Page 29 of A Foolish Flirtation

They managed to disembark from the carriage with only minor difficulties involving the length of Emmeline’s veil. Miss Pinson caught it up at the back like a bridesmaid to avoid dirtying it in the street.

Emmeline hitched up her wide skirts and they were just maneuvering her through the church gate when his friend Atherton walked around the side of the church, top hat at a jaunty angle atop his head of gleaming black hair. He was smoking with one hand and carrying a box of spring flowers in the other.

“Picked them up as arranged,” he drawled, thrusting the flowers under Jeremy’s nose. “Apparently, it’s a little early in the season for orange blossom.”

“You remember Atherton, I’m sure,” Jeremy said, taking the flowers and passing the bouquet to Emmeline, and a nosegay to Miss Pinson.

“Er, yes,” Emmeline agreed, looking far from thrilled to be reacquainted. “Lord Atherton.” She dipped a curtsey and Atherton waved his cigarette and gave her an ironic bow.

“God, it’s been years,” he replied, blowing out a plume of smoke. He looked Emmeline up and down critically. “You’ve worn well, Miss Ballentine,” he said, discarding his cigarillo as Jeremy passed him a flower for his lapel.

“This is Miss Pinson, Emmeline’s oldest friend.”

Atherton’s eyebrows rose but he bowed again, simultaneously fastening the peony to his coat. “Delighted,” he drawled.

Miss Pinson, her hands full of flowers, umbrella, and veil, still managed a passable curtsey.

“Hello, Teddy, you repugnant brat,” Atherton commented, his eyes falling on his godson.

As Jeremy was pinning a peony to his lace collar, Teddy’s response was restrained. “Hello, revolting godfather,” he sang out.

Atherton turned to Jeremy. “Shall we go in?”

“You go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment.”

“Oh, very well, be like that.” Atherton shrugged and took off with his long-legged stride. “See you inside,” he said with an airy wave.

Jeremy turned back to Emmeline. “Could you spare me a flower from your bouquet?”

She extracted one and obligingly pinned it to his coat. “Is Lord Atherton acting as your groomsman?” she asked, a slight wobble in her voice.

“He is.” Suddenly, it occurred to him that she might not have the fondest recollection of his friends. He opened his mouth to ask if she had any objection but then closed it again. After all, it was a little late in the day for that.

Instead, he took her cold hands in his. “I have seen to all your business in London, Emmeline,” he told her in a low voice. “Should I have brought you proof that I have discharged all obligations honorably? I have it and can fetch it now if you deem it necessary.”

“No, of course not!” she said quickly, color rushing into her cheeks. “I did not doubt that for one minute.”

“Then why…?” he started to ask but did not have the courage to continue. Why do you suddenly look so full of misgivings? Damn it, maybe bringing London folk had been a mistake, but he had not wanted to marry her in an underhand fashion, as though he had something to hide.

“It will be easier all around if we are legally wed before I carry you off to the wilds of Cornwall,” he murmured, squeezing her hands lightly. “For traveling purposes, your reputation and mine.”

Her eyes looked searchingly into his and Jeremy steeled himself to look honorable and dependable, two ideals he had never aspired to live up to.

“Of course,” she agreed, but he could see her heart wasn’t in it. He felt a pang in his own. “You had better go inside,” she said. Jeremy hesitated. She would not bolt, would she? Suddenly, he was the one flooded with doubt. Emmeline held out her hand to Teddy and they clasped hands. “We won’t be far behind you,” she reassured him with a brave smile.

Jeremy gazed at her intently, found he believed her, and only then turned and headed up the church steps.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, though his bride’s fingers clutched sporadically at his sleeve, and she did not look so much blooming, as frozen stiff. Jeremy found himself profoundly grateful that Emmeline spent the whole time facing forward and did not gaze about at the strange mix of guests he had assembled. He was wondering now about the wisdom of that.

It could not last, of course. As Jeremy whisked her out to his waiting carriage, he was sure she was afforded many glimpses of the assembled company. He saw her nod at Fulsham beaming ear to ear and accompanied by his two gossiping sisters, and how her eyes widened at the huge plumage of feathers atop the hat of Jeremy’s sour-faced godmother, Lady Wickford.

He helped Emmeline inside their carriage and climbed in behind her, slamming the door shut as the window was pelted with rice. “The Guild Hall, Juggins!” he called and the carriage lurched off. He held a hand up and smiled at their well-wishers.

“Is that Lily Skellern?” Emmeline asked in a dazed voice, staring out of the window.

“Technically her name is Arbuthnot now,” Jeremy reminded her. Lily Arbuthnot looked as though she was suffering from indigestion. Jeremy smiled at the memory of delivering her invitation. He had been sure to give that one by hand. She had looked as though she might pass out from the shock.

“And who is that stood next to her?”