think going overboard might be a personality trait where he is concerned.”

Pinky gaped at the ring. “Good lord!” she uttered faintly. “It must be worth a fortune!”

Emmie looked down at it. “Yes,” she agreed quietly. It still did not seem real to her. Not one bit. Then a horrible thought flashed into her mind. What if it was all some horrible sort of hoax? Like Jeremy Vance seeking her out at all those debutante balls and dancing with her, giving her his attention and then… She gasped, and balled her hands into fists so hard her nails bit into her palms.

She had known all along that he was making a May game of her, but she had gone along with it anyway, because the giddy pleasure of dancing with him had almost made the misery of her social debut worth it. Goodness gracious, what a little fool she had been! Was she still a complete fool where he was concerned? A nasty feeling lurked in the pit of her stomach, telling her it was so.

“Emmie?” Pinky was leaning forward and pressing her hand. “You look a little green around the gills, dear. Are you feeling well?”

“It’s nothing. Just, well, this morning I woke up engaged to one man, and tonight I go to bed affianced to another,” she said unevenly.

Of course it was not an elaborate hoax, she told herself sternly, feeling the weight of his ring on her finger. He had ulterior motives in marrying her, just as she had for accepting him. He wanted her to help clean up his tarnished image. She needed him to discharge her debts. They would have a perfectly sensible marriage of convenience. That was all.