Fleur floundered for words and only just found them when Mr. Rundell rejoined them, and Henry began speaking and—
“Why are you buying a betrothal ring?”
Henry stopped mid-speak. “Generally, they are given for one’s intended.” He turned back to the counter.
“Youhadan intended,” she blurted.
Mr. Rundell eased away from the display of jewels.
Resentment or bitterness was the expected response from him, and not the smile he wore.
“Thank you for the reminder, Fleur. I was referring to a new one.” He motioned Mr. Rundell forward.
She held a palm up, stopping him.
Fleur would have felt bad about the back-and-forth dance they had the older gentleman doing, but…
“You have a new betrothed,already.” And he’d been kissing Fleur.
“Should I not?”
Something twisted viciously inside her chest.
Hart had insisted he hadn’t loved Meghan, that their almost-union had been nothing more than a business arrangement. Then he had kissed Fleur like he wanted to own her. Not that she wanted to be owned by anyone, let alone him. She didn’t. But…this level of coldness…
“Fleur?”
Her heart hammered in a way she didn’t at all like.
Fleur forced herself to look at him.
Henry wore a small smile. A befuddled one. It lent him a boyish look and made him far more open and human and likable and so manyotherthings than had he worn his aloof, ducal non-smile.
Her mouth felt oddly dry, parched like she hadn’t had a sip in days. That must be why she didn’t recognize her own voice. “Who is she?” This woman he believed worthy of his ring and name, and not just a passionate embrace.
He furrowed his big, noble brow.
Fleur wanted to rescue her reticule and give him another sound thwacking about the head and shoulders.
“Your future duchess,” she clarified calmly. She fought following up with, “Who in thunderation do you think I’m asking about, you big dunderhead?”
“I have yet to decide.”
An inconvenient lightness stole through her. Only because he was her friend, and she did not want him rushing into marriage with justanyone.
“Much like a breakfast plate, Your Grace?”
Henry didn’t give even a crack of a smile.
How tiring to take oneself so seriously all the time.
“All right, then. Shall we?” Fleur brought the proprietor back with a smile. “Mr. Rundell, we are ready to see your finest.”
Chapter 11
“Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?”
Lord Byron
