And Then She Fell(42)
Eyes widening, Henrietta looked at him. “Yes, of course I am.” She looked faintly puzzled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Because you’ve just had a too-close brush with death? James bit back the words; trapping her gaze, he said instead, “Under the circumstances, I imagine you might be better served by resting, at least until you’re sure you’ve fully recovered from the shock.”
The look she bent on him was faintly exasperated, as if she’d expected better from him. “I’m not such a weak thing—I’ll be perfectly well by this afternoon, and I won’t have to set out until then. Ellsmere Grange is only in Essex, after all.”
“Yes, but . . .” He frowned. They’d originally agreed to attend the house party at Ellsmere Grange in order to pad out and ultimately to finalize the short list for his necessary bride; even though that was no longer their aim, he’d assumed they would use their time there—in a setting removed from the hubbub of the ton—to further explore their alternative path. However, he was now very aware that his concern for Henrietta’s well-being trumped any consideration of his quest, however urgent. Setting down his cup and saucer, he met her eyes. “There’s no pressing need to attend, is there? And a quiet few days would allow your nerves more time to settle.”
Henrietta’s expression turned stubborn. “My nerves are already well on the way to being settled again. The incident might have been a shock, but it was only an accident, after all. A poor thing I would be to allow that to affect me for more than an hour or two. Besides”—she glanced at Louise—“Lady Ellsmere is expecting us. It’s far too late to cry off now.”
James looked at Louise, expecting—at least hoping—that she would support him.
Both Louise and Mary, he realized, had been quietly sipping, and watching the exchange between him and Henrietta. Now Louise set her cup on her saucer and stated, “I have to agree with Henrietta.” Louise met his eyes, her gaze that of the softhearted and kindly grande dame that she was. “I would be very surprised were any daughter of mine to need days to recover from an incident such as this, and Henrietta is correct in saying that for both of you to cry off at this late hour, with no broken bones or similar disaster to excuse you, would be seen as a snub to the Ellsmeres. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, and I certainly couldn’t countenance it, certainly not for Henrietta, so she, at least, will be attending as expected.”
Despite the kindliness, a spine of steel lurked beneath Louise’s soft-seeming exterior. She held James’s gaze for an instant, then arched her brows. “So, given Henrietta will be going, am I to take it you will attend as planned, too?”
He didn’t look, but he could feel the weight of Henrietta’s gaze, and Mary’s, as well. He kept his gaze on Louise’s blue eyes—very like Henrietta’s—then, lips tightening, capitulated. “Yes. Of course.” He glanced at Henrietta and was met by a brilliant smile. At least he’d made her happy.
Apparently his surrender had made Mary happy, too; her smile was simply dazzling.
Which left him feeling confused. Deeming retreat the course of wisdom, he rose. He bowed politely to Louise, then looked at Henrietta. After that kiss in the street, he would have liked to speak privately with her—just a word, a touch, perhaps another kiss—but at the same time, he didn’t want her to bestir herself unnecessarily. He inclined his head. “I’ll see you at Ellsmere Grange this afternoon.”
She held out her hand, her face uptilted, her expression grateful and relaxed. “Indeed—and thank you again. I’m steadfastly not thinking about what would have happened had you not joined me this morning.”
He wished he could do the same, but that thought was firmly embedded in his brain. However . . . he bowed over her hand, then, releasing it, nodded to Mary and strode from the room.
Henrietta watched him go. She really had no business feeling so very thrilled over the outcome of a potentially fatal accident, but what had been revealed by his responses and hers—that scorching kiss they’d shared in the middle of Upper Brook Street, which thankfully no one of any note socially had seen—had been their truth. In that moment, what was evolving between them had flared like a flame, indisputably true; to know that, to have been afforded that insight, was worth almost any price.
And she hadn’t, after all, been harmed in the least.
Transferring her gaze to her mother’s curious face, she smiled reassuringly. “I truly am fine.”