Exeter and Turley groaned.
Lord Bolingbroke seemed bewildered. “Who is Lady Bellamny?”
“That’s right,” Turley said. “You haven’t spent much time on the Town.”
“I have had a lot to keep me busy in the past few years.”
Henrietta wondered how often he came to Town. Was he interested in politics?
“She is a lady with very strong opinions,” Exeter said. “Most of which revolve around gentlemen marrying.”
Lord Bolingbroke laughed. “I imagine that might be a problem for some gentlemen.”
“But not you?” Dorie asked
“No.” His eyes warmed when he glanced at Henrietta. “Not for me.”
At least she knew he wished to wed. But was he the right gentleman for her? She glanced over the landau at Fotherby and stifled a sigh, then gave herself an inner shake. The Season had not even begun yet. Perhaps she was in too much of a hurry for the rest of her life to be decided. She should be happy she had at least one, possibly two good prospects her family would accept. And there might be more.
“My mother is set to arrive before Sunday,” Lord Bolingbroke said.
She glanced up as he smiled at her. “How nice.”
“Yes, it is. She has indicated that she would like to host some entertainments.”
“Excellent.” Georgie grinned. “I have decided to hold my small dinner early next week. I shall include her in your invitation.”
Henrietta stared at her friend. She had changed her mind again about the date of her dinner.
Despite Dorie’s prophecy that Lady Bellamny would soon be upon them, the next carriage to reach them was a landau holding Lady Fotherby and Henrietta’s grandmother.
Henrietta had to lean forward in order to speak to them. “Good afternoon, Grandmamma, my lady.”
Lord Bolingbroke raised a brow, and she introduced her two friends and the gentlemen.
Grandmamma’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Fotherby. “What did you do to yourself?”
Henrietta had been looking at her grandmother, but now turned her attention to Fotherby.
He had a chagrined look on his handsome face. “I went to Jackson’s and got into a conversation with an old friend.”
Merton. It had to be Merton.
“Men.” Her grandmother looked disgusted. “Well, I hope he looks the same as you.”
Fotherby eyes lit up and his lips curved. “I daresay he might very well.”
He sounded proud of himself. Yet before Henrietta could verify his opponent was her brother-in-law, Lady Bellamny’s barouche stopped and the older ladies greeted one another. Dorie wiggled her fingers and quietly directed her coachman to move ahead. Lord Bolingbroke followed her lead, and they were all on their way.
Henrietta was glad when he brought her home. She wanted to speak with Merton and hoped he was there. She wanted the whole story. Mainly she wanted to know if he was going to try to stop her from seeing Fotherby. Drat! She should not think of him in such a familiar manner.
Lord Bolingbroke drew up to Merton House and got to Henrietta’s side of the curricle before the footman. Taking her hand, he helped her down the steps. The only problem was that it was just a hand. No warmth accompanied the touch. No sparks made her skin tingle through her glove. There was no heat to warm her blood. And that was an essential part of attraction. Everyone she had spoken with about it agreed.
When they reached the door she curtseyed. “Thank you for the lovely ride.”
He bowed. “It was my pleasure. I do not think I have spent a more enjoyable afternoon.”
He must live a very dull life. “Yes it was enjoyable.” Fortunately the door opened before this leave-taking became awkward. She gave him a polite smile. “Until the next time.”
