Page 10 of A Foolish Flirtation

Humphrey? Emmie dragged back her chair at once. Stolid, respectable Humphrey looking “a right state”? This did not sound good. Immediately, Emmie’s thoughts turned to the business. Oh Lord, things must be in bad repair. “No, do not let this interrupt your breakfast,” she said quickly as Pinky set down her spoon. She did not want Pinky troubled with such matters until it was strictly necessary.

“I will see him downstairs in the reception room if it is available?” she said, addressing the question to Florrie.

Florrie nodded. “Oh yes, it’s quite free this morning.”

“Thank you. You stay and finish your egg, Hannah,” she said firmly as Pinky’s expression wavered.

She made her way downstairs, following closely behind Florrie, who kept up a stream of chatter about how shocked and disapproving Mrs. Chalfont would be if she could see the state of their gentleman caller. Emmie’s thoughts were far too disordered for consideration of her landlady to ruffle her.

“Yes, thank you, Florrie,” she said in dismissal as soon as she reached the door to the reception room. Florrie flounced away and Emmie let herself into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Humphrey, this is unexpected…” she began before she had even turned, then broke off abruptly when she did. “Humphrey!” she exclaimed weakly. “My dear, whatever is wrong?” While not as disheveled as Florrie’s words had led her to expect, he did not look well at all.

Though his sober gray suit was tidy as ever, his eyes were red-rimmed and his usually immaculate hair practically standing on end. He threw up a hand when she started toward him.

“No, do not attempt to…to comfort me, Emmie,” he said in a choked voice. “You must allow me some room in which to unburden myself. Please.”

She stilled, taking in his agitation. “Very well,” she conceded carefully. “I will take a seat here,” she said, motioning to a wing-backed seat at some distance from the fireplace where he stood, practically vibrating with suppressed emotion.

“Something dreadful has happened,” he started and then swallowed, as though past a lump in his throat. “I hardly know how to tell you, in truth, it is so very—” He bowed his head, then turned abruptly to brace his shaking hands against the mantel. “I need a minute,” he gritted out, flinging back his head.

When nothing was forthcoming over the loud tick of the carriage clock, Emmie cleared her throat. “Humphrey,” she said gently, “is it the business?” His shoulders tensed. “I know things have been—”

“It’s gone under!” he burst out, removing one hand from the mantel to cram a fist into his mouth.

“Gone under?” she repeated blankly.

“Hit the wall, smashed, gone bust,” he said, turning to face her with a sob. “Ballentine’s Trading Company is no more. It has collapsed in on itself.”

Collapsed? Emmie raised a hand to cover her mouth. This was even worse than she had feared.

Humphrey flung himself into the chair opposite her, driving his fingers into his hair. No wonder it was standing on end, she thought distractedly.

“So, we must cease trading with immediate effect?” she asked quite horrified. “Will there be—”

He jerked upright. “Cease trading? That is the least of our worries!” he said with a bitter laugh.

“The least of our worries?” Emmie was confused. Surely the loss of the business was tragedy enough. “How can that be?”

His color drained, leaving him pale as milk. “Not only has the company folded,” he uttered hoarsely, “but there is also a mountain of debt to make reparation for.”

Debt? Emmie’s stomach sank. Oh no. “Debt?” she whispered. “How much debt?”

“I hardly know by this point,” he admitted wretchedly. “At first, we borrowed to make up the shortfall, and then I—I took some risks— Your father, he always speculated, and I thought—” he groaned and buried his face in his hands.

She waited, while a cold feeling crept up her spine. Risks? Steady Humphrey took some risks? He must have been desperate indeed. “I cannot pretend this is not a severe blow,” she said numbly when he did not speak for another full minute. “But we—we must—find a way forward together.”

Oh heavens, she thought suddenly, what of their employees? Mr. Hardiman had worked for the firm for over thirty years! Then there was old Mr. Rigby, and at least five others. Were they to be out of a job without any severance package to ease their way?

Her head span. She needed to say something, anything. Humphrey looked in a flat despair. He was frightening her a little. “Perhaps, if we combined our household expenses then we could make some saving—” she started desperately.

He sprang from his chair and started pacing in front of the fireplace. “No, you do not understand.”

“I realize that bankruptcy is hardly the best start to married life but—”

“There can no question of our combining households or of marriage,” he said flatly. “You see, not only have I ruined your family business, but I have been on the verge of ruining you for years as well.”

“Ruining me?”