Page 68 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Plumtree Cottage!” Pinky declared triumphantly. “Is that not providential? Is that not a sign?” At Emmie’s blank look, she added, “Do you not recall my saying that a cottage is not complete without larkspurs and a plum tree?”

“Oh yes, of course,” Emmie hastened to assure her as Lottie clasped her diamond bracelet about her gloved wrist. She stood up. “Thank you, Lottie.” She turned to Pinky. “Shall we?”

Pinky kept up her excited chatter about the cottage as they descended the stairs together. “The current furniture such as it is, is not, well, not in good condition but I am sure that I can make do, and bit by bit I can—”

“Well, the furniture from Winkworth Street will be here any day now,” Emmie reminded her. “You must have whatever you want from that for your cottage.”

Pinky halted on her step, turning toward her. “Oh, Emmie!” she gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. “You must not think—I could not possibly—!”

“Nonsense, Pinky dear,” Emmie said firmly. “I am sure you noticed how stuffed to the gills this place is with priceless treasures. Jeremy has already called in goodness only knows how many decorators and designers. I have nowhere to put our old furniture! Certainly, you must have it. I’ll brook no argument on the matter.”

She tugged on her friend’s arm, dragging her down to the next step. “Now, by my reckoning, that means you have bedroom furniture enough for your two bedrooms and—”

Pinky turned to her and caught her in a spontaneous embrace. “You are far, far too good to me!” she said fiercely.

“Now, Pinky, don’t you dare cry!”

By the time they reached the hallway, both of them were a little misty-eyed. Jeremy was in full evening dress and looking very elegant as he lounged in the huge hall, awaiting them. His smile as he crossed the floor to greet them gave her the oddest sensation of butterflies in her stomach.

He was just kissing her hand and asking Pinky about her day when the knocker sounded loudly at the main entrance. He straightened up with a look of surprise.

“Did you invite anyone, Papa?” Teddy asked as he descended the last few steps in a blue velvet suit with a decorated collar.

“No,” Jeremy frowned. “Only—” He broke off as Garraway ceremoniously opened the door to reveal two visitors stood on the threshold. Three, if you included the baby the woman held in her arms. “Well, I’ll be damned!” Jeremy said loudly, in obvious astonishment.

The man coming through the door laughed, a rather harsh sound. He looked an intimidating sort, tall and broad and with a brash air which his red silk waistcoat and black suit somehow enhanced. “Well, it’s good to know I needn’t mind my tongue too much among such company,” he said dryly as they advanced into the hall.

“Come in, you’re very welcome!” Jeremy said, recovering fast. “I’m glad you came.” He shot an oddly agonized look at Emmie which she could not account for. “This is my sister, Mina, that I told you of,” he said in a low urgent voice. “And her husband, William Nye. He—”

“Uncle Nye!” Teddy yelled, flying across the marble floor. The man caught him up in his arms and swung him around once before setting him back down again. “Mind your manners, you ruffian,” he scolded, ruffling his hair. “Now greet your aunt in a civilized fashion.”

His wife, by contrast, was good-looking in a rather understated manner. She was tall and wore her brown hair in a demure roll at her nape and wore very little decoration save for a mother-of-pearl hair comb and a cameo brooch depicting the profile of an old woman with a determined chin. She bent down and offered her cheek to Teddy, who obligingly kissed it.

“I am glad to see you looking well,” she said calmly to Teddy. Then sent a challenging look toward Jeremy, which seemed to spur him into action. Offering Emmie his arm, they advanced to greet the newcomers.

“This is Baby James, Mama!” Teddy cried. “Come and see.”

Was it Emmie’s imagination, or had the lady paused at hearing him address her as Mama? She felt a sudden misgiving. Perhaps Jeremy’s sister had been close with his former wife. Garraway was helping her to remove her cape and bonnet as Nye took the baby from her with a practiced move. Emmie noticed he wore no hat atop his black hair.

Suddenly, his likeness struck her, and she drew in a swift, sharp breath. She could not help the glance she darted toward the portrait of Jeremy’s father. If nothing else, she had to check the fourth viscount had not stepped down out of the canvas to join them. But no, he was still there, gazing coldly out of his gold frame.

Jeremy’s fingers briefly clasped hers in a warning squeeze, and she knew he must have noticed her stealing a look. Plastering a smile to her face, Emmie braced herself as the various introductions were made. Neither Mrs. nor Mr. Nye appeared shocked when she was introduced as Jeremy’s wife, though they both subjected her to rather hard stares and she was informed that he answered to “just Nye, forget the mister.”

Instantly, Emmie wished she was not currently flaunting every piece of jewelry she owned. It was a funny thing, but she had left her bedroom, anxious that her finery drew attention away from her faded silk gown. Now she wished for the opposite effect. Mina’s understated gown of lavender silk and her cool politeness made Emmie feel ostentatious and showy.

Jeremy’s sister was so different to him! She tried to remember what Mrs. Cheviot had told her earlier that day. Mrs. Nye had been raised somewhere other than Cornwall and had been the result of his mother’s second marriage. That meant they had different fathers, of course, which made sense considering who Mr. Nye’s father must blatantly have been.

No, she should not presume, she told herself as the first course was served, a cream of asparagus soup. He could perhaps be a cousin or some such thing. Then she remembered Mrs. Cheviot saying Mina’s husband was an innkeeper. That seemed to suggest that the connection to the Vance family was not such a close one. Emmie’s head reeled as she tried to puzzle it out. She hardly knew what to think.

A steady trickle of conversation was held throughout as Mina asked after Teddy’s health and where they had stayed in Bath, and which spots they had visited. Jeremy’s sister was very familiar with the town, having lived there for a good many years since childhood.

Jeremy drew Emmie into the conversation by explaining she, too, had lived in Bath and she and Pinky happily shared their favorite spots, mostly tea shops and bakeries. Mina spoke encouragingly of the Natural History Museum and the Botanical Gardens and some mutual ground was found in that they all admired the Royal Victoria Park.

Only one section of the huge dining table was in use, so at least they were sat close enough that none of them needed to shout. Then again, Emmie could see that Pinky was suffering acutely, sat as she was opposite Mr. Nye, who possessed that type of alarming masculinity that her friend shrank from the most.

It was curious, for though he spoke the least, he managed somehow to make his presence felt through a series of grimaces, snorts, or eloquent shrugs. Funnily enough, Emmie did not think that Mr. Nye was terribly at ease either. The next course was the fish course, filet de soles and lobster rissoles. Nye did not bother with the fish knife and fork though he tucked in heartily to the baked salmon in a hollandaise sauce.

He frequently tugged at his collar and shrugged his big shoulders as though he found his coat constricting. After the main course was served, a braised beef with roasted vegetables, he finally asked his wife if he could remove “the damned thing” and no sooner had she assented than he shrugged it off, dragged off his necktie, popped open the top collar of his shirt, and started rolling up his sleeves.