A Foolish Flirtation (Reversal of Fortune #1)

9

Jeremy slept deeply until around five in the morning when he woke and could not get back off to sleep. Finally, he gave up all attempt and rose, careful not to wake the other occupant in the bed. Emmeline was a sound sleeper it seemed, for she did not stir, even as he dressed and let himself out of her bedroom. Unless she was pretending again, of course.

He found the bathroom from the previous evening, had a quick wash and brush up and headed down the stairs, feeling somewhat disheveled in yesterday’s attire. Fortunately, not even Florrie was around at this hour to let him out of the front door.

He emerged into the empty street below. Only the odd tradesman was starting his round as Jeremy started his brisk walk across town, his thoughts dwelling pleasurably on his newly married status. He had her at last. She was his and no man could put them asunder.

There had been moments in the past few weeks when he had worried that Emmeline did not feel for him as she once had. That her partiality for his company, once so obvious to all, had faded and her desire for him quite fled. But no, last night had reassured him that she still wanted him.

Her heated kisses had proved she still longed for him, even if she had learned mannerly restraint these past ten years. Restraint be damned. Jeremy wanted her to be always open and frank with him. Open and passionate and holding nothing back, like she had been that day in the conservatory when he had lost his head and thought to seize the moment with her.

God. It had nearly killed him when she had been so receptive to his kiss, so clinging and ardent when he knew as soon as it stopped that he would have to walk away from her and make that bloody announcement. No, he would not remember such bitter regret now, not when everything had finally turned out right.

What was it that Emmeline had said last night? That she would rather they made new memories? She was right. The bitter aftermath of that first kiss had likely tainted that for her, however much he treasured it. They needed to move on from the past and forge their way into the future.

Of course, he thought, his steps slowing, there had been that moment before the candle went out, when he had seen the doubt spring into Emmeline’s eyes. She did not believe that he had missed her all these years. He supposed it might seem a strange thing to claim when he had made no attempt to contact her in a decade.

In his defense, he had been married. Unhappily married but that was beside the point. He could offer her nothing respectable, and at the end of the day he had respected her, even as a rakehell of nineteen. Or as near an approximation of respect that one such as he could muster.

At that moment, an inconvenient memory arose. He seemed to remember a drunken conversation with Atherton that had involved his determination to seek her father out and make the man a dishonorable offer for his daughter. He winced. Admittedly, that had been far from respectful.

Thank God, his friend had managed to dissuade him from it, pointing out her father would hardly have borne the expense of a London season for his daughter to end up a kept woman. At least he could count on Atherton to keep his mouth shut about the whole disgraceful episode.

In all fairness, he could hardly blame Emmeline for doubting his dependability. Even the manner in which he had secured her hand in marriage had been, well, slightly disreputable if looked at in a certain light. He frowned, considering the matter. It was true, he had not coerced her exactly, but he had bribed and cajoled her into it.

Would it be so very surprising if she did not wholly trust him? He acknowledged to himself that it would not. Quite frankly, she had afforded him a lot of grace, considering his past conduct toward her. He would just have to work on building Emmeline’s confidence in him.

She was by nature affectionate and warm, so that was a point in his favor. He would just have to trust that, with time, she would come to trust him and that, where she was concerned, he could be depended on. His mind made up, his step once again gathered speed and before long he had reached his rented house in The Crescent.

He did not have to worry about rousing the household, for Colfax’s hulking presence was already haunting the front step, dressed immaculately in his powder blue livery. Initially, Jeremy suspected the fellow was indulging in a crafty smoke, but as he drew closer, he realized he had done him wrong.

No, in fact, his footman seemed deep in thought, staring off into the distance. Jeremy had a hand to the gate before he appeared to notice him. Once he did, he straightened up with a polite “Milord.”

“Good morning, Colfax. Thought I’d caught you smoking there for a minute,” he added.

His footman eyed him reproachfully. “I’d step out back for that, milord. What do you think I am, some kind of savage?”

Jeremy laughed. “Well, in any case, I am glad you are not outraging our neighbors,” he said flippantly. “I was informed yesterday that the lady next door is sister to a duke, no less.”

Colfax lifted an eyebrow. “Oh yes,” he said in noncommittal tone, but his attitude conveyed he was not remotely impressed.

“I’m starting to think our neighbor has offended you, Colfax,” Jeremy observed as his footman opened the door for him.

Colfax sniffed. “It’s no business of mine how your neighbors conduct themselves, milord,” he answered coolly, his words dripping with disapproval.

Jeremy deduced that the duke’s sister had fallen short somehow in Colfax’s estimation of what constituted a “real lady.” Colfax had a strange attitude when it came to that sort of thing, which sat at odd variance with his usual attitude in life.

