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‘If you liked your current system, you would never have asked me to sort out your notes. And I fail to see any scientific method in the order in which you arranged them. Experiments are jumbled with cuttings, raw data with published,’ she said, tapping her pen against the stack of paper.
‘Where are the Ravels?’ he asked, changing the subject.
‘Miss Armstrong does take her responsibilities seriously and called for them in her carriage. She can be overexcitable and inclined to exaggeration, but she is a strong upholder of virtue.’ Henri sat up straighter and reached for the lists of experiments. Robert should’ve been aware of unintended consequences. Miss Armstrong had appeared bedecked in bows and ruffles and her face became like thunder when she discovered that Robert was not at home. ‘About these experiments…’
He gave her a searching look. ‘Miss Armstrong is more than capable of introducing Sophie and her mother to the neighbourhood. Or is there something else you wish to deflect my attention away from?’
Henri’s stomach tightened. Miss Armstrong had little love for Sebastian after Sebastian had been rude to her and she had an overly developed sense of propriety. And she had gone on and on about how girls had to show that they could be trusted out in society. How would Sophie fare under such a chaperon?
‘Mrs Ravel is a very determined lady,’ Henri said quietly, wondering how she would drum it into his brain that he was risking alienating Sophie. ‘A mother bear intent on protecting her cub, but. My mother suffered from the same outlook. The strictures she put on me chafed and I eloped—’
‘Sophie is on trial, Henri.’ He waved an impatient hand, cutting off her words. ‘We both want to see how she acts and if she has learnt her lesson.’
‘And if Sophie hasn’t…learnt her lesson, what are you going to do? Forbid the ball? Wait to see if she becomes wiser?’
‘It has been discussed,’ he admitted, his eyes sliding away from her. ‘The last thing anyone wants is for Sophie to ruin her chances of a good and secure marriage.’
‘You’re approaching this scientifically? Experimenting with little events like At Homes? Sophie is a flesh-and-blood person, not a test tube of chemicals. You need to think about her feelings.’
‘Sophie needs to prove herself, to prove she can be sensible.’
Henri leant forwards and caught his hand. He looked at her and she found she could only concentrate on his mouth. She forced her gaze upwards. ‘You must listen to me. Allow Sophie to go to the ball. Allow her to have some fun. People will watch out for her. She’ll not be ruined.’
He curled his fingers about hers and held her there. ‘Sophie will prove equal to the task. Small social situations to allow her to regain her confidence. Have faith. Is there something wrong with believing, Henri? You worry too much. Trust me.’
She forgot how to breathe, forgot everything and simply looked up at him with parted lips. Her fingers longed to smooth away the lock of hair that had tumbled down over his forehead. His mobile mouth hovered inches from hers. All she had to do was to lift her face ever so slightly and wrap her arm about his neck. Her fingers longed to bury themselves in his damp hair.
A distinct rumble of carriage wheels sounded, breaking the spell. Henri allowed her hand to drop by her side. Her face flooded with heat. She had been about to kiss him! It wasn’t Sophie that she had to worry about, but herself. All of her mother’s dire predictions about what was going to happen if she didn’t learn to curb her passions flooded back over her.
‘I do believe I hear a carriage,’ she said and hoped it sounded bright and cheerful. ‘It’ll be Sophie returning, full of tales of the various At Homes.’
‘I do believe you are right, Thorndike.’ His exact tone of voice mimicked hers. ‘We shall have to continue this entirely interesting conversation another time. And we will finish it.’
Henri put her hand to her aching mouth and tried to wish away the disappointment. When she closed her eyes, the only face she saw was Robert’s sardonic one, rather than Edmund’s placid features. Her insides trembled. Edmund’s memory was supposed to be with her for ever. If she forgot him, she’d cease to be Lady Henrietta Thorndike, and she wasn’t ready to be anyone else.
* * *
‘Keep still, Henri, or I won’t be able to get your profile done properly.’ Sophie spoke from behind her easel and Henri wondered how the young woman knew that Henri had just flexed her good foot. ‘Be good. Concentrate on the canary.’
Henri tried to ignore the itch that had started on her chin. It had seemed like a good idea when Sophie suggested a portrait three mornings ago, a way to keep out of Robert’s study and stop thinking about him. It gave her the excuse she needed to stop sorting out his research, but she had never thought it would involve such a large amount of time motionless and giving her mind time to contemplate the precise curve of Robert’s mouth and how his frock-coat hinted at the hard planes of his chest.
