And Then She Fell(60)
James inclined his head. “I’m hoping to meet with Simon today—I’m going to enjoy seeing his face when I inform him I’ll shortly be his brother-in-law.”
Louise laughed and patted James’s cheek. “He’ll be as delighted as we are.”
They left the parlor. Arthur returned to his study. James took his leave, bowing over Henrietta’s hand, then, his eyes meeting hers, he raised her fingers briefly to his lips before releasing her, finally dragging his gaze from hers, and walking out of the door a beaming Hudson held wide.
As Hudson shut the door, Henrietta sighed, amazingly happy and content, then she turned to see her mother dispatching her dresser, whom she’d summoned to fetch her cloak, bonnet, gloves, and reticule.
Turning to survey Henrietta, her mother said, “You’ll do as you are—the others would never forgive me if I didn’t give them this news as soon as humanly possible.” She turned to survey Mary.
Who was waltzing, twirling, a delighted smile curving her lips, a dreamy expression on her face.
Louise’s eyes narrowed. “I can understand that you might feel happy for Henrietta, but why, my darling Mary, are you so very overjoyed?”
Mary’s smile didn’t waver, but she halted. “Because I’m thrilled that Henrietta will now be able to pass on the necklace to me, and I’ll be able to get my search for my own hero properly underway.”
“Ah.” Louise nodded. “Well, in the meantime, I believe you should accompany us to St. Ives House—your aunt Helena will want to be informed straightaway, as will Honoria—so go and fetch your bonnet and cloak.”
“Yes, Mama.” Her exuberance undimmed, Mary rushed up the stairs.
Henrietta watched her go, and wondered. Mary rarely if ever lied, not outright, but she was a past master at deflection, and even though, as Henrietta understood it, Mary already had her hero in her sights, who knew what her little sister meant by “properly”?
Henrietta turned to her mother to hear Louise confirm for Hudson that “Miss Henrietta is, indeed, engaged to Mr. Glossup.” Her mother went on to sketch their current thoughts on the engagement ball and the wedding.
Hearing the words—words she’d heard so many times before about others, about her older twin sisters, her numerous female cousins—and knowing that this time those words referred to her, Henrietta again felt a species of amazement well.
The Matchbreaker had met her match, and was getting married.
It suddenly occurred to her that it was a very good thing that their wedding would take place as soon as could be. She seriously doubted her patience would bear with the quips and comments that would inevitably rain down upon her; luckily she would only have to grin and bear it for at most three weeks.
Not for the first time, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks for James’s Grandaunt Emily and her farsighted will.
On leaving the Cynster house, James drove his curricle the short distance to the mews behind the house in George Street he’d inherited from his grandaunt. Handing horses and curricle into the care of his grandaunt’s stableman—now his—he crossed to the house and found replies from both Simon and Charlie Hastings already waiting.
Reading the short notes, James snorted. He wasn’t surprised by the alacrity expressed; his request for them to meet with him at Boodles to discuss a major development had been intriguing enough, and the fact that his messages had been delivered by Lord Arthur’s footmen would have made the lure irresistible. Folding both missives, he quickly climbed the stairs; he needed to wash away the dust and change before showing his face in Boodles.
Earlier that morning, while he’d been dressing prior to leaving Henrietta’s room, she’d asked him not to tell her father about her “accidents.” While he’d wanted to oblige—she’d asked, and his first impulse was, apparently, to grant her whatever was in his power to grant—the application of a little thought had forced him to admit that he didn’t feel able not to inform her father of all that had happened, and, more, of what he now feared.
What she now feared, too, yet she’d argued her point, opening his eyes to the likely outcome seen from her perspective, one he’d never before considered. They’d ended discussing the pros and cons at some length. Eventually, he’d agreed to consider carefully how he presented the subject to her father, while she’d reluctantly conceded that he couldn’t conceal the matter entirely.
The drive from Ellsmere Grange to London had afforded him plenty of time for cogitation. Once ensconced with her father in his study, he’d told Lord Arthur all—he couldn’t ask the man to trust him with his daughter and her future while keeping the very real threat to both back—but he’d also explained Henrietta’s understandable reaction to the prospect of being so hemmed in by protectiveness that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy said future. She’d made a strong case that as the victim of the attacks, it was unfair to force her to bear the consequences, especially as they could not know when, or even if, another attack would come.