CHAPTERELEVEN
Taking advantage of the cessation of rain, Henrietta rang for her maid, changed into a walking gown, donned a spencer, and went downstairs. One of the footmen was speaking with Parkin. “May I borrow Jack for a while? I have decided to go to Worthington House.”
“Yes, of course, miss,” Parkin said.
“Thank you.”
Followed by the footman, Henrietta walked to Berkeley Square and up the steps to Worthington House.
Thorton, the Worthington butler, opened the door. “Good day, miss. We have not seen you for some time.”
“Good day, Thorton. Is her ladyship at home?”
He waved her into a small parlor. “Allow me to ascertain if she is receiving.”
“Thank you.” Henrietta was too nervous to sit and walked around the room, looking at the paintings on the wall. Some of them appeared to have been painted overseas.
Before she even finished looking at all of them, Thorton returned. “Miss Stern, please follow me.”
She was led down the familiar corridor to Grace Worthington’s study. The room was arranged for comfort rather than elegance. A cherry-wood desk with drawers anchored the center of the room against the wall. In front of the fireplace, two sofas faced each other over a low table, and a scattering of chairs were against the walls. The view out the window led onto the garden, and a glass door was situated next to the window. Everything about the room was light, airy, and comfortable, even on a gloomy day.
Grace smiled as Henrietta entered. Although approaching her thirtieth year, no lines marred her complexion, and her golden-blond hair showed no white. What was noticeable was that she was once again expecting a child.
Rising, she held out her hand. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
Henrietta squeezed Grace’s hands. “I have a problem.”
“Oh dear.” Consciously or unconsciously, Grace touched her stomach.
“No, not that.” As liberal as Henrietta’s parents were, their expectations of her did not include becoming pregnant without benefit of marriage. “Although congratulations on the next baby seem to be in order.”
“Thank you.” Grace smiled softly. “It is not due until late this summer.” To Henrietta’s mind, Grace looked farther along than that. “Let us be comfortable. Thorton will be here shortly with tea. Until then, tell me how Dotty, Merton, and your niece are doing.”
“Dotty has decided to have another baby as well. She is due in September.” Henrietta frowned to herself. “She is having a difficult time with this one. It is keeping her awake at night.”
“That is never good. I do hope she is resting when she can. I shall make a point of visiting her.” Grace grinned. “The children will not be far apart.”
As she predicted, tea was brought, along with a generous selection of biscuits, tarts, and slices of lemon cake. Henrietta took a cup from her ladyship, as well as a lemon curd tart.
Grace leaned slightly back against a large pillow. “Now tell me what is troubling you.”
Henrietta thought about easing into the issue, but there really was no way to do it. “Do you remember when Dotty was abducted by Lord Fotherby?”
“I do.” Although Grace’s eyes had widened, there was no other indication that she was upset.
“Well”—Henrietta fiddled with the fringe on her spencer—“I met him by pure chance when I went to rescue a baby from Whitechapel.”
Grace’s brows drew together. “Were Dotty and Merton not with you?”
“No. They were out. Mrs. Perriman was on another call and the message was urgent.”
“I see.” And Grace did. She was the one who had encouraged Dotty to set up the charity and was still a patron.
“I took a footman who had fighting experience, a groom, and the coachman. But there was a problem. I had to shoot one of the men, causing one of his fellows to toss the infant toward me and run away. Then a strange gentleman caught the babe while the footman knocked out the third man.” She took a sip of tea and a bite of the tart. The events seemed so far away now that it was almost as if it had happened to someone else. “He was dressed as a country gentleman and said he was in Town helping a neighbor fetch his daughter. And, indeed, there was a large traveling coach outside of the workhouse. I thought he was returning to the country, and that I would never see him again.” She looked up and met Grace’s eyes. “I was not happy about that certainty. He went to the coach, and we left.”
A crease marred Grace’s forehead. “Are you certain it was Fotherby? I never met him, but Louisa has, and she said he was a Dandy.”
“Merton said the same thing.” Henrietta finished her tea and held her cup out for more. “Other than me, he was the first to see Lord Fotherby, but he did not recognize him as his former friend. You see, his lordship has changed. At least in the way he looks, and possibly in the way he thinks as well. He has an Irish Wolfhound. Merton said he was afraid of dogs.”
