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‘I know nothing about it,’ Henri replied truthfully. She sat up a bit straighter and lowered her lashes demurely. ‘But Sophie Ravel strikes me as a very determined young lady. Something that is forbidden gains in value. Have you read the letter? Or did your spies simply inform you of its existence?’
‘An expression of piety does you no good.’ Robert’s laughter filled the room. ‘I know you’ll be involved somehow. But having met Sophie, do you truly think she is the correct person for your cousin? Can’t you resist meddling for once?’
Henri put her hand to her head and tried to think clearly. ‘You do me a disservice. Before I meddle, as you called it, I do seek to make sure the couple in question are compatible.’
‘Out with it, Henri. What is the trouble? What do you have against Miss Ravel? Why don’t you think this is a good match? I’m interested to hear your reasoning.’ His eyes danced.
‘Do you intend to marry Miss Ravel?’ she asked in a careful voice. Her insides tightened, waiting for the response. If she knew he was spoken for, maybe this intense physical awareness of him would vanish.
Instantly he sobered and put the paper down. His brows drew together. ‘That, Henri, is none of your business. You are teetering on the brink of asking a question that could be construed as matchmaking and interference in my private life.’
‘It is a natural enough conclusion. The entire village has remarked on Miss Ravel coming up here when no one knew of her before. They believe she has fled towards love, rather than running away from ruin.’ Henri kept her gaze fastened over his shoulder. With each breath she took the tight fluttery place in her stomach became tighter and more noticeable. She refused to think about the kiss they had shared earlier. Would he have kissed her if he was promised to another? Her cheek burnt. There was no way she could even refer to the kiss.
‘As it happens, village gossip is wrong. I’ve no plans to marry the chit.’ He turned towards the roaring fire, hiding his face. ‘I’ve known her since she was a babe in arms and I made a promise to her dying father. I’ll be glad once she has settled into a good match and is no longer my responsibility. I pity her poor husband, whoever he is, as she will lead him a merry dance. She was the apple of her father’s eye and he only married her governess so that Sophie would have a mother…after her mother died. It would be cradle robbing and my tastes are more mature.’
Henri discovered she could gulp air again. Robert Montemorcy had no plans to marry Sophie Ravel and liked women closer to his age. He sought to honour a promise to Miss Ravel’s father. It shouldn’t be important, but it was. ‘I can understand that. Miss Ravel is awfully young. It is one of the reasons I suggested that she write to Sebastian with the suggestion that they wait until she reaches her majority. It is good her father thought so much of her.’
‘And furthermore, my dear Henrietta Thorndike, I have no plans ever to marry. I am far too busy with my work. I’d make the worst sort of husband and who would put up with my temper?’ He turned back around and gave her a burning look. ‘You may keep me crossed off that matchmaking list, the one you are preparing to resurrect after our wager is finished.’
‘I have no such list,’ Henri replied truthfully—she kept her best ideas in her head rather than written down.
‘And I would take it as a personal favour if you did not include Miss Ravel’s name either.’
‘How many times must I say that no such list exists?’ Henri squared her shoulders and stared defiantly at him. ‘Most people marry eventually.’
‘I’m far from most people. Have I asked you why you have never remarried?’
She shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He was hitting below the belt. Her reasons were private and certainly not something she would discuss with a man whom she had shared a kiss with. Edmund was irreplaceable. No one else had ever had that lovely gentle smile, which made her feel so content. She couldn’t explain about the awful loneliness after he had gone without seeming somehow needy.
He leant forwards, so their breath was intimately laced. The shifting colours of his golden-brown eyes mesmerised her and all she could do was to stare at them and hope.
‘It is a private matter,’ she whispered.
‘As are my reasons.’ He moved away from her. ‘Shall we keep it that way? No attempts at matchmaking on either side. And now, it is time to take you to bed and prevent you from doing any more work. Shall I carry you up?’
The words conjured up an image that she had tried to bury. She focused on the ormolu clock and forced her breathing to be even. ‘I could lean on a stick. I can get up the stairs on my own if I take it slowly.’
