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‘Aunt, you are hiding something. Did you give Sebastian money?’ Henri leant forwards and caught her aunt’s cold hand. ‘Should we send Reynolds out searching for him? Do you think his visiting included a stop at the King’s Head?’
‘Sebastian is securing his future, but had no wish to worry you.’ Her aunt squeezed Henri’s hand before letting go. ‘He is concerned that you remained unwell. He thinks your nerves were affected in the dog attack. You’ll be proud of him. He is taking responsibility for his life.’
A distinct cold shiver crept down Henri’s spine. Sebastian taking charge of his life could quite possibly end in disaster; what was more worrying, he had enticed his mother to lie to her. She swallowed hard. Sebastian would not, he could not bring her into his scheme this time. She was finished with rescuing him.
‘Is this why you told me he was visiting the neighbours? I am no child to be kept in the dark with a pretty fable. Why doesn’t that bring me comfort?’
‘He wanted it to be a lovely surprise for you!’
‘What have you lied to me about, Aunt?’
‘Lying is far too strong a word. I prefer—giving only part of the truth. There was little point in making you anxious. I agreed with Sebastian on that point. He had to take the risk and not always wonder. If you were well, you’d have agreed. You have always helped out with such schemes. Dear Sebastian has always been grateful…even if he hasn’t always said so in so many words.’
Henri crossed her arms. It was bad enough having Sebastian being difficult, but Aunt Frances was concealing things from her as well. Her nerves being damaged! Sebastian told some rather large lies. It was more likely the fact she refused to abandon her friendship with Robert Montemorcy and had given him no help in his attempted conquest of Sophie. Sebastian wouldn’t have drawn her into an intrigue without her knowledge. She refused to be ensnared.
‘You are treating me like a child of six, rather than a widow of twenty-six.’ Henri bit out each word. ‘I’ve never suffered from nerves, not even when Edmund died. And whatever mess Sebastian makes, I will be the one who has to clean it up, just as I always do.’
‘But you’re so good at it. And you’re worrying over nothing. Sebastian will sort it out. He promised.’
‘Nerves are for women with far too much time on their hands. To even imply that is grossly insulting.’
‘You do him a great disservice.’ Her aunt reached for her book and opened it. ‘He wants to clear all the debts and start his future free and clear. I thought he ought to be given the chance. He is my only child.’
‘His future? He has gone back to London? Or has he gone to the Continent?’ Henri’s heart lifted. She was not going to have to face Sebastian and his accusations of betrayal if he learnt about Robert. With any luck, he never would.
‘He took my carriage this morning and promised to return in three days’ time with his fortune made. He even promised to buy back Chestercamp. He was always such a sweet boy. I dare say we can get on with the governess cart or a sedan chair.’
Henri laughed. Her heart suddenly felt light. It made it easier somehow that Sebastian was gone. She had worried that he might ask awkward questions or, even worse, guess. As it was, a few days’ grace would enable her to figure out how she would dissemble when the inevitable scathing remark about Robert Montemorcy came. ‘I wonder why he did not take his carriage. He knows your carriage is slow and badly sprung. It is liable to break down at any moment.’
Sounds of raised voices filled the library, drowning out her aunt’s reply. Henri frowned as her body trembled. One of the voices was Robert’s. And something had angered him.
Henri put her hand to her mouth. Fear numbed her brain. Someone had seen them. It only could be that. Nothing else. Her life was about to irrevocably change.
‘Out of my way, man!’ Robert bellowed. ‘I want answers. Answers only Lady Thorndike can give. I will not be deterred by a servant!’
Reynolds blocked the entrance to the drawing room. Around his bulk, Henri could see a desperate Robert. At her signal and with an urbane bow, Reynolds allowed Robert into the drawing room. Robert stumbled once, straightened his greatcoat and strode into the room. His looming presence made the room seem small.
‘Well, Lady Thorndike, what do you have to say for yourself? Are you proud of all that you achieved this morning?’ Robert’s harsh accusatory words cut through her, stabbing her in the heart. He’d condemned her of a crime, but she was innocent. The only crime she’d committed was to give in to his seduction.
