Page 45 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Miss Pinson,” Colfax persisted doggedly.

“Oh. Well, she’ll make her home with us at Vance Park, I suppose.” Jeremy shrugged. “The new Lady Faris has made her feelings on the matter clear.”

Colfax was looking at him rather hard, but Jeremy was bored of the conversation by this point. “Send my valet to me, would you?” he said, effectively putting an end to it. “I need a shave and a change of clothes.”

Strange to say, once he was leaning back in his dressing room, a hot towel wrapped around his face, Jeremy found himself pondering Colfax’s words. After all, had he not raised a rather salient point? What was to become of Miss Pinson? It had been made quite apparent to him that she was no mere paid companion.

Emmeline was considerate of her, relied on her, and turned to her quite naturally for companionship when Jeremy would much rather she turned to him instead. Would having Miss Pinson on the premises mean that Emmeline would continue to do so?

The thought was not a welcome one. Was there anyone else he could fob her off on? he wondered idly. The vicar was always trying to find new tutors for his hellions. Would Miss Pinson be able to restore order to Penarth vicarage? That was rather a good idea.

Then he remembered Emmeline had claimed the unworldly Miss Pinson was not fond of boys. Afraid of them, in fact, was the wording she had used. That was no good, then, for the vicar had two of them. He couldn’t remember their names. Was it George and Freddie? No, that wasn’t right.

Giving up on the names of the vicar’s progeny, Jeremy thought instead of Emmeline’s spirited defense of her erstwhile governess. He remembered her heartfelt words about “poor Pinky” winding up with some boisterous family somewhere up north. She had sounded so indignant. No, the vicarage was not a suitable place for the delicate Miss Pinson.

Where then was? Suddenly, he thought of the recently vacated cottage of one of his gamekeepers. His estate manager, Wallis, had mentioned it in his letter of two days ago. Somerton had been dissatisfactory all round and his disappearance one night was no great loss though he had left a slew of bad debts and disgruntled neighbors in his wake.

How should Miss Pinson like to become one of his tenants? He could easily claim that the governess position came with a cottage, and then simply let her remain there when Teddy went off to school. A place of her own would surely be desirable to one who had only ever had a room under her employer’s roof.

Yes, he rather liked that idea. Miss Pinson dealt with, he dismissed her summarily from his thoughts, sitting up as Carver approached, brush and shaving soap in hand. Before long he was washed, clean-shaven, and dressed in a new suit of sober hue, offset with a gold silk waistcoat and burgundy cravat.

He was inspecting himself in the looking glass when Atherton strolled into his dressing room. “Thought I had better come and bid you a fond farewell,” he said breezily. “I need to get back to London.” He cast a critical eye over Jeremy’s outfit. “Rather formal for a day’s traveling, aren’t you? I would have thought tweeds were more appropriate.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Atherton looked down fondly at his own gray pinstripe. “Well, I have a certain reputation to maintain. What is your reasoning?”

“That I’m not in the country yet and it’s still early days with Emmeline,” Jeremy replied, straightening his cuffs.

Atherton nodded thoughtfully. “You mean to distract her with good looks. Wise. One cannot flaunt one’s beauty in tweeds.”

“Why do you need to get back to London?” Jeremy asked. “Your uncle expecting you to dance attendance on him again?”

Atherton leaned a hip against a convenient dressing-bureau. “Sadly no, the old boy’s cut off my line of credit again. Didn’t I tell you?”

Jeremy adjusted his cravat. “No, what happened this time?”

Atherton sighed. “I refused his bride of choice, the bottled fruit heiress. Now he reckons he’ll marry her himself and beget a new heir.”

Jeremy turned to face him. “Inconvenient. You have the title, but he has all the money.”

Atherton gave a murmur of agreement. “I would gladly swap our circumstances but alas, such a thing is not possible. In any case, I have other fish to fry at present. Carstairs asked me to go into partnership with him on a gentleman’s establishment.”

“What kind of gentleman’s establishment?”

“Officially, a gin palace. Unofficially, a gambling den.”

“Won’t you need capital to invest in such a venture?”

Atherton cocked his head. “A certain sum, yes. But it would not be primarily money I would bring to the table. I would bring the prestige.”

Jeremy smirked. “Man cannot live on prestige alone. I could always—”

Atherton threw up his hands. “Do not say it, Faris. I do not borrow money from my friends.”

“Who said anything about borrowing?”

“Very well, then. I do not accept handouts from my friends.”