And Then She Fell(4)

Melinda glanced over her shoulder, but James had melted into the crowd and was no longer visible. Drawing in a breath, Melinda clutched her mother’s hand more tightly and, head rising, faced Henrietta. “Tell me.”

Mrs. Wentworth glanced meaningfully at the other guests. “This really might not be the best place to discuss this, dear.”

Melinda frowned. “But I have to know. How can I face him again otherwise?”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Wentworth suggested, “we might return home to discuss the matter in private.” He looked at Henrietta. “If we could impose on Miss Cynster to oblige?”

Henrietta hadn’t intended to leave the Montagues’ house until later, but faced with three earnestly entreating expressions, she inclined her head. “Yes, of course. I have my parents’ carriage. I’ll follow you to Hill Street.”

She trailed the Wentworths as they made their way to Lady Montague’s side. While Melinda and Mrs. Wentworth thanked her ladyship for the evening’s entertainment, Henrietta stood back and idly scanned the crowd. There were few present she did not know, few she couldn’t immediately place in terms of family and connections.

She was absentmindedly surveying the heads when her gaze collided with James Glossup’s.

Standing across the room, he was watching her intently.

The Wentworths took their leave and moved toward the door. Wrenching her gaze from James’s, Henrietta smiled at Lady Montague and made her farewells, then followed the Wentworths.

She told herself not to look, but she couldn’t resist glancing back.

James was still watching her, but his eyes had narrowed; the austere planes of his handsome face seemed harder, his expression almost harsh.

Henrietta met his gaze, held it for an instant, then she turned and walked out of the ballroom.

On the other side of the room, James Glossup softly swore.

What I’ve learned is that Mr. Glossup needs to marry in order to release additional funds from his grandaunt’s estate.” Ensconced in an armchair by the drawing room fire in the Wentworths’ Hill Street house, Henrietta paused to sip the tea Mrs. Wentworth had insisted they all required.

Seated in the armchair opposite, with his daughter and wife on the chaise to his left, Mr. Wentworth frowned. “So he’s not a fortune hunter after Mellie’s dowry?”

Setting her cup on its saucer, Henrietta shook her head. “No—he has funds enough, but to release the balance of his grandaunt’s fortune he has to marry. As I understand it, the old lady wanted to ensure that he did, so she made it a condition of her will.”

Mr. Wentworth snorted. “I suppose that’s one way an old lady can force a whelp to the altar, but not with my girl.”

“No, indeed!” Mrs. Wentworth agreed, then, clearly recalling that it was Melinda’s opinion that, in this instance, carried the real weight, turned to her daughter. “That is . . . Mellie?”

Cup and saucer held in her lap, Melinda had been staring into the fire. Now she blinked, glanced at her mother, then looked across at Henrietta. “He’s not in love with me, is he?”

Henrietta adhered to the absolute truth. “That I can’t say. All I can tell you is what I know.” She held Melinda’s gaze, then gently said, “You would be a much better judge of that than I.”

Melinda stared back for several moments, then her lips firmed. She shook her head. “He likes me, but no—he doesn’t love me.” She paused and took a long sip of her until-then neglected tea. Lowering the cup, she went on, “Truth be told, that’s why I asked you to learn what you could of him. I already suspected from the way he behaved that there was some motive other than love behind his approach . . .” Lips twisting, Melinda waved and looked away.

Henrietta drained her cup, then set it on the saucer and shifted forward to place both on the low table before the chaise. “I should go. There’s nothing more I have to add, and you’ll want to think things through.” She rose.

Melinda set down her cup and saucer and rose, too, as did her parents. “I’ll see you out.”

“Thank you again for being such a good friend to Mellie.” Mr. Wentworth gruffly patted Henrietta’s hand.

Henrietta took her leave of the senior Wentworths and followed Melinda into the front hall. As soon as the butler shut the drawing room door, Henrietta murmured, low enough that only Melinda, just ahead of her, could hear, “I’m truly sorry to be the bearer of such tidings.”