Page 87 of A Foolish Flirtation

“Ever so lovely everything is, milady. Three day dresses of such pretty colors and two evening gowns that are as fine as any I’ve seen. There’s a quantity of undergarments as well, milady, all so pretty and delicate. I’ve pressed and put everything away in your dressing room.”

Emmie roused herself from her thoughts. “Thank you, Lottie, that was most thoughtful of you. Any combing jackets?”

“No, milady,” her maid said regretfully. “But there was a note that said a second parcel would arrive within the month, so there’s still a chance.”

“What about nightgowns?” Emmie asked, thinking of Jeremy.

“Oh yes, milady, and ever so pretty they are, trimmed with ribbon and lace and the most beautiful embroidery. I’ve set one on the bed for you.”

Emmie glanced over at the bed and saw a long white nightgown with capped sleeves and a low square neckline decorated in pink ribbon. It was certainly a good deal more revealing than her old one.

“There’s a new dressing gown, too, in a lovely pink brocade,” Lottie added, nodding to a peg on the doorway, “so you need not worry you will catch your death of cold.”

Emmie cleared her throat. “That’s a relief.”

“Shall I plait your hair into a braid for bed, milady?” Lottie asked.

Emmie considered this for a moment, her eyes straying to the connecting door. “No, thank you,” she decided. “I’ll leave it loose tonight.” She had already washed and brushed her teeth, so after removing her old dressing gown and the last of her underwear, she donned her new nightgown and returned Lottie’s good night as the maid departed with a neat curtsey.

Once alone, Emmie glanced at herself in the dressing table mirror. Maybe it was the candlelight flattering her, but she fancied the new nightgown was rather becoming. It was more tailored to her figure than the old one, which had been rather shapeless as well as buttoned up to her throat.

Fetching her new dressing gown off its peg, she admired the gold stitched flowers on the silky pink fabric before putting it on and walking to the door which led to Jeremy’s room. Was she really going to do this? She cast her mind back to their previous conversation on the subject.

I cannot imagine I would bar your way if you did venture my side of the door. That was what he had said. In truth, it had not exactly been an invitation. Then again, he had seemed rather surprised when she had even suggested the possibility of her venturing into his domain.

For the first time, it occurred to her that perhaps Jeremy was not much of an authority when it came to marital relations. After all, by his own admission, his first marriage had been rather a disaster and his own parents had been divorced before he was two. How would he know much about how they worked?

According to Teddy’s artless disclosures, his father had kept his side of the door permanently locked when married to Lady Amanda. Perhaps it was locked now, she thought, biting her thumbnail. There was only one way to find out. Extending her hand, she turned the handle. The door opened, and taking a deep breath, Emmie walked through.

Her first impression of the room was a lot of dark wood and green walls. Then she spotted him standing next to a large bed. Jeremy turned to look at her in surprise, frozen in the act of tying the belt to his black and gold dressing gown.

“Oh!” Emmie said, for she had been expecting him to be abed. “Are you going for a bath?”

“No, I’ve just had one actually,” he said, and she noticed his hair did look slightly damp.

“So, did I,” she confided rather awkwardly. After all the attics had been dusty. “Is your valet—?”

“Simons has retired for the evening. “That’s a very fetching dressing robe.”

“It’s new,” she said, turning in a circle for him. “From Madame de Flores.”

“It’s worth every penny,” he said admiringly. “Very pretty. Are you going to come in? Or just hover there by the door.” He walked over to the bed and sat on it, reclining against the pillows.

Emmie ventured further into the room, glancing about her with interest. “I like your room,” she said, noticing several bronze horses scattered around the room on small pedestal tables. Another voluptuous Venus hung on the wall opposite his bed. This one was partially swathed in red velvet, though still flaunting her naked upper body, gazing at herself complacently in a mirror held up by cupids. Yes, this was definitely Jeremy’s room.

“I hope there’s a new nightgown under that robe, Ballentine,” he commented.

“There is.”

“Care to show it to me?”

“Not yet,” she said, lowering herself onto a plush velvet seat.

He frowned. “Why are you sitting over there?”

“Well, I don’t like to encroach.”

His confused expression cleared. “Ah, so that’s it. You’ve come for Stockton’s letters,” he said, rolling onto his side and reaching for one of the drawers. “Here.” He tossed them onto the bed at his feet. “I should have given you them sooner, but it slipped my mind. I suppose they hold more sentimental value for you than your father’s letters did.” His tone was faintly barbed, though his expression remained aloof.