She must stop thinking about being the last of their group to wed, but it was like a bur that kept sticking in her mind.
“Fitzwalter must be a happy man,” Lord St. Albans commented.
It took her a second to understand to what he was referring. Of course, it was the child. An heir. “I imagine he is.”
“I have begun to notice how many of my friends have married and started filling their nurseries,” he said in a thoughtful tone.
“I have been thinking the same.” More and more Henrietta wanted to marry and have a family.
“I wish them all well, but it makes it hard to spend time with them.” St. Albans’s tone was rather petulant, and there was more than a hint of disgust in it.
“Really? How sad for you, my lord.” She was not so innocent that she did not have a good idea of what kind of things he and his friends had got up to. “I have not found it difficult at all to spend time with my married friends.”
He opened his mouth and shut it again, and after a moment he said, “Indeed. I should make more of an effort to broaden my activities, as you have clearly done.”
Henrietta was not quite sure what he meant by that. Unless it was liking to spend time with children, which she rarely did. Then again, the activities in which she and her friends engaged had not changed very much, whereas his friends’ activities probably had.
They were stopped by several more people as they made their way around the carriage way. One of whom was Lady Bellamny, who inclined her head. “I am happy to see you, Miss Stern.” She raised her quizzing glass and one black eye stared at Lord St. Albans. “Is that you, St. Albans?”
His hand came up, as if he was about to tug on his cravat. “Yes, my lady. As you see.”
“Well, I certainly hope Europe has improved you. But I doubt it. It rarely does.”
Trying not to laugh out loud, Henrietta pressed her lips together as he searched for a way to answer her ladyship’s question without giving offense. What had he been up to before?
“My mother arrives tomorrow,” he said, neatly sidestepping an answer that could not go well for him.
“I will be pleased to see her.” Lady Bellamny turned to Henrietta. “I received a letter informing me that the duchess is in Town.”
“Yes, my lady.” There was no one her grandmother did not know. “I hope to convince her to remain for the Season.”
“Good luck with that.” Lady Bellamny’s tone was dubious. “I have known her since we were girls. She was always restless.”
“Nevertheless, I am quite hopeful that she will.” In fact, Henrietta sent up a prayer that her grandmother would agree to remain. “Merton’s mama was to have chaperoned me this Season, but she is unable to.”
Lady Bellamny made what sounded like a grunt. “Expect to receive an invitation for my soirée.” She poked the back of her coachman’s seat with her cane, and spared another dubious look at Lord St. Albans. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Thank you.” A bubble of laughter tried to escape, but Henrietta refused to let it out.
“I’m glad that’s over.” Lord St. Albans sounded more than relieved. “I’ve known her all my life, and for most of it she’s scared me to death.”
“Almost every gentleman I know has that same reaction,” she mused, more to herself than to him.
“She won’t be happy until every single gentleman she knows is leg—wed.”
Henrietta glanced at him, but he was minding his pair.
Is he not interested in marriage?
She must ask Georgie what she knew of his lordship. If he was not interested in finding a wife, Henrietta was not going to waste her time with him.
His brows furrowed as he looked at Henrietta. “To which duchess was she referring?”
“My grandmother.” She gave him a bright smile. “The Dowager Duchess of Bristol.”
He made what sounded like a groan. “Would you like to go around again?”
She looked around and saw the gate coming just ahead of them. “No, thank you.”
