Page 83 of A Foolish Flirtation
“Oh yes, the very thing,” Emmie agreed at once. Jeremy narrowed his eyes at her but nodded toward the undergardeners, who started making their way gingerly over piles of furniture to collect them.
Emmie looked around for Pinky and found her gazing about with her mouth wide open. It was rather like a museum storage room. “Have you spotted a pianoforte?” she asked, stepping carefully over a crate of assorted china.
“Oh, er, I hardly like to, um—”
“Here’s one!” sang out Teddy.
Emmie and Pinky moved toward him. “I think that’s a spinet,” Emmie said, looking at the neat little instrument painted all over with flowers. “Am I right?” she asked, turning to her friend.
“I think so,” Pinky agreed. “But I am sure it is far too valuable a piece to be allowed to leave the house.”
“If you will have use of it, my dear Miss Pinson, then by all means you must take it,” Jeremy interrupted them. “Instruments are meant to make music and if I am not mistaken, that particular spinet has not been played in many a year. It was my mother’s.”
“Oh!” Pinky looked aghast. “I would not dream of such a thing, my lord! Emmie, you must play for his lordship on his mother’s instrument.”
“No, Pinky dear,” Emmie said firmly. “You must not allow your fondness for me to color your memories of my musical ability or lack thereof.” She looked at Jeremy and pulled a face. “I cannot carry a tune to save my life.”
Jeremy merely laughed, directing the undergardeners to retrieve the spinet, brushing aside Pinky’s feeble protests.
“Now, what else?” he pondered. “I think we must have some kind of seating to retire to if we are to dine on cushions.”
Eventually a wide pair of spoon-backed mahogany chairs upholstered in mustard velvet were settled upon, along with a large “conversation settee” in green damask.
“Why is it called a conversation settee, Papa?” Teddy wanted to know.
“You see those extra sections at each end?” Jeremy asked. “Separated by arms and a winged back? They are for the chaperones to sit in, to make sure that everyone behaves themselves.”
“Is that really what they are for, Miss Pinson?” Teddy asked Pinky, slipping his hand into hers.
“Oh yes indeed,” she agreed vehemently. “We used to have one in our front parlor at the vicarage. A very fine French one with fringing and carved legs. Now, do be careful and watch your step here, Master Teddy.”
“Anything else tickle your fancy, Emmeline?” Jeremy asked. “No? Just the malachite table?”
She nodded. “We could take those colored glass lamps out of my bedroom to put in there too. That might look effective. Oh, and how about a painting or two for the walls?”
“What sort of thing do you think would match our eclectic theme?” he asked, making for the nearest crate of picture frames.
“Do you have any exotic seascapes?” Emmie asked. “Or perhaps a scene depicting the bustle of a Venetian marketplace?”
Jeremy looked doubtful. “I think there is a rendition of the Spanish Armada here somewhere,” he said, rifling through the canvases. “What about this one of a nobleman lounging under a tree?” He turned it around to show her. “It looks Jacobean.”
Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Ancestor of yours?”
“Oh, undoubtedly. Look at those turquoise tights. Only a Vance would think that appropriate tree-lounging wear.”
“I don’t like his beard,” Emmie objected, “and that collar makes it look like he has no neck.”
“It’s the angle he’s lying at,” he protested. “Besides, the fashion of the time was to look entirely neckless.” Emmie ignored him, making for the stack of paintings leaning against the nearest wall.
“What about this one of Judith removing Holofernes’s head?” he called after her.
“Sounds horrible,” she said over her shoulder without looking at it.
“My great aunt painted it. Judith is apparently a self-portrait, and the character of Holofernes was based on her first husband. Apparently—”
His voice faded as Emmie peered over the edge of the first canvas. Oh!
Suddenly he was at her side. “I forgot that was there,” he said ruefully, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back.
