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‘You have made friends with the dog?’ Miss Armstrong screeched. ‘But I thought you hated dogs, dear Lady Thorndike. It’s why Lady Winship had to take all the pugs.’
‘All Boy wanted was a kind word and a full belly.’ Henri ignored Miss Armstrong’s interjection. Lady Winship had wanted those pugs in her life. She simply hadn’t realised it the first time she encountered them. ‘Mr Montemorcy is its acknowledged master now. And he assures me that the dog was trying to rescue me from the post-coach.’
‘I should have considered that Mr Montemorcy would be masterful. He is like that.’ Miss Armstrong fluttered her lashes and allowed her shawl to slip. ‘I’m most impressed on how the house has been improved. It was never like this in the squire’s day.’
Henri ground her teeth, holding back a swift retort. She would not sink to Miss Armstrong’s level. ‘The one thing I shall miss is seeing Mr Montemorcy dance this evening.’
He gave her a startled look.
‘Have you forgotten? You are to dance with Sophie.’
‘And with me as well, I hope,’ Miss Armstrong cooed.
At least she would be spared Miss Armstrong’s triumphant look when she led Robert out on the dance floor. Henri looked from Miss Armstrong to Robert in his immaculate evening clothes, which fitted his form precisely, highlighting the breadth of his shoulders and the elegant curve of his calf. Everyone would whisper when the pair took the floor and say what a charming couple they made. And the words would be passed from gathering to gathering in the weeks to come and she would have to endure it with a smile. She froze, listening to her sour thoughts.
She was jealous. How had that happened? She had sworn that she’d never look at a man again, not in that way. What was wrong with her? Henri put her hand to her head and tried to regain her balance. She might feel friendship for Mr Montemorcy, but nothing more. Her heart remained buried with Edmund. It had to be. Edmund was the love of her life. She’d known that when she was twelve, and she was steadfast. If her heart was changeable, what did that say about her? Her mother had always sworn that, unless she was careful, she’d become a flighty scatterbrain with no more consistency than a flea. Until now she thought she’d avoided that fate. Her hands shook.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I shall leave you to go to the ball now. For my part, I shall go to the library and discover a good book.’
‘Lady Thorndike is known for her reading of improving tomes,’ Miss Armstrong twittered, fluttering her fan, but her eyes were cold and hard. ‘Treatises on the new farming methods and such like. Lady Thorndike has pretensions of being a bluestocking like her aunt. You will have to take care, Mr Montemorcy, and see that Miss Ravel does not fall under her spell. Bluestockings do find it difficult to find a husband.’
‘I had no difficulties.’ Henri glared at Miss Armstrong.
Miss Armstrong stared back at her defiantly.
‘I fear you’re mistaken, Miss Armstrong, intelligence in a woman is something to be prized,’ Robert said.
Miss Armstrong’s mouth puckered as if she had suddenly swallowed something distasteful. ‘My mistake.’
‘I like to keep informed, but I’m far from averse to reading popular novels, as Mr Montemorcy is well aware.’ Henri took a deep breath and controlled her temper.
‘Why should Mr Montemorcy be aware of your reading taste?’ Miss Armstrong asked, unfurling her fan, but her eyes shot daggers.
‘Lady Thorndike has been a guest here for over a week, Miss Armstrong. Such things as a taste for the popular are hard to keep hidden.’ Robert’s eyes twinkled at Henri, warming her. He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing it. Warmth flooded through Henri and she pulled away. ‘I made sure that Jane Eyre was delivered earlier today, Lady Thorndike. It struck me that you might wish to amuse yourself while everyone else was at the ball. Even bluestockings need a break from treaties on cow husbandry.’
‘You are such a perfect host, Mr Montemorcy. Not many men would be as thoughtful as you,’ Miss Armstrong said, drawing her arm through Robert’s and leading him firmly away.
‘I do my best, Miss Armstrong.’ His eyes sparkled with a myriad of brown, caramel and gold. ‘Enjoy the book, Thorndike. It is more edifying than Cattle Husbandry on the North Yorkshire Moor.’
Henri stared after the pair for a few minutes as the remainder of the party made ready to leave. Her pulse still pounded. Was it simple kindness or something more that had made Robert send for the book? She had never met anyone like him before—a combination of exasperating stubbornness and the capacity for supreme thoughtfulness. Not what she expected at all. Henri put her hand to the locket that Edmund had given her on her sixteenth birthday, and found the familiar outlines provided little comfort.