For instance, Jeremy knew full well his footman had been raised in an East End slum and had had several brushes with the law before he had entered Jeremy’s service. At the time he had hired him, he had not considered this a disadvantage, for it was useful to have a man who could back him up in a tight spot.

Living the life Jeremy had in his twenties, it had been a decided bonus to have a footman who could comfortably deal with whatever debt collectors or enraged husbands turned up at his bachelor rooms demanding an audience.

Those were the days before he had succeeded to his father’s title and estate. In those days, Jeremy had existed on an allowance which often did not stretch the whole month. During that time, Colfax had been an invaluable member of his household; ingenious and resourceful, he had ensured the lines of credit were extended until the bills could be paid.

If not for Colfax, Jeremy would have lived half the month without candles for light or coal for the fire. It was true, he did not much care about the empty cupboards, for he could reasonably exist on the invitations out to dine, but no doubt his valet and coachman had appreciated the fact they were fed and watered on a daily basis.

Then had come his disastrous marriage, and Colfax had really proved he was worth his salt. For he had not liked Amanda. Moreso, the handsome footman had proved entirely impervious to Amanda’s alluring beauty. His dislike had been covered at all times with a veneer of politeness, but even Amanda, arrogant as she was, could not fail to pick up on it.

In the beginning, Jeremy had thought it might prove a problem, for she had believed Colfax a challenge to overcome. She had turned the full force of her charm on the footman, showering him with her attention, flattery, and trusted confidences.

When this did not move him, she had been by turn teasing and then coldly aloof. It made no difference. Colfax was indifferent and would not partake in her games. Mercifully at this point, Amanda had decided to be amused by it all. She called Colfax a puritan. She talked loudly of his disapproval of her in front of her friends, and they all laughed about it. She wanted him to dance with her when she was drunk.

It had been at this point that Jeremy had become aware of Colfax’s strange feeling on the matter, for he had asked him outright. Did he want to leave his service? Were things becoming too much for him, now Jeremy’s living arrangements had changed? No, and no. Then, in a lowered tone, did he loathe his mistress?

Colfax had cleared his throat. It was not his place to judge Lady Amanda’s character. Jeremy had insisted. “Indulge me this one time. I won’t dismiss you for a little plain speaking just this once.” Colfax had been silent for such a long moment that Jeremy had almost given up on a response, when he had said quietly, “She ain’t no lady, not as I see it. Not in the real sense of the word. Not how it counts.”

And that had been when Jeremy had found out Colfax’s peculiarity. Despite being rough around the edges himself, he liked respectable women, not fast ones. Amanda could throw her arms around his neck, half spilling out of her gown, demand he carry her to her bedchamber and ravish her, and Colfax would always respond with the utmost restraint and correctness. Hell, she could have danced naked in front of him, and Colfax would not have batted an eyelash.

It had been an astonishing revelation. Jeremy was not a fool. He knew Amanda had made a play for his closest friend Atherton, just as he knew Atherton had rejected her. However, Atherton would have done so out of a sense of loyalty to him, while Colfax had not even been tempted.

For a man who had been forced to lose at least one friend, a couple of acquaintances, and even his son’s tutor over his wife’s affairs, his footman’s disdain was a breath of fresh air. It had cemented Colfax’s position of importance with him.

Jeremy had increased his already generous wages, secure in the knowledge he need not feel unduly concerned when Amanda made another of her scenes. It was not a case of Colfax remembering his position, or where his duty lay. He simply was not attracted to her.

They were walking through the house now; Jeremy noted the neatly packed trunks and cases piled in the hallway. Colfax clearly had their move to Cornwall well underway.

“That Nurse Jopling’s left already,” Colfax commented as Jeremy started up the stairs.

Jeremy swung back around. “So early?”

“Her next post is in Hampshire, so she was eager to be off.”

“Ah, well, I don’t think Teddy will miss her somehow. They never seemed to really hit it off.”

Colfax mounted the stairs after him, clearing his throat. “Is that Miss Pinson going to be Master Edward’s new nurse?” he enquired, adding with just a trace of self-consciousness, “If I might make so bold as to ask.”

Jeremy sent a quick look at Colfax’s carefully blank face. Who had taught him that piece of politeness? Maybe it had been Garraway. The butler at Vance Park was always at pains to smooth Colfax’s rougher edges.

“Well, I’m hoping he is now well enough to dispense with a nurse altogether,” he answered. “Miss Pinson is an experienced governess, so the idea is that she can tutor him until I have decided what to do about his schooling.”

Colfax looked skeptical and Jeremy could not really blame him. It must be two years since Teddy attended Paverton Hall. Jeremy had not wanted to send him to boarding school in the first place, and when an outbreak of tuberculosis had occurred, he had likely been the first parent to send for his child’s return.

Teddy was young for his age, he had told himself. Then, too, with his parents’ divorce, scarlet fever, and now his remarriage, the boy had had a lot to contend with.

