Page 34 of A Foolish Flirtation

What a joke. Even the name. No one called her that. No one had ever called her that. Yet her father had been insistent that for her coming out, she would be known by her christened name “among all the fine folk.” He had not anticipated all the tittering behind fans that her rhyming name would cause. Emmeline Ballentine.

Sounds rather like a nursery rhyme character was what Lord Atherton had announced once at a garden party in his well-bred, bored voice. Everyone had laughed and Emmeline had pretended not to hear him. Like someone who lives in a shoe or rolls down hills or something equally absurd.

Then Emmie had been subjected to a lot of very silly comments for weeks, like Have you any wool? or Sitting in the corner again, Miss Ballentine? I vow your name should be Jack Horner! Of course, it had not been Lord Atherton who had carried on the jest. In his aloof way, he most likely had been barely aware of it. He had certainly thought her beneath his notice for the most part.

He had spawned such comments though, and she blamed him for the whole debacle. Remembering how heartily she detested his supercilious manner and unspeakable hauteur, she felt rather sick. Would she be expected to mingle with him on a regular basis now she was Lady Faris? Horrible thought!

Stupid of her not to anticipate such social obligations as part of her new role. Lord Atherton had always been thick as thieves with her new husband. Somehow, though, the way Jeremy had spoken of his tarnished reputation, she had imagined him quite estranged from his former circle of elites.

No doubt his former wife was the one ostracized, she reflected darkly. She had not received a good impression of Amanda Liversedge during their debut. The glittering beauty had seemed cold and standoffish, and Emmie did not think she had bothered to exchange a single word with the daughter of a city trader.

Still, she had not gone out of her way to persecute Emmie, which was something she could not say of her former husband. Emmie’s husband now. Oh God, what had she done? It had been bad enough all those years ago, but at least she had youth then to excuse her arrant stupidity. This time around she did not even have that! She felt like the worst kind of fraud sat among all this company decked in satin, diamonds, and pearls.

She was a fraud! Half the people here thought her a cossetted bride. God only knew what the other half thought. Perhaps they thought her father’s brass had finally bought her a title? Or would they be only too aware of the sad demise of Ballentine’s Trading Company?

Lily Skellern certainly knew, or whatever she was called nowadays. Emmie had seen her about the streets of Bath many times and been summarily snubbed by her at any time these past two years. Lily would certainly not keep any secrets for her sake. She would glory in telling anyone who asked.

Then again, the likes of Fulsham’s sisters might find that heightened the romance, with her being swept off her feet and rescued from poverty. So perhaps Lily would not tell people after all. They would likely not find it romantic how she had been engaged for years to a married man though, she thought with a sudden clarity.

What if the likes of Lily Skellern ever found out about Humphrey? a nasty, cold little voice whispered in her head. What if people found out that Emmie had been strung along for years by a man who had never harbored the smallest intention of marrying her? A cold shiver passed down her spine. That certainly would be humiliating.

Then again, it was unlikely that Jeremy would have told even Atherton about that. At least, she hoped to God he had not. The fewer people who knew about that the better. A smattering of applause broke out, and Emmie realized she had not been attending to the close of Atherton’s speech.

Her eyes sought out Pinky, who was still smiling and nodding, so it could not have been anything to her detriment. In fact, it seemed the speeches were finally at an end, thank goodness. The murmur of conversation started up and the quartet started to play once more. She jumped when Jeremy’s hand slid over hers to cut the first slice of the wedding cake.

“You feel cold, Ballentine,” he murmured as they cut into the firm plum cake. For some reason, the fact he still called her that was strangely comforting. Everyone clapped, and attendants stepped forward to take over the distribution of the cake. “Hopefully the dancing will warm you up.”

“Dancing?”

“I have requested a couple of waltzes to start. I don’t know why you look like that, you were always a good dancer,” he had the nerve to say.

Emmie did not see how that could be true when she had been so oblivious the whole time to her own footwork. She had a nasty suspicion she had spent the whole time staring at his face filled with equal parts terror and happiness. Lord, how she wished she could just forget her former folly.

“I have not had much occasion for dancing these past few years,” she admitted as he led her into the middle of the room. Their guests were all drifting now in that direction to watch them.

“Well, if you permit yourself to be led by me, I will be content,” he answered with a smile. Emmie felt all of a jitter. It was like the years had fallen away. All day she had had one foot in the past and one in the present. Dancing with him again seemed to really compound the sensation. She steeled herself as he passed his arm about her.

“Well, this takes me back,” he said with a decided glint in his eye. Emmie did not respond; her eyes were darting about the circle of people forming around them. “Forget them,” he said softly. “Ready?” She gave a terse nod, and they began to glide around the floor. “You see?” he encouraged her. “You are still as light on your feet as ever.”

“Well, I have not yet trampled on yours if that’s what you mean,” she said dampeningly.

His smile broadened. “It’s been too long since I held you in my arms, Ballentine.”

“Now you sound very like Count Stefano,” Emmie told him. “Next you will tell me you like a woman with spirit.”

He laughed. “Why not? For all his failings, I daresay you preferred the wicked count to that milksop Fernando.”

Emmeline almost missed her step. “You have not—? No, you could not have…” She faltered.

“Read it? But of course I have. I went straight to the bookshop and secured a copy. I read it avidly every night during my London sojourn. I made notes to discuss it at great length with you.”

“You did not!” Emmie protested. “How could you even have deduced the title?”

“Are you impressed? It was not so very hard once I had the villain’s name.”

“Well…I suppose I am a little taken aback that you would go to such trouble.”

“It was no trouble at all. I would go to much greater lengths, I assure you. Besides, we must have something I can discuss amicably with Miss Pinson during our four-day journey to Penarth. I can see she still distrusts me, and I need to win her over.”