Page 21 of A Foolish Flirtation

She was no longer a stupid, naïve girl of eighteen whose heart raced whenever the Honorable Jeremy Vance entered the room. A decade had passed since that unfortunate incident in Lady Hawford’s conservatory. Her cheeks still burned to think of it. Resolutely, she thrust the memory away.

He probably did not even remember it. Doubtless he had kissed dozens of girls before and after his marriage to the beauteous Lady Amanda. She had no illusions as to his dissolute character. Only fancy, kissing her on the night his own engagement had been announced! Nay, worse than that, mere moments before the official announcement was made! She felt her face turn pink with indignation.

“Ah, you have a little color returned,” Pinky said with satisfaction. “For a moment, I thought I would have to fetch my smelling salts.”

Emmie forced a smile. “Nothing so drastic, I assure you. There is another cup left in the pot. Will you have it?”

“No, you help yourself, dear. I will have one of these excellent cakes instead,” Pinky said, peering once again into the box.

5

Against her expectation, Emmie slept soundly that night. Really, she must have been emotionally wrung out by the events of the day, for when she awoke the next morning, she spent a few disorienting moments unsure where she even was, let alone who she was marrying.

A quiet knock on the door proved to be Pinky, who was not only up and dressed but had also apparently been down to the kitchen to fetch cans of hot water for their morning wash. “You are up far too early!” Emmie protested, still in her threadbare dressing gown. “Do not dare to stir another step downstairs for I mean to do my part.”

“Nonsense!” Pinky replied roundly. “You made our breakfast yesterday, so it is only fair that I should take over this morning. Do not delay in your wash, for your jug of water will grow cold.”

She disappeared before Emmie could press the matter, so she made for the bathroom instead. Emmie was back in her room, washed, dressed, and just pushing in her last hairpin when she heard a knock at their outer door. Pinky’s hands must be full with the breakfast tray, she thought, hurrying out into the hallway to throw it open.

To her surprise it was not her friend bearing their morning meal, but instead a large, muscular man in footman’s livery. Standing next to him was a small golden-haired boy clad in a sailor suit complete with a matching hat sat atop his curls. She looked from one to the other in lively astonishment. “Good morning,” she said on finding her tongue.

“Good morning,” replied the child, looking up at her soulfully.

“Good morning, miss,” the footman said hurriedly. “I deliver this with the compliments of Viscount Faris.”

Emmie noticed at this point that he held out a thick-looking envelope. She took it from him with thanks and could not forbear looking once more at the boy. He was a vastly pretty child with golden locks and very blue eyes.

“Am I right in thinking you are Master Edward Vance?” she guessed.

“I am. Are you Miss Emmeline Ballentine, of whom I am so curious to meet?”

“I am Miss Ballentine,” she admitted. “Though no one ever calls me Emmeline.”

“My father does,” he corrected her.

“Well, yes, yes he does,” she was forced to concede. “But I wish he would call me Emmie as my friends and particular acquaintances do.”

He seemed to consider this. “I suppose I will soon be expected to call you Mama,” he observed sagely. The footman coughed loudly. “I wish you would not step on my toe, Colfax!” the child complained loudly. Colfax, who was good-looking and fair-haired himself, turned rather red.

Seeing Florrie’s face bobbing over the banister, all agog to learn who the visitors were, Emmie took a step back. “Perhaps you would like to come inside?” she heard herself offer hesitantly.

Master Edward’s expression brightened at once. “I would like that, yes,” he agreed, evading the footman’s sudden grab, and slipping past her into their rooms.

“You little—!” the footman muttered, then cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, miss,” he said in a more respectful tone. Emmeline gestured to him to come inside and after a pause, he followed. “Lord Faris only instructed me to deliver the envelope,” he said with misgiving. “And Master Edward promised that if I let him accompany me, he would be satisfied with just a glimpse at you!” Colfax sounded aggrieved. When agitated, his accent sounded a good deal more cockneyfied. “I might have known he would play me some trick,” he said bitterly.

“Well, there is no harm done,” Emmeline placated him as she led him into the parlor, where young Master Edward was looking about him with great interest.

“Papa promised me I could meet with Miss Ballentine yesterday, and then he went back on his word,” Edward pointed out. “So, it is only fair that I should spend some time with her today.” He directed a lofty look at Colfax as he sauntered over to the window to peer out at the street view below.

Seeing the footman visibly seethe, Emmie said apologetically, “The original plan was for us all to walk together in the park. Unfortunately, I had some…some rather bad news which meant I was not up to it that day.”

Colfax frowned and moved toward the window. Edward nimbly crossed the room to stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “What is this thing?” he asked, reaching up to fiddle with the tassels on the decoration over the mantelpiece.

“It is called a mantel scarf. My friend Miss Pinson made it. She is excessively fond of lace. Do you not have any like that in your own home?”

He thought about it for a moment. “No,” he said at last. “Except maybe in our housekeeper Mrs. Cheviot’s room. She has a small fireplace like this one, and she likes to put doilies under everything,” Edward explained artlessly.

“Ah,” Emmie responded. “It sounds as though they might have similar tastes.”