“He’ll run rings round her,” Colfax predicted gruffly.

“Most likely,” Jeremy agreed. “But as I say, it will be little more than an interim measure.”

“And then what?”

Jeremy halted before his bedroom door. Colfax was being surprisingly tiresome this morning. “As I said,” he responded irritably. “It’ll be a case of either a new school or tutor.”

“I meant for her,” Colfax said, glancing away.

“What?” Jeremy was startled.

“Miss Pinson,” Colfax persisted doggedly.

“Oh. Well, she’ll make her home with us at Vance Park, I suppose.” Jeremy shrugged. “The new Lady Faris has made her feelings on the matter clear.”

Colfax was looking at him rather hard, but Jeremy was bored of the conversation by this point. “Send my valet to me, would you?” he said, effectively putting an end to it. “I need a shave and a change of clothes.”

Strange to say, once he was leaning back in his dressing room, a hot towel wrapped around his face, Jeremy found himself pondering Colfax’s words. After all, had he not raised a rather salient point? What was to become of Miss Pinson? It had been made quite apparent to him that she was no mere paid companion.

Emmeline was considerate of her, relied on her, and turned to her quite naturally for companionship when Jeremy would much rather she turned to him instead. Would having Miss Pinson on the premises mean that Emmeline would continue to do so?

The thought was not a welcome one. Was there anyone else he could fob her off on? he wondered idly. The vicar was always trying to find new tutors for his hellions. Would Miss Pinson be able to restore order to Penarth vicarage? That was rather a good idea.

Then he remembered Emmeline had claimed the unworldly Miss Pinson was not fond of boys. Afraid of them, in fact, was the wording she had used. That was no good, then, for the vicar had two of them. He couldn’t remember their names. Was it George and Freddie? No, that wasn’t right.

Giving up on the names of the vicar’s progeny, Jeremy thought instead of Emmeline’s spirited defense of her erstwhile governess. He remembered her heartfelt words about “poor Pinky” winding up with some boisterous family somewhere up north. She had sounded so indignant. No, the vicarage was not a suitable place for the delicate Miss Pinson.

Where then was? Suddenly, he thought of the recently vacated cottage of one of his gamekeepers. His estate manager, Wallis, had mentioned it in his letter of two days ago. Somerton had been dissatisfactory all round and his disappearance one night was no great loss though he had left a slew of bad debts and disgruntled neighbors in his wake.

How should Miss Pinson like to become one of his tenants? He could easily claim that the governess position came with a cottage, and then simply let her remain there when Teddy went off to school. A place of her own would surely be desirable to one who had only ever had a room under her employer’s roof.

Yes, he rather liked that idea. Miss Pinson dealt with, he dismissed her summarily from his thoughts, sitting up as Carver approached, brush and shaving soap in hand. Before long he was washed, clean-shaven, and dressed in a new suit of sober hue, offset with a gold silk waistcoat and burgundy cravat.

He was inspecting himself in the looking glass when Atherton strolled into his dressing room. “Thought I had better come and bid you a fond farewell,” he said breezily. “I need to get back to London.” He cast a critical eye over Jeremy’s outfit. “Rather formal for a day’s traveling, aren’t you? I would have thought tweeds were more appropriate.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Atherton looked down fondly at his own gray pinstripe. “Well, I have a certain reputation to maintain. What is your reasoning?”

“That I’m not in the country yet and it’s still early days with Emmeline,” Jeremy replied, straightening his cuffs.

Atherton nodded thoughtfully. “You mean to distract her with good looks. Wise. One cannot flaunt one’s beauty in tweeds.”

“Why do you need to get back to London?” Jeremy asked. “Your uncle expecting you to dance attendance on him again?”

Atherton leaned a hip against a convenient dressing-bureau. “Sadly no, the old boy’s cut off my line of credit again. Didn’t I tell you?”

Jeremy adjusted his cravat. “No, what happened this time?”

Atherton sighed. “I refused his bride of choice, the bottled fruit heiress. Now he reckons he’ll marry her himself and beget a new heir.”

Jeremy turned to face him. “Inconvenient. You have the title, but he has all the money.”

Atherton gave a murmur of agreement. “I would gladly swap our circumstances but alas, such a thing is not possible. In any case, I have other fish to fry at present. Carstairs asked me to go into partnership with him on a gentleman’s establishment.”

“What kind of gentleman’s establishment?”

“Officially, a gin palace. Unofficially, a gambling den.”

“Won’t you need capital to invest in such a venture?”

Atherton cocked his head. “A certain sum, yes. But it would not be primarily money I would bring to the table. I would bring the prestige.”

Jeremy smirked. “Man cannot live on prestige alone. I could always—”

Atherton threw up his hands. “Do not say it, Faris. I do not borrow money from my friends.”

“Who said anything about borrowing?”

