Page 17 of A Foolish Flirtation

“I can return it for you.”

Setting down her teacup, she drew off her glove at once and slid an inconspicuous ring from her third finger. It pleased him that she did not look at it, just handed it over to him wordlessly before picking up her drink again.

Jeremy gave it a quick glance before pocketing it. It was an unprepossessing affair, an opal surrounded by a ring of garnets. Under such circumstances it was unlikely that Humphrey Stockton would expect its return, not after she had fruitlessly worn it for a decade. Still, he did not want her to keep it for a keepsake, so let the fool have it back and be done with it.

They partook of their refreshment a moment in silence. “I have heard opals are unlucky,” he mused aloud. “Are you, Emmeline, a proponent of the language of gemstones?”

She shook her head. “I know nothing about it, unless you mean those acrostic rings that spell out secret messages.”

“Secret messages?”

“You know, like ‘regard’ or ‘dearest.’ Each stone spells out a letter. So ‘dear’ would be a band set with a diamond, an emerald, an amethyst, and a ruby.”

Privately Jeremy thought such a clash of colored stones would look extremely ugly, but he nodded politely. “You would like something like that?”

“Oh no, I did not mean—”

“What secret message could we share?” he pondered.

“I rather dread to think,” Emmeline answered, making him laugh.

“How about Stefano?” he suggested, making her blush. “Sapphire, topaz, emerald—” he began, ticking off his fingers.

“I wish you would not joke so,” Emmeline said in a choked voice. “It—it makes me nervous and quite on edge.”

This gave him pause. “How so?”

She bit her lip. “It makes me fear that once again, this is all just a grand jest to you,” she said in a low, trembling voice, “and that I am once more the butt of the joke. That you, my lord, are not remotely in earnest.”

“Once again?” he queried, and Emmeline’s color drained as she set her cup and saucer carefully down.

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but I think I made a mistake coming here with you,” she started, pushing back her chair.

He reached across to grip her hand in his. “Emmeline. Don’t,” he said. “Don’t bolt. What can I say to convince you that I am completely in earnest?” Her hand trembled in his and she was breathing fast. Suddenly he wished he had not brought her to a respectable place like Hutton’s. He wished he could drag her into his lap and persuade her with a kiss or two.

“Have I not spoken of practicalities? Of the settlement of debts?” he coaxed reasonably. “Would it be more convincing if I spoke to you of personal attraction? I could, you know. I could easily speak of such things if it would carry more weight with you.”

“No,” she said quickly, tugging at her hand. Grudgingly, he allowed her to extricate herself. “I do not wish to hear anything of that kind, thank you,” she said firmly. “That kind of thing does not hold any water with me anymore. It is not real.”

Jeremy frowned. There were depths of feeling here that he had not fathomed. He wanted to argue the point with her but did not quite dare. She was poised for flight even now, he realized. “Very well, we will not speak of it, then,” he said lightly. “Instead, we will stick to plain statement of fact.” He leaned forward in his seat. “I mean to marry you, Ballentine,” he said slowly and decisively, “to settle your debts and make you my viscountess. Make no mistake about that. I do not speak remotely in jest.”

She stared at him a moment, then swallowed, inclining her head. “Because you want a quiet, convenient match,after your contentious divorce. I understand that part,” she reasoned, “but you see, marrying me will not make your reentry into society any easier. I have no social standing, no dowry, and by the time my season was over—”

“I had practically ruined you,” he cut in smoothly.

Emmeline gasped and shrank back into her seat. Clearly, this plain speaking was too much for her. “My lord!” she protested feebly, glancing about her in embarrassment.

“Well, which way do you want it, Emmeline? Sugar-coated or not?” he asked softly.

She hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Well…let us have plain-speaking for just this moment and then have nothing but politeness between the two of us forever after,” she blurted.

Jeremy felt the laughter bubbling up inside him but knew it would be a mistake to let it out. God, he had forgotten how much he liked talking with her. It was so strange how she still had the ability to make him feel like the world was a better place simply by being in her presence.

“Very well, let me make myself plain,” he said slowly, while his brain scrambled for whatever the hell it would take to convince her. He remembered her nervous question about London. “You will be precisely the kind of wife I require because you have no great love of London,” he started, “and possess little desire to make a splash in high society.

“My first marriage was not a success,” he continued grimly. “Neither of us were happy and certainly neither of us behaved well. In truth, my old and venerated family name has been dragged through the proverbial mud and I now mean to clean it up. I want a wife who will be happy to spend most of her time in Cornwall, mending relations with my neighbors and tenants, and strengthening our ties with the local community.

“I want the sort of wife who joins committees and espouses charities,” he lied. In reality, Jeremy could not care less about such things, but he knew lots of respectable ladies liked to dabble in worthy causes. Likely, after being powerless and without influence for so long, Emmeline would enjoy throwing her weight around in such a fashion.