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‘If you can find one to hand. Very useful things, frying pans—cook your breakfast on it as well as dispatch unwanted advances.’ Henri hit the side of her head. ‘Whack on the side of the head. It is the only method he’ll understand.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m sure you are funning me.’ Sophie Ravel’s bottom lip stuck out slightly. ‘Sebastian is simply the most thrilling thing to have happened to me. And I’m certain you are mistaken about him. He only says things to amuse.’
Mentally Henri sighed. ‘Edmund was the same age as I. Sebastian is rather older than you. He will be thirty next birthday.’
‘It isn’t the age that matters, but the feeling. In any case, he isn’t as old as Robert, and dear Stepmama is hopeful.’ Miss Ravel put a hand over her mouth. ‘Here I go, telling tales again. Robert says I spend too much of my allowance and whoever gets me had better have enough money to keep me. Does Sebastian, as I won’t get my fortune until I am twenty-one or I marry?’
Henri hated the small curl of annoyance. Robert Montemorcy would be bored within moments if he married this chit. She sincerely hoped that Robert had more sense, but then she had discovered in the years since Edmund’s death that men seldom had sense where women were concerned. They had a tendency to overlook the perfect woman and develop a tendre for someone unsuitable. much as Sebastian had done with Miss Ravel. It was why matchmaking became so important for everyone’s peace of mind.
‘I suspect you will discover that the marrying bit must be someone your guardian approves of or there will be no money. It is how matters work.’
‘Always?’ Sophie Ravel’s eyes widened with shock. ‘But Robert would never…or would he?’
‘Always,’ Henri answered steadily. ‘And then it will be up to your husband to decide, but you will be able to guide him. But if you marry without your guardian’s permission, you will have to wait.’
‘Oh, bother! I hadn’t considered that. Robert hates it when his will is crossed,’ Miss Ravel cried, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sure Sebastian will wait for me if his heart is true. I quite like the idea of having a man such as your cousin wait for me. He’d said he’d do it as long I didn’t take too long. And until I’m twenty-one isn’t awfully long, is it? Not if his heart is true?’
‘It is best to discover his true intentions. You ought to write to him and explain the situation. It is what I would do,’ Henri said as a wave of tiredness swept over her. Everything was going to be sorted out. Sensibly. All it needed was a firm hand and a steady nerve. Once Sebastian read the letter, he’d be off to find an heiress whose family approved of him. Problem satisfactorily concluded. Men like Robert overcomplicated things.
* * *
A single lamp shone in the drawing room and the only noise the scratch of a pen. Robert frowned. The room should have been filled with the sound of soft breathing.
Henri was sitting up, sucking the end of a pen while various pages of notes and lists surrounded her. Her black hair had come loose and a single curl touched her neck, emphasising its slenderness and pointing down towards where her breasts swelled. The whole tableau was intimate and private. It was all too easy to imagine Henri with her dark hair spread out over a pillow. What her skin would taste like and how her curves would feel against his. There were also reasons why becoming involved with Henrietta Thorndike was not going to happen.
Robert forced his gaze from her, steadied his breath and examined the chaos.
‘What are you up to now? I don’t think it is what the good doctor would call rest,’ he said softly.
She glanced up and he saw her right cheek was covered in a blue-black ink smudge. It gave her an endearing look. He wet his handkerchief in the jug of water that stood on the chest of drawers and held it out to her. ‘You’ve an ink blot on your right cheek.’
Her skin flushed rose and she scrubbed away with his handkerchief. ‘It always happens when I get absorbed in things.’
‘Doctor Lumley said “rest”, not “direct the entire village from your bedside”.’
‘I haven’t moved my ankle.’ She gestured towards where her foot rested on several pillows. ‘How can I sleep when I worry? There is the ball, where loads remains to be done, and after that a concert. I was planning on writing to a variety of professors to see if we can get a lecture series organised for this autumn.’
‘The cemeteries are full of people who had little time to rest.’
‘Oh, please!’ She slapped her hand against the papers.