“Very well, then. I do not accept handouts from my friends.”

“It would hardly be a handout. You were one of the original investors in my stable, don’t forget. Bucephalus is still winning cups and looks set to do so for another couple of years at least.”

“I do not forget,” Atherton said lightly. “But I do not mean to draw any money from that pot just yet.”

Jeremy picked up his watch and slipped it into his pocket while threading the chain through a buttonhole. “Well, you know it is there should you need it.”

Atherton nodded. “Besides, I mean to come and sponge off you in a month or so in the summer, so you need not imagine you will miss me.”

“You are always welcome at Vance Park, as I think you know.”

Atherton nodded. “Oh, I know. But I think you need both time and space to court your bride. Re-insinuate yourself into her good graces as it were.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Jeremy asked with a wry twist of his lips. “I have some ground to recover, it is true. Any recommendations?”

“If you have not already, I would write and have Garraway take down your previous wife’s portrait in the blue sitting room tout suite ,” Atherton said promptly.

Jeremy snorted. “It was consigned to the attics months ago,” he assured his friend.

“I would have thought a bonfire more appropriate.”

Jeremy shot him a look. “She is Teddy’s mother at the end of the day,” he said mildly. “The only vestige I had of my own growing up was her portrait. It may be that someday, when I am dead and buried, Teddy or one of his offspring may want to hang it in the long gallery with the rest of their ancestors.”

“How maudlin.”

Jeremy smiled. “You might feel differently if your own title had been accompanied by such things.”

“Very likely,” Atherton agreed without rancor. “However, as it did not, we will never know. Uncle George inherited all the ancestral portraits along with the sense of familial piety. Consequently, I am entirely footloose and fancy-free.”

“Well, there are decided advantages to that, I am sure.”

“If I was you,” Atherton continued, ignoring this and picking up the previous thread, “I would offer her free rein over redecorating at Vance Park. Amanda’s tastes were rather extravagant. It may be that Emmeline would rather not write her letters in a sitting room masquerading as an Egyptian tomb.”

Jeremy winced. “It is not quite as bad as that, and besides, the décor of the viscountess’s sitting room is nothing compared to that of her bedroom.”

“Do tell.”

“Her inspiration was the seraglio in an Ottoman palace, complete with wall hangings, ceramic tiling, and Turkish carpets.”

Atherton blinked. “Good grief. Please tell me you have had the rooms stripped bare in readiness for their new occupant.”

“I have not,” Jeremy admitted. “There has hardly been time, but I am happy for my bride to redecorate at will.” He thought fleetingly of Emmeline’s rooms at Winkworth Street. Doubtless they had been furnished with thoughts of economy in mind, rather than personal taste.

Even so, he suspected that given a choice, her fancy would not run to the extravagances of the ancient world. He wondered idly what setting she would choose for herself if money was no object. He knew what he would choose for her, of course. Aphrodite’s bower, complete with attendant cupid statues, but doubtless she would think that just as opulent and inappropriate as his previous viscountess’s choice.

“What are you thinking of?” Atherton asked curiously.

“The Birth of Venus,” Jeremy answered unthinkingly.

Atherton laughed. “You mean to have her sleep in a scallop-shaped bed?” he enquired. “Dressed with sheets of seafoam green.”

“Why not? I’d rather like that.”

“I just bet you would,” Atherton said, shaking his head, “but I suspect your bride’s tastes run along more conventional lines.”

The same suspicion had crossed Jeremy’s mind, but it annoyed him hearing his friend say so. “You scarcely know her,” he pointed out irritably. “She is a great reader of novels and likes a good many fanciful things.”

A bookroom , he thought suddenly. That was what he should have installed at Vance Park. A bookroom which he could fill with all the latest novels so she would not miss the lending library here in Bath. His mood lightened. He would do it. It would be one way to woo and win her over, and he would think of several more.

“I take it inspiration has struck,” Atherton said dryly as Jeremy strode to the doorway and called for Colfax.

“You were right,” Jeremy admitted. “The viscountess’s suite at Vance is in dire need of redecoration. I can’t think why it never occurred to me before.”

When Colfax appeared, he gave him brief instructions to have letters written to several prominent designers and decorators in London. “Have it stressed it is a matter of urgency and that they must come to Cornwall immediately if they accept the commission.”

Colfax accepted the task without complaint, despite having several more pressing matters in hand at present, including their imminent vacating of the premises. “Very well, milord,” he said, and disappeared again, intent on his task.

Jeremy turned back to Atherton, who was watching him with an amused look on his face. “What?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh nothing,” his friend assured him. “I was just wondering where your viscountess is going to camp out while you have her rooms made ready for her.”

“I would have thought that was obvious,” Jeremy responded with a raised brow.

“However shall you bear the inconvenience?” Atherton drawled.

Jeremy could not quite hide his answering smile, however hard he tried.