Page 56 of A Foolish Flirtation

Really, if he meant to deprive her of Pinky’s company, the least he could do was provide his own by way of exchange! Making for the table, Emmie lowered herself onto the cushions opposite her stepson. “I wonder, Lottie, if you have heard anything of my friend Miss Pinson this morning?” she enquired.

The maid, who was kneeling now, was busy transferring items from her tray onto the table. “Oh yes, milady,” she said comfortably. “She’s taking breakfast with Mrs. Cheviot in her private parlor. Getting along famously, Annie said they were.”

“Mrs. Cheviot is the housekeeper here, I believe? I think I met her last night.”

“That’s right, milady, for thirty years all told.”

“What’s this? Bacon and eggs?” Teddy asked hopefully, peering under one of the silver cloches. “Kippers!” he pronounced with disgust. He lifted another lid and pulled a face. “This must be meant for the nursery, Lottie,” he said grandly. “Take it away.”

Emmie peered across the table to see what had caused his displeasure. It appeared to be a bowl of porridge. Lottie ignored his high-handedness. “This one’s bacon, eggs, and devilled kidneys,” she said, placing the dish next to Emmie. Teddy’s aspect brightened at once. Setting down the final few items, a pot of tea, a pot of coffee, a jug of cream, and a sugar bowl, the maid straightened up. “Is there anything else I can fetch you, your ladyship?” she asked politely.

“I think you must have thought of everything,” Emmie responded, looking down at the crowded tabletop.

“Another coffee cup, please, Lottie,” Jeremy said, sliding onto a cushion next to Teddy. Emmie’s spirits rose precipitously.

“Right away, my lord.” She curtsied and hurried out of the room.

Teddy sent his father a sidelong look. “You’re eating with us, Papa?”

“Simply enjoying the company, my son,” he replied, his eyes on Emmie as she took possession of the teapot.

“Tea, Edward?” she asked politely.

He nodded. “With milk and sugar. Mama—I mean, my other mama, would never let me eat in here,” he commented, peering into the little jars of jam, curd, and marmalade. He dropped one of the lids and sent it careering into the sugar bowl.

“I wonder why,” Jeremy said dryly, moving the milk jug away from him to safety.

“She said I always gave her a headache before noon,” Teddy replied, quite unabashed. “Do you get headaches, Mama?” This was directed at Emmie.

“Very rarely,” she assured him. “It is a good thing you have both joined me, for I could not possibly eat even half of this spread.”

“They are simply trying to ascertain your likes,” Jeremy replied. “What do you like, Emmeline?” he asked, fixing her with a very blue gaze.

“Tea and toast, and maybe an egg,” she answered, ignoring his pointed tone and reaching for the sugar bowl.

Jeremy smirked, pulled a plate toward him, and doled out half of the bacon and eggs for Teddy.

“Not that spicy sauce, Papa!” his son protested with a grimace.

“I know,” his father replied, carefully avoiding the devilled kidneys. He pushed the plate toward Teddy and then lifted another lid to reveal sliced toasted bread. He lifted this and set it down next to Emmie as she stirred her tea. Then he flopped down onto his side propped up by cushions, seemingly content to watch them eat.

It was such a strange setting, Emmie thought, watching Jeremy loll on velvet cushions in his golden robe. He looked like a character out of a picture book. A spoiled princeling in a magical kingdom. “This is rather fun, like having a picnic,” she commented aloud, buttering her toast.

Teddy grinned at her, his mouth full of egg. “Let’s have all our meals here,” he suggested hopefully.

“Certainly not!” Jeremy retorted. “How would you like it if we took over your nursery for every meal?”

“I should not care.” His son shrugged. “Besides, I rarely eat my meals there these days. I’m too big,” he boasted.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Do not listen to him, Ballentine,” he cautioned. “This is mere flummery. Teddy frequently takes his meals in the nursery though perhaps not as often as he ought. He is growing sadly spoiled.”

“You should not call Mama that,” Teddy said disapprovingly.

“Call her what?” Jeremy looked startled.

“By her surname,” Teddy elucidated, reaching for a slice of toast.

“Why should I not?” Jeremy enquired. “Do you not address your closest friend as Arbuthnot?”