Page 53 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Why do you not have a key for your side?” she puzzled aloud. “What if I am agreeable and you are not?”

He gave a choked laugh. “Then, I suppose I simply would not try the door.”

“Yes, but—oh!” she said, feeling suddenly foolish. “Oh, I see.”

“I am almost afraid to ask at this point,” he admitted, “but what is it that you see?”

“Well, that you may come through the door to my side, but I may not pass through it to intrude on yours,” she said awkwardly, plucking at the coverlet.

He hesitated. “That is certainly the convention,” he agreed, “but I cannot imagine I would bar your way if you did venture my side of the door.”

Emmie opened her mouth to ask if Lady Amanda had never walked through. Thankfully, she suppressed the impulse in time. She felt faintly horrified with herself. She might not know much about married relations, but she knew such a question would have been highly indelicate.

“I thought I would give you a tour of your rooms,” Jeremy said casually.

“Rooms?”

He nodded. “All the ones on this corridor are your own private quarters.”

“Oh.” Good grief. “Are they all like this one?” Emmie asked, casting her eyes around the opulence of the bedroom. It reminded her of One Thousand and One Nights with its walls in a pattern of cobalt blue leaves and orange flowers. Hanging from the ceilings were many brightly colored glass lamps in the Turkish style and in the middle of the room was a low table surrounded by plump tasseled cushions.

He shook his head. “Heaven forbid. Amanda had them all done out in different themes. Whatever took her current fancy.” He gave her a smile. “You look rather out of place amid all this, Ballentine. Like you wandered in here looking for your maiden aunt.”

She threw him a startled look. “No doubt the excessive modesty of my nightgown is at fault.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” he agreed.

“It’s a very lovely room,” she ventured. “Won’t you be sorry if it is all changed on my account?”

“No,” he said. “I would be disappointed if you did not put your own stamp on the place.”

“Because the setting does not suit me?”

“Because currently it has no good associations for me,” he corrected her gravely. “Have you your robe?” he asked abruptly.

Scooting over to the edge of the bed, she glanced about for her trunk. “Um…”

“Your bags will have been unpacked already. He nodded toward a door painted with orange and blue flowers. “In there.”

Emmeline stood up and made for the door, her bare feet sinking into the luxurious rug. Instead of finding a closet, she found the door led into a huge dressing room, complete with several large wardrobes, empty shelves, and chests of drawers. A triptych of three large vanity mirrors lined the far wall, throwing back her reflection at her. He was right, she did look rather lost.

“Do we share this room?” she called back over her shoulder as she peered into one wardrobe and found her few dresses already hung up and neatly pressed.

“No, I have my own,” he answered from the adjoining room.

Catching sight of her dressing gown, Emmie hurried to retrieve it, wrapping it around her and fastening the belt. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted her humble carpet slippers on a fancy shoe rack and hoped the maid who unpacked them had not noticed their threadbare state.

She hurried back into the bedroom, almost bumping her head on a low-hanging lamp. “I’m ready.”

Jeremy was over by the window now, drawing back the orange velvet curtains to reveal tall windows. “What do you think of your view?”

Emmie moved to join him as it had been too dark to appreciate it the night before. Her room looked out onto a green vista dominated by what looked to be a miniature temple, surrounded by a grove of trees. “Goodness, what is that? A summer house? It’s very grand.”

“The folly,” Jeremy explained. “My father had it built on the occasion of his marriage. As a gift for his bride.”

“Oh! Did your mother like it?”

“I have no idea. They were divorced by the time I was two.”