Page 35 of A Foolish Flirtation

“I don’t know about that,” Emmie answered without thinking. “She told me the other day that she now considers you more in the light of a Fernando.”

Jeremy gave a choked laugh. “Me? The tortured artist?”

“I think it was more that she now considers Humphrey a villain,” she confessed in low tones.

“Ah, I see.” He nodded. “Yes, that makes more sense. So, I am redeemed by comparison alone.”

“I told her she had it all quite wrong,” she said dismissively.

His eyebrows rose. “So Humphrey, then, is not a villain in your book?” he asked.

Emmie shot a quick look about them. “My lord!” she protested, though mercifully, other couples were now taking to the floor and diverting attention away from them.

He did not take his eyes from her face. “Answer the question, if you please.”

“Neither of you are remotely Fernando-like, as far as I am concerned,” she said, pressing her lips firmly together.

“I suppose that is fair,” he said. “In any case, you are quite right, this is not a fit topic for our wedding day.” He glanced across the floor. “Just a warning, you will need to prepare yourself. Your next dance is with Atherton.”

Emmie managed to keep her expression a careful blank. “Yes, so I supposed,” she lied. She had not even considered the possibility.

He gave a short laugh. “Careful, Ballentine, you will make me jealous. I’m starting to think you dislike him more than you do me.”

She struggled a moment to answer, and then gave up altogether, staring instead at his cravat until the number ended.

“I believe we must swap partners now,” Atherton interrupted them, and Emmie was surprised to see he had been dancing with Pinky. She scanned her friend’s face but was relieved to find no signs of discomfort in her expression.

“Of course,” Jeremy responded, standing aside, and offering his hand to Pinky. “Miss Pinson.”

“Lord Faris,” Pinky responded, curtseying.

“Lady Faris,” Atherton said. Emmie accepted Lord Atherton’s gloved hand and the next number began. “Well, well,” he said at last, perhaps realizing she was not going to break the silence. “Here we are again.” His lips twisted. “Another waltz. Another dance floor.”

“I do not believe we have ever danced together before, my lord,” Emmie answered truthfully.

“You can hardly be surprised at that.”

She sent a rather cool look up at him. “Because I was such a wallflower, you mean?” It was true, her dance card had been far from crowded in those days. Still, it was pretty rude of him to bring that up now.

“Because I did not wish to get my neck wrung,” he answered laconically. “Perhaps you are unaware of Charlie Symond’s fate.”

Emmie considered this. “I do vaguely remember a Mr. Symonds,” she admitted. “He had very curly hair did he not? And perhaps an older sister married to a sir someone or other…?”

Atherton gave a short laugh. “Ask your husband to refresh your memory about him sometime.”

Emmie narrowed her gaze at him suspiciously. “You are annoyingly tall, my lord,” she said at last. “I am going to get a crick in my neck trying to converse with you and maintain eye contact at the same time.”

He smirked. “You clearly prefer a partner of only middling height,” he commented. “Fortunate considering your choice of husband.”

What choice? thought Emmie. Mind you, Humphrey was not a tall man either, so maybe he did have a point. “You are Teddy’s godfather, I understand?” she asked, casting about for something to say.

“I am, for my sins.”

“Do you often visit Vance Park?” she asked, gazing over his left shoulder. Please say no. Please say no. Please say…

“Not as often as I should,” he admitted. “Jeremy’s last viscountess made the prospect a chore. Perhaps you will make the occasion a less onerous one.”

“How did she…?” Emmie bit her lip. Good manners dictated that she should not ask.