Page 27 of A Foolish Flirtation

“They do, don’t they?” Emmie agreed uneasily. “They must be made of a new kind of glass for Madame has not charged me any new exorbitant amount. And look at these shoes,” she said, sticking one foot out from under her white satin skirts.

“Oh!” Pinky gasped again. “Such exquisite embroidery. They match your veil, Emmie.”

“Yes, and that’s not all,” Emmie said, lowering her voice. “You should see my drawers!”

Pinky’s hand flew to her throat. “Oh,” she said faintly. “Perhaps a French notion?” Anything slightly risqué Pinky always thought must be French. She had better not mention her corset, Emmie thought. Even she had been scandalized by the lack of whalebone. The stays she had worn during her London season had been so constricting they had creaked. These were so light; they did not pinch her at all.

Realizing she had left her handkerchief in the other room, Emmie made for the door, practically colliding with another person coming in.

“I’m so sorry—” she started to apologize when she looked straight into Jeremy Vance’s blue eyes. “Oh!”

“Ah, Ballentine, what providential timing,” he said, his hands lightly clasping her elbows as he steadied her.

Oh dear, thought Emmie. Oh dear, oh dear. Being in his arms was horribly familiar. She felt herself turn puce. “Were you, er, coming to find me?” she croaked foolishly, for what other reason would he be visiting a lady’s dressmaker’s?

“I was,” he answered with a slow smile. He still hadn’t lowered his arms, she realized, glancing about them. She wished he would. Two of the seamstresses bustled down the corridor past them and giggled. Doubtless, everyone would think he was embracing her.

“My lord!” Emmie blurted in astonishment. “You said two weeks, and it has only been twelve days!”

“My keenness lent an urgency to my task, and I swept all before me,” he said, dragging her into the room. Once there, he held her hands out to her sides, and swept an appreciative gaze down her body. Emmie’s breath stuck in her throat. As usual, his presence seemed to have sucked all the air out of the room. Her head swam.

“My God,” he murmured. “I knew you would make a beautiful bride, but this is almost too much.”

“Too much?” Emmie repeated in alarm.

“Too much for me to take,” he clarified, lifting one of her hands to press it to his chest. “My heart is threatening to beat right out of my chest.”

Emmie stared at him. He was joking, of course. She heard Pinky’s breathing hitch and forced herself to respond sensibly. “Thank you, my lord,” she replied, “but you are too effusive in your praise. And in any case, you should not see me before the wedding day.”

He glanced down at himself and then looked back at her. Belatedly, Emmie noticed he was wearing wedding attire of pale gray trousers, a silk waistcoat, and pale blue coat.

“You—you mean—?”

“Why that today is to be our wedding day, of course. We are due at St. Matthew in the Avon within the hour.”

“What?” Emmie squeaked, wheeling around to locate the clock.

“It is to be a three o’clock wedding,” he clarified, “and tomorrow we will set off for Vance Park.” As Emmie’s jaw dropped, he sauntered over to where Pinky sat among all the hatboxes. “Allow me, Miss Pinson. It must be this one, I think,” he said, lifting a silky lavender confection from some tissue paper and presenting it to her friend with a small bow. “I thought how well that shade would become you as soon as I saw it in London. I had gray gloves trimmed with matching buttons and an umbrella sent also. They must be here somewhere, I fancy.” His gaze traveled over the pile to pull out a flat pale blue box done up in ribbon. “Here.” He dropped it into her lap. “With my compliments.”

Pinky’s mouth dropped open. “For me? Oh, my lord, I—I couldn’t—”

He smiled at her. “Of course you must. You are to act as Emmeline’s witness, I presume?” He turned with a look of query in his eye.

“Of course,” Emmie said at once. “I could have none other.” Despite his high-handedness, Emmie felt touched by this attention to her friend. Perhaps he had understood her feeling on this matter after all. Pinky turned crimson, accepting the gifts with tears in her eyes. “So kind,” she murmured in confusion.

Emmie hastened to her friend’s side. “What a becoming bonnet, Hannah,” she said soothingly. “You must let us see you wear it.”

Hannah moved over to the mirror and drew it on. It did suit her with its pretty pleats and ribbon, though her friend would never have picked it out for herself. “You do not think it a little youthful for my years?” she quavered.

“You cannot be a day over thirty,” Jeremy interjected gallantly, which embarrassed Pinky greatly for she was fully forty years old.

“It looks so well with your coat too,” Emmeline said loudly, reassuring her friend and simultaneously shutting down the subject of age.

“It does complement it, does it not?” Pinky allowed cautiously. “Let me try it with the gloves,” she said shyly, unfastening the ribbon to the box.

“Here,” Jeremy said, passing two velvet boxes to Emmie. At her quizzical glance, he added, “Something old and something new is customary for brides, is it not?” The first box contained a long string of perfectly matched and lustrous pearls, far finer than the ones she had used to own. “These have been in my family for a while now. They were my great-grandmother’s and have been sitting in the bank for the past twelve months. Now they are yours.”

He took them from the silk-lined box, twisting the strand so that it was doubled and then clasped them around her neck. He nodded to the smaller box. “I bought you that in London.” Emmie opened it and gasped aloud at the fabulous diamond bracelet within. “Colfax told me you lost a bracelet to the pawnbroker’s, so now I have replaced it.”