“Of course you are not.” Henrietta had not meant to insult or anger him. “It is just that . . .” That she might not be able to see him if he was discovered, and she didn’t like that thought at all. “Very well.” They strolled to the hall, and Dorie assigned a footman to follow Henrietta and Fotherby. She bussed her friend’s cheek. “Give the baby a kiss for me.”
Dorie grinned. “I shall.” She turned to Fotherby. “My lord, would you like to join us this afternoon in the Park? It will be as before. We ladies shall ride in my carriage, and the gentlemen will be on horseback.”
“Yes.” He inclined his head. “I would enjoy very much joining you.”
Drat!Henrietta almost wished she had not made prior plans. “I am riding with Lord Bolingbroke this afternoon.”
“Lord Fotherby, you are still welcome to accompanyourcarriage,” Dorie said.
“Thank you.” He inclined his head. “I still accept.”
“Meet us here shortly before five. We look forward to seeing you.” She shot Henrietta a grin. “We shall no doubt see you in the Park.”
“No doubt.” Henrietta slid a look at Fotherby. He had said he was not hiding, but this might be tempting fate too far. At least for her. Then it occurred to her that he did not seem the least bit put out that she was going riding with another man. Yet he had spoken passionately about their problem.
One of Dorie’s footmen followed as they left the house and started down the street in the opposite direction from which she usually went. Merton House was diagonal to Exeter House. This way would enable them to stroll together longer.
“I would like to ask you to ride with me”—he pulled a face—“but my carriage needs repairs from sitting so long. I hope to have it in working order within the next week or so.”
Henrietta was not going to mention her sister and brother-in-law. He knew that was his fence to take. Until then there were morning rides. “I suppose that was to be expected. Are you glad to be involving yourself in politics?”
“I am.” He smiled at her, and her breathing quickened. Goodness. That was another reaction she had not had for a man before. “I have found that I enjoy being useful.”
“I feel the same. It is gratifying to be able to help others.” She found herself walking closer to him and wondered how that happened.
They crossed to the other side of the square, and he stopped on the corner, just one house down from her home. Raising her hand, he kissed it. “It goes against the grain, but I must leave you here.”
“I know.” He bowed and strolled toward Grosvenor Street. As she continued to Merton House, she sent up a prayer that his difficulties with her family would resolve themselves soon.
Parkin opened the door, and Henrietta entered the hall and removed her bonnet. “Where is my sister?”
“Still resting. His lordship has gone to luncheon at his club and then to the boxing salon.”
Well, then. She could occupy her time writing a few letters until her ride this afternoon. “I shall be in my rooms.”
Henrietta sighed. Despite liking Fotherby the best, she would give the other gentlemen a fair chance. She thought back to what St. Albans had said about his friends marrying. If they were looking to wed, that was. Lord Bolingbroke was a peer and would, therefore, need to marry. She tried to concentrate on what little she knew of him from readingDebrett’s, but her thoughts kept returning to Lord Fotherby. Shaking her head, she picked up one of the letters on her desk. With any luck at all, she would be able to concentrate on her correspondence.
She knew from the writing, it was from her mother. After relaying all the news of the neighborhood and their family, she reminded Henrietta that she did not have to wed this Season if she did not wish to. Mama had said the same thing to Dotty when she’d come out, and to Henrietta last Season. The next sentences caused a hard lump to form in her throat.
You must always follow your heart. When you find love and it is returned, do not allow anyone to convince you to let it go. I do not want to know what would have happened to me if I had not refused the matches my father tried to arrange and insisted on your papa. I do know I would never have been happy.
Your loving mother
Tears pricked Henrietta’s eyes, and when she lifted her hand to her face her cheek was damp. If Mama only knew what the ramifications of her advice might be, would she have still given it? Henrietta recalled what she had been told of her parents’ marriage. Her uncle and her father had been friends, but when Papa refused to give her up, her uncle broke with him. Grandmamma had stood with Mama and Papa against her husband and her eldest son until the marriage was allowed. Yes, she would probably still give the same advice, and her grandmother would stand with Henrietta if need be. But she did not want a rift in her family. She did not yet know if she was falling in love with Fotherby.
Henrietta rubbed her temples to stop a headache from forming. She was riding with Lord Bolingbroke today. She would give him her full attention.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Nate scowled to himself.
Damn Bolingbroke.
Damn every gentleman in Town who wished to ride or dance with Miss Stern. He hastened his steps as his frustration rose. He had been very careful not to show his ire when she had said she was riding with the man. He was not yet in a position to show her how he truly felt about her engagement this afternoon.
Entering his house, he headed to his study. He’d see what work had to be done and then he’d go to Jackson’s Boxing Salon. His technique would be rusty—it had been years since he’d boxed there—but it was the only way to defeat the disappointment he was feeling. It didn’t matter if he was any good; he’d still be able to hit someone. With any luck, it would be Bolingbroke. Unlike Merton, Nate had never been skilled enough to box with the great Jackson himself, outside of having taken a few lessons, that was. Nate had been much more interested in fashion than boxing. He’d gone to Jackson’s only because it was the fashionable thing to do. Now he badly needed to hit something or someone.
An hour later he walked into Jackson’s and looked around. Nothing had changed since he’d been there the last time. Jackson was teaching a young man the finer points of the sport. Nate watched, remembering the stance and the boxer’s advice to always keep one’s fists up. After a few minutes he was approached by one of the trainers. The man was about his age, but had the look of someone who’d spent time in fighting competitively. “May I help you, sir?”
