Page 43 of A Foolish Flirtation

“That’s the way I like them,” he answered with perfect truth, sitting up to blow out the candle. He did not think he had ever been entirely honest about that before though, even to himself. Emmeline pulled a face. “I’m glad you’re back in my life, Ballentine,” he said impulsively. “I missed you.”

Just before he extinguished the candle, he had time to register Emmeline’s reaction, first surprise, then a quickly veiled disbelief. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, settling back down beside her. She did not answer for a moment.

“If Lily Skellern had not mentioned me in passing to your son, I daresay you would scarcely have remembered my name,” she said wistfully.

“That is simply not true,” he replied, feeling stung. “And she did not ‘mention you in passing.’ She took great relish in telling my son of my misconduct toward you. That is an entirely different thing.”

“Hmm,” Emmeline murmured noncommittally.

“Had you forgotten me?” he demanded. Again, she held her tongue. “I never forgot you,” he stressed. “I was just married to another woman. I assumed you would be married too.” He hesitated. “You should have been married, by rights. But all the same,” he softened his voice, “I am glad you were not.”

She was so quiet, he could almost believe she had drifted off to sleep. Almost. “What position do you sleep in?” he asked her quietly, deciding to let her get away with her rebelliousness this once. Wordlessly she rolled over to face away from him and he curled around her back, settling against the warmth of her body. The physical closeness consoled him for the sudden emotional distance. He would have to bridge that gap at some later point. For now, he thanked his stars to have her in his arms once more. It was enough, he told himself. For now.

9

Jeremy slept deeply until around five in the morning when he woke and could not get back off to sleep. Finally, he gave up all attempt and rose, careful not to wake the other occupant in the bed. Emmeline was a sound sleeper it seemed, for she did not stir, even as he dressed and let himself out of her bedroom. Unless she was pretending again, of course.

He found the bathroom from the previous evening, had a quick wash and brush up and headed down the stairs, feeling somewhat disheveled in yesterday’s attire. Fortunately, not even Florrie was around at this hour to let him out of the front door.

He emerged into the empty street below. Only the odd tradesman was starting his round as Jeremy started his brisk walk across town, his thoughts dwelling pleasurably on his newly married status. He had her at last. She was his and no man could put them asunder.

There had been moments in the past few weeks when he had worried that Emmeline did not feel for him as she once had. That her partiality for his company, once so obvious to all, had faded and her desire for him quite fled. But no, last night had reassured him that she still wanted him.

Her heated kisses had proved she still longed for him, even if she had learned mannerly restraint these past ten years. Restraint be damned. Jeremy wanted her to be always open and frank with him. Open and passionate and holding nothing back, like she had been that day in the conservatory when he had lost his head and thought to seize the moment with her.

God. It had nearly killed him when she had been so receptive to his kiss, so clinging and ardent when he knew as soon as it stopped that he would have to walk away from her and make that bloody announcement. No, he would not remember such bitter regret now, not when everything had finally turned out right.

What was it that Emmeline had said last night? That she would rather they made new memories? She was right. The bitter aftermath of that first kiss had likely tainted that for her, however much he treasured it. They needed to move on from the past and forge their way into the future.

Of course, he thought, his steps slowing, there had been that moment before the candle went out, when he had seen the doubt spring into Emmeline’s eyes. She did not believe that he had missed her all these years. He supposed it might seem a strange thing to claim when he had made no attempt to contact her in a decade.

In his defense, he had been married. Unhappily married but that was beside the point. He could offer her nothing respectable, and at the end of the day he had respected her, even as a rakehell of nineteen. Or as near an approximation of respect that one such as he could muster.

At that moment, an inconvenient memory arose. He seemed to remember a drunken conversation with Atherton that had involved his determination to seek her father out and make the man a dishonorable offer for his daughter. He winced. Admittedly, that had been far from respectful.

Thank God, his friend had managed to dissuade him from it, pointing out her father would hardly have borne the expense of a London season for his daughter to end up a kept woman. At least he could count on Atherton to keep his mouth shut about the whole disgraceful episode.

In all fairness, he could hardly blame Emmeline for doubting his dependability. Even the manner in which he had secured her hand in marriage had been, well, slightly disreputable if looked at in a certain light. He frowned, considering the matter. It was true, he had not coerced her exactly, but he had bribed and cajoled her into it.

Would it be so very surprising if she did not wholly trust him? He acknowledged to himself that it would not. Quite frankly, she had afforded him a lot of grace, considering his past conduct toward her. He would just have to work on building Emmeline’s confidence in him.

She was by nature affectionate and warm, so that was a point in his favor. He would just have to trust that, with time, she would come to trust him and that, where she was concerned, he could be depended on. His mind made up, his step once again gathered speed and before long he had reached his rented house in The Crescent.

He did not have to worry about rousing the household, for Colfax’s hulking presence was already haunting the front step, dressed immaculately in his powder blue livery. Initially, Jeremy suspected the fellow was indulging in a crafty smoke, but as he drew closer, he realized he had done him wrong.

No, in fact, his footman seemed deep in thought, staring off into the distance. Jeremy had a hand to the gate before he appeared to notice him. Once he did, he straightened up with a polite “Milord.”

“Good morning, Colfax. Thought I’d caught you smoking there for a minute,” he added.

His footman eyed him reproachfully. “I’d step out back for that, milord. What do you think I am, some kind of savage?”

Jeremy laughed. “Well, in any case, I am glad you are not outraging our neighbors,” he said flippantly. “I was informed yesterday that the lady next door is sister to a duke, no less.”

Colfax lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes,” he said in noncommittal tone, but his attitude conveyed he was not remotely impressed.

“I’m starting to think our neighbor has offended you, Colfax,” Jeremy observed as his footman opened the door for him.

Colfax sniffed. “It’s no business of mine how your neighbors conduct themselves, milord,” he answered coolly, his words dripping with disapproval.