And Then She Fell(29)
James met Henrietta’s eyes, saw them widen slightly.
Miss Fotherby glanced back at the crowd, then looked at Henrietta, then at him. “Please,” she said, and stepped over the threshold.
Mystified, James waved Henrietta before him, and followed.
They found Miss Fotherby, hands clasped nervously before her, waiting for them a little way from the door. She swung away as they neared. As Miss Fotherby was shorter than Henrietta, Henrietta went to one side and James to the other; flanking Miss Fotherby, they strolled deeper into the shadows further along the terrace.
“I hope you’ll understand my reasons for approaching you like this, but . . .” Miss Fotherby paused to draw in a tight breath. “I have to marry. I live with my mother and stepfather, but for various reasons I wish to leave my stepfather’s roof. My aunt has been all that is kind, and she’s sponsoring me into the ton, as you know. I’m twenty-five, so finding a husband isn’t all that easy. I have a decent dowry, but . . .” She paused to draw in another breath, then, fingers twisting, went on, “I’ve had one offer, and while everyone else is thrilled and I’ve been advised by many to accept, I simply don’t trust the gentleman involved.”
They’d reached the end of the terrace. Placing a hand on the balustrade, Miss Fotherby swung to face them. She focused on Henrietta. “And no, I’m not here to ask you to vet him. I know well enough not to trust a man such as he. However”—she transferred her gaze to James—“I have heard, Mr. Glossup, of your need for a wife. I realize that you are looking over candidates and would like to ask that you put my name on your list for consideration.”
She glanced at Henrietta and smiled faintly. “Miss Cynster, I’m sure, will know how to learn all you might wish to know about me.” Raising her head, Miss Fotherby met Henrietta’s gaze. “I’ve heard that all Cynsters marry for love, but in my case . . . I know I’ll be happier taking the other tack.”
Turning to James, she met his eyes. “I distrust gentlemen who vow love too readily, Mr. Glossup, and infinitely prefer you and your honesty in approaching the matter as you have.” She inclined her head, then simply said, “Please do consider me for your position.” Her gaze traveling along the terrace to fix on the open ballroom door, she hesitated, then added, “And, if at all possible, I would appreciate some indication of your thoughts in the next several days.”
With that, she nodded to Henrietta, then walked swiftly back up the terrace, leaving James and Henrietta staring after her.
Cynsters marry for love.
I distrust gentlemen who vow love too readily.
James felt blindsided—hit in the head by not one but two punches, neither of which he’d seen coming. He hadn’t even thought that far . . . he looked at Henrietta. Shadows wreathed her face; he couldn’t make out her expression, much less read her eyes. “Ah . . .” The coward’s way out beckoned. “What do you think?”
She didn’t say anything for several long moments, then, in a tone that sounded odd, faintly strained, said, “As far as I know, she would make an excellent candidate.” She paused, then said, “I’ll have to check, of course, but of all the ladies you’ve met thus far, I suspect she should be at the top of your list, even before I ask around.”
So . . . she still thought he was searching for a bride? James’s head reeled as he scrambled to revisit all they’d said that evening, all they’d implied . . . or had it only been him thinking? Imagining?
He honestly didn’t know.
If he stated what he thought—what he’d assumed and hoped—would she laugh, and then balk and turn away?
“Perhaps . . . you can ask around.” At least that would mean he would see her again, and soon, by which time he might have sorted out what was going on. What was really going on between them.
Henrietta forced herself to nod, inexpressibly grateful that the shadows hid her face. Sternly repressing her hurt—and her stupid, stupid heart—she forced herself to calmly say, “I can understand why she might feel a need to know sooner rather than later. I’ll go and chat with the grandes dames—those who are here—immediately.” She dallied only long enough to say, “Perhaps you can meet me in the park tomorrow—I’ll be there with my mother and Mary in our carriage on the Avenue at eleven o’clock—and I’ll be able to tell you what I’ve learned.” In the park, with plenty of others about.