The Redemption of Julian Price(25)

“It is a man’s world, my dear. They make the rules. The only way for a woman to achieve happiness is to learn how to bend them to our will.”

“The men or the rules?” Henrietta asked.

Lady Cheswick smiled and inclined her head to the tea tray. “Would you pour please?”

“Henrietta Houghton!” Both women startled as Harry barged into the morning room, his face as purple as a beet. “A young woman does not go about town randomly proposing to chaps! It’s just not done, I tell you!”

“I see you’ve spoken to Julian,” Henrietta replied calmly. “Would you like a cup of tea, Harry?”

“No! I don’t want any bloody tea! I want you to come to your senses and return home at once.”

“As it happens, I will be returning home in two days’ time . . . with Julian,” she replied, setting down the porcelain teapot. “One lump or two, my lady?”

“Three,” Lady Cheswick replied. “And don’t spare the milk. Is your brother always so excitable? While I find it highly entertaining, one wonders if he might be at risk for an apoplectic seizure.”

“Harry’s generally a jovial chap,” Henrietta assured her aunt. “To be honest, I’ve never seen him quite like this.”

“What the devil are you thinking, Hen?” Harry continued his rant. “Julian is not husband material. He has nothing to offer you.”

“I am quite aware of his circumstances,” she said. “But thanks to Lady Cheswick,” she smiled at her great-aunt, “I am now in a position to help him.”

“But why, Hen? I know he’s a childhood friend, but he’s entirely inappropriate. If you have taken it into your head to marry, there are any number of eligible chaps—”

“I wish to marry Julian,” she reaffirmed. “Please sit down, Harry,” Henrietta urged, “and let us discuss this calmly.”

“But why Julian?” he asked, still looking incredulous. “He has no money, is about to lose his properties, and has even sold his commission. I know we’re longtime friends, but the man has absolutely nothing to recommend him.”

“Nevertheless, I believe we will suit one another,” she replied.

He turned to Lady Cheswick. “Is there nothing you would do to dissuade her?”

“No, my boy, I would not dissuade her. Although it was not done so in my day, Henrietta has every right to decide who she binds herself to for life.”

Harry flung himself into a chair with a groan. “You are making a mistake, Hen.” He shook his head. “A terrible mistake.”

Henrietta rose and crossed the room to her brother, teacup in hand. “While I truly appreciate your concern, what transpires between Julian and me is our business alone.”

“But I am the head of the family,” he protested. “It’s my responsibility to protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection, Harry. I have reached my majority. Whatever you may think, I now have the legal right to decide what is best for me. My life is my own to live or to ruin however I wish. Why can’t you accept my decision and wish us happy?”

“You know I cannot,” Harry said grimly.

“But Julian is your friend too!”

“He was . . . until he did this dastardly thing,” Harry said. “Henceforth, he is dead to me. Pray think carefully before you do this, Henrietta. If you go through with the marriage, you may also consider yourself dead to the family.”

“Surely you don’t mean that!” she protested.

“I do,” he insisted. “I am only looking out for you. You have no idea the kind of life Julian leads.”

“I think I have a very good idea,” she said.

“Are you aware that he keeps a mistress?” Harry blurted.

“Does he?” she answered, outwardly impassive. Julian had already admitted that he kept a woman. He’d also told her that he didn’t love her, but did he still intend to keep her? She’d been afraid to ask but now she knew she could not live with competition for his affections.

“And what precisely would you know of such things as mistresses?” Henrietta asked.

“I’ve seen the woman myself,” he exclaimed.

“So you also consort with loose woman, Harry?” Henrietta asked, brows arched. “I can’t imagine what Penelope would think of that. Indeed, she might wonder what brought you to town so close to your wedding day.”

“You wouldn’t dare mention such a thing!”

“Wouldn’t I? Perhaps I shall write Penelope to tell her I have seen you here in town with Julian.”

Harry’s gaze narrowed with sudden understanding. “What do you want from me, Henrietta?”

“I want to know who she is,” Henrietta replied.

“Who?”

“Julian’s mistress. I wish to speak with her.”

“What!” He made a choking sound. “You can’t do such a thing!”

“Why not?” Henrietta asked. Julian had implied that she’s was a respectable woman, the widow of an army officer. “I wish to know her name and direction.”

“I will not give it to you.”

“No? Then I shall spend my afternoon penning a letter to Penelope.”