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‘Then you must go where you’re needed, Lady Thorndike.’
Lady Thorndike. Henri’s insides twisted and she saw she had hurt him. She hadn’t intended to do that. ‘She’s my aunt. I look after her.’
‘She has a son.’
‘She depends on me.’
‘You are putting your responsibilities first.’ He gave her a dark sardonic look. ‘Who could fault that?’
‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’ She worried her bottom lip. This interview was proving far harder than she had dreamt possible. ‘I thought you’d understand.’
He pulled the brim of his hat down so it shaded his face. ‘I do.’
And she knew from the tone of his voice that he’d seen through her ruse. He was well aware of why she was going. But to stay was to risk temptation.
‘Everything will be as it was, Montemorcy. Life will return to normal. There won’t be a need to wager again.’
He caught her arm and pulled her close. Her body collided with his. His sandalwood scent surrounded her and held her. ‘I’ll let you go…this time…Henri.’
His whispered words sent an aching thrill arcing through her body. She flicked her tongue over her lips and resisted the temptation to turn her head, meet his mouth and discover precisely how intoxicating his lips were. She broke free.
‘The carriage is waiting.’ Her voice sounded thick and husky.
His knuckle traced the outline of her lips. ‘We’ll finish this conversation later. I promise.’
* * *
Raised voices in the drawing room greeted Henri when she returned to Dyvels. She breathed deeply, allowing the unchanging scent of beeswax polish, mothballs and old wood to fill her lungs. This was the place she had found refuge and had regained meaning to her life. She liked the constant unchanging rhythms. She knew who she was here. With Robert, she was someone different. Here, she’d become once again Lady Thorndike, instead of Henri. And Lady Thorndike knew her late husband was irreplaceable. Her heart was not going to be touched again or hurt again. She couldn’t bear the thought of going through that all-consuming grief again. Never again would one person have the power to reduce her to a gibbering wreck.
‘You are home, my lady.’ Reynolds bowed and his face betrayed nothing but welcome. ‘A most unexpected pleasure.’
‘Aunt Frances sent a note.’ Henri gave a polite smile.
‘We are glad to have you back. There has been a nasty tempest brewing. My lady is in despair. And it was good of you to come…’
The voices in the library became raised again. Henri tilted her head. ‘Stormy weather?’
‘My lady has discovered his lordship’s debts. They are worse than his father’s.’
Debts. Henri stood still. Sebastian had promised.
‘I see. Thank you, Reynolds.’
Henri opened the door to the library. Both voices stopped immediately. Aunt Francis stood frozen with several pieces of paper in her hand and Sebastian wore his sullen face.
‘Henrietta, my dear,’ Aunt Frances said, recovering first. She reached for her shawl and placed it about her shoulders. ‘You are so good to me. You may deal with this unpleasantness as I fear I’m not strong enough. Sebastian, tell your cousin what you’ve done.’
She rose and, after kissing Henri’s cheek, departed the room. A muffled sob sounded from the hallway.
‘How bad is it, Sebastian?’ Henri asked after the library had fallen into silence. ‘How did you disgrace yourself this time? You mightn’t care for Corbridge and its provincial society, but it is your mother’s home.’
‘It could be worse.’ He gave a shrug and began to play with the letter opener, tossing it from hand to hand. ‘I simply lost more than I bargained for at the gaming table, but it will be put right. I’m determined to look after Mama and to keep her in the style she is accustomed to. Me! This wagering with strange men for Mama’s sake must stop, Henrietta. It was wrong of you.’
‘I…I…’ Henri put her hand to her throat.
‘Dear Mama is worrying over nothing. It won’t come to selling this house and her widow’s portion is safe. All I did was ask her for a loan just until my rents come through. You would think I had asked her to commit murder.’
‘This is the real reason why Robert Montemorcy did not want you to court Sophie—your inability to manage money. He thought you a fortune hunter of the worst sort.’ Henri put a hand to her head and sank into the winged armchair. Her ankle throbbed slightly. ‘The sale of Chestercamp wiped the slate clean.’
‘My money situation is my business, cousin. It is temporary, until the rents come in. A gentleman’s debts of honour must be paid.’
