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‘But a few weeks…the ball…people will forget about it!’ Henri’s body started to tremble. Suddenly the entire room tilted. She concentrated on the china ornaments and gradually the giddiness left her. It was a reaction to her predicament rather than to Robert Montemorcy’s nearness.
‘You do people a disservice.’ His smile became liquid honey. ‘Catch up on your reading. My library is well stocked, but someone can always be persuaded to go to the circulating library and get out the guide to better cattle, if you require.’
Henri smiled back at him. Relief flooded through her. Seemingly their quarrel was over. They could even laugh about it. With Sebastian, such things festered and lingered for days. ‘Being here will demonstrate to you that I have other passions in my life besides matchmaking. If I succeed, you will be dancing the polka.’
‘On that ankle?’
‘Did I say with me?’ Henri pressed her fingertips together. It had to be the laudanum. The thought of dancing with Robert sent another warm giddy thrill through her. She frowned. She’d never been given to giddiness, not even with Edmund. ‘I will watch with approval whomever you decide to dance with.’
‘But first you have to win the wager.’ He leant forwards and a myriad of colours lit his eyes. A woman could spend a lifetime studying those eyes and never be able to name all the colours. ‘I fully expect you to give in to temptation.’
‘I shall delight in proving you wrong.’
His shoulders relaxed slightly, but there remained a guarded wariness about his eyes. ‘That is more like the Henrietta Thorndike I’m used to.’
If only life was that simple. He wanted something more, she was sure of it. The unspoken request hung in the air.
‘I owe you an apology,’ she said into the sudden silence.
‘An apology? What have I done to deserve that?’
‘I made a mistake, Robert. You were trying to do what is best for your ward.’ She held out her hand. ‘You were worried. Hopefully next time, you’ll trust me with the full truth before embarking on a madcap wager.’
He took her hand and raised it his lips. The briefest touch was enough to send her heart thumping.
‘There is no need for an apology—as long as we understand each other now.’
She lifted her chin and stared straight back at him. Gathering intelligence wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t actually doing anything with it. And she wouldn’t meddle until she knew the full story. ‘Yes, we do.’
He turned towards the door. His eyes lit with a sudden flare. ‘I will hold you to it.’
Chapter Five
‘Henrietta? May I call you Henrietta? I feel like I already know you.’ A blonde head with dishevelled curls and pale slightly protruding eyes peeked around the door, waking Henri from an uncomfortable sleep on the sofa. The young woman was clothed almost entirely in flounces and impractical Belgian lace. The dress appeared to be more suited to a London ballroom than a rainy afternoon in Northumberland. ‘You’re awake. Please say you’re awake. I’ve longed to meet you.’
Henri struggled to sit up straight on the damask-covered sofa as the torrent of words rushed over her. She glanced at the small clock that was now shrouded in gloom.
Two hours since Montemorcy left her to sleep. Two hours of sleep. She never slept during the day. Naps were for invalids.
Her ankle throbbed, reminding her that her activity would be curtailed for the next few weeks. She had to hope that no one took pity on her. She’d had enough pity, concern and being treated like she was made of spun-glass after Edmund died to last several lifetimes. ‘I’m awake. And you are the Miss Ravel that everyone in the village is speaking about.’
The young woman gave a tiny curtsy. ‘In the flesh.’ Her cheeks flushed bright pink. ‘Is everyone speaking about me? Truly?’
‘The village was much intrigued by your canary and its pagoda-shaped cage.’
‘Robert gave it to me last birthday as I expressed a wish for it. He always gives the most splendid presents.’ Miss Ravel glanced over her shoulder to the right and then the left. ‘I wanted to see you before they forbade it.’
‘Why would they forbid it?’ Henri tilted her head to one side.
‘Everything new or interesting is forbidden these days.’ Sophie gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Even walking on my own or with a maid, which I used to love. My stepmama…feels that I am incapable of being sensible…, after the débâcle in the drawing room. Earlier this week I opened the canary’s cage because it must hate it, but it just looked at me and pecked a few more seeds. I don’t understand it. I’d be out of the cage in a flash if I were that bird.’
