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‘Would that everything was so easily solved!’ Henri gave a smile and turned back towards the house. Her limbs trembled. It would be so easy to turn into his arms and lift her lips to his. This time she wanted a proper heart-stopping kiss, rather than a gentle brush. But with all the stable hands and gardeners about, it would be madness. One simple locking of lips in public and her entire reputation could be in jeopardy.
‘The best things are worth waiting for.’ He kept step with her slow pace. Her entire being was aware of him. She wished she dared lean on his arm, but instead concentrated on moving steadily.
‘Has Sophie sorted out her gown?’ Henri asked when they had nearly reached the door. ‘Will she dance with whomever she wishes? With Sebastian? Or will she be forced to cut him dead?’
‘It is up to Sophie whom she dances with. Cawburn has not had the courtesy to answer her letter. Neither has he visited you here.’
Henri kept her shoulders steady. ‘He hates sickrooms.
Always has. He never visited Edmund once he found out how ill Edmund was. Edmund forgave him, of course, so I had to.’
He shook his head. ‘That doesn’t excuse him. He should have.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’ Henri regarded the brass door handle of the front door. Faced with Robert’s concern, she found no easy lie sprang to her lips. Sebastian and her aunt’s not visiting did hurt, but she understood what they were like, and once she returned home, she knew they would react with concern. There were other more important topics to discuss. ‘Have you spoken to Sophie?’
‘You told me to listen to Sophie and I have.’ He looked at her with a steady eye. ‘Yesterday. After you walked away. I needed to know the truth about what happened with your cousin.’
Henri started. Robert had spoken with Sophie and, what was more, believed her. Her work here was done. As soon as she could find a good excuse, she’d go before the supper party. And then her world could go back to how it was. The only trouble was that she wanted to be here with him. She drew a deep breath. ‘What is your conclusion?’
‘She has done nothing to be ashamed of. I can trust her judgement. She needs to be properly fêted at the ball. I will make the sacrifice and dance, Thorndike.’
* * *
‘And you are coming to the ball, Lady Thorndike?’ Miss Armstrong asked with a faint frown as the servants finished serving the dessert. Throughout supper she had kept peering at Henri and finally it appeared Miss Armstrong’s curiosity had the better of her manners. ‘Lady Thorndike, I have always said that you had the potential to lead fashion if only you’d give up your devotion to mauve. The dress is distinctly—’
‘I like mauve,’ Henrietta said between gritted teeth. Potential to lead fashion, indeed. She set fashion in Corbridge. She gave advice on fashion. Her enforced absence from the social scene had obviously given some people ideas. And mauve was practical. She had simply exchanged the day bodice of her mauve skirt for the evening one with a décolleté neckline trimmed with a profusion of lace.
‘I myself am attempting a negligent attitude with a Grecian scarf worn over a Spanish bombazine and a Cossack petticoat. It is the very essence of this Season’s cosmopolitan style,’ Mrs Ravel confided in a stage whisper. ‘What influenced your dress?’
‘Northumbrian weather,’ Henri said firmly.
She heard a sound of choked laughter from Robert’s end of the table.
Mrs Ravel’s brow puckered as the remark appeared to sail over her head. ‘But will you change your mind about the ball, Henrietta? We do have room in the carriage.’
‘My ankle will give way if I stand for a long period, so I’ve sent my regrets.’ Henri practised perfecting the bland society smile. ‘Doctor Lumley confirmed this view earlier this afternoon.’
‘However, Lady Thorndike insisted there was no need to cancel our little supper party,’ Robert interrupted, an urbane smile on his face. ‘I’m very pleased that she decided to grace the table with her wit and charm.’
‘Quite sensible to give the ball a miss. One must always follow the good doctor’s instructions. You were kind to ask the dear doctor.’ Miss Armstrong gave a decided nod, making the trio of feathers on her headdress sway. Her hair was distinctly more yellow since the last time Henri encountered the woman and her gown’s décolleté neckline bordered on indecency, even if Miss Armstrong did keep it hidden underneath a lacy shawl. ‘I know I value his advice, but he is terribly busy with his practice. So many patients to see, so little time for anything else.’
