“Indeed it is,” Dorie agreed.
Henrietta had already told them she was engaged to dine with her grandmother this evening, and they promised they would be back in good time. “I am so looking forward to our outing.”
“I am too.” Fotherby glanced at her at the same time she looked at him.
Warmth infused her cheeks, the sound of wheels made her look away, and they all stopped for a dray carrying milk.
He broke away from them when they reached Park Avenue, where she and her friends continued on to Turley House on Green Street. As she and Dorie rode to Grosvenor Square, her friend said, “You seemed to be having an interesting conversation with Lord Fotherby.”
“I was.” Henrietta grinned. “We were discussing a school he wants to start for his tenants’ and the village children.”
“It is always telling when a gentleman asks a lady for assistance,” Dorie commented with a smile.
“It is certainly a good indication of what kind of man he is.” Henrietta thought it said more about him than flowers and poems and polite conversation ever could.
“Did Lord Bolingbroke or Lord St. Albans talk about anything of substance?” Dorie asked.
“No.” Henrietta shook her head. “The only part of the conversations I remember was when I admired their carriages and horses. To be fair, I have spent more time with Fotherby.”
Dorie’s brows rose. “Fotherby?”
Drat. Henrietta knew she would make a slip. “I have recently started thinking of him in that way.”
“Yet not the other two gentlemen,” her friend said archly.
“No.” She felt herself slump and straightened her back. “To be honest, if it was not for my sister, I wouldn’t bother with them at all. Fotherby seems to be everything I want in a husband.”
Dorie gave Henrietta a sympathetic look. “If it makes you feel better, Georgie and I agree it would be a good match.” They turned into Grosvenor Square. “Our husbands like him as well. Apparently, Lord Bolingbroke has no interest in politics, and Lord St. Albans is not yet a peer.”
“One does not have to be a peer to be interested in what can make a difference in people’s lives.” Henrietta could think of a few examples when gentlemen with courtesy titles were involved in politics. “Look at Georgie’s older sister’s husband. He is not yet a peer, but they hold soirées for the purpose of recommending legislation or gathering support for bills.”
“You are correct.” Her friend nodded decisively. “There is no excuse.”
They had reached Merton House. “I shall see you at eleven.”
“We will bring the barouche around to fetch you.” Dorie grinned as she rode off.
Henrietta slid off her horse and rubbed her forehead before handing the reins to a waiting groom. This thing with Fotherby seemed so impossible. It was almost as if she had fallen in love with a merchant.
She stopped.
In love?
This was even worse than she’d thought. Why did it have to behim?
She strolled through the door. “Good morning, Miss Henrietta,” Parkin said cheerfully. “Did you have a good ride?”
She pasted a smile on her face. “I did, Parkin. Thank you.”
A half hour later she entered the breakfast room and was pleased to find Merton there reading a newssheet, alone. “Good morning.”
He raised a brow. “Is it?”
“Yes. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and it’s fairly warm.” Henrietta went to the sideboard. “I take it Dotty is not feeling well.”
“She is not.” He put down the paper. “I thought to have a doctor look in on her, but I’m afraid he would try to bleed her, and I won’t stand for that. I wish I knew why this child is so much more active than Vivi was.”
“What about a midwife?” Henrietta took two baked eggs and a slice of beef.
