Marjorie waved her hand in front of her. “I have no doubt that those rumors are greatly exaggerated.”
“I can’t imagine that to be true.”
“You do not need to concern yourself with such things,” Marjorie said, shifting in her seat. “If I am interested in Lord Featherstone as a suitor, then that is my choice.”
“I am just worried about you.”
“Don’t be,” Marjorie asserted. “I don’t need your help with finding a suitor. I daresay you are too invested in my business.”
Henrietta reared back slightly. “How can you say that to me?” she asked. “We are sisters.”
Marjorie abruptly rose from her seat. “I find that I need to lie down before our ride with Lord Brixton and Lord Charles.”
After Marjorie left the room, her mother said, “Your sister was right in what she said.”
“She is?”
“It is time that you learned your place.” Her mother rose and walked over to the door. “If you continue with this behavior, you will never be wed.”
Henrietta leaned back in her seat as her mother departed from the room. Good heavens, maybe she didn’t want to get married. It would be better to be alone than never be able to truly express herself.
Charles sat at the desk in the study as he attempted to write an article forThe Morning Post. He had written many over the years, but for some reason his attention was wandering. He loved writing about antiquities, but his mind kept straying towards Miss Henrietta. He wasn’t sure why that was; it wasn’t as if he favored her. No, he most assuredly did not. But there was something about her that made him pause.
His brother’s voice came from the doorway. “You look troubled.”
“I am not.”
“Then what is wrong?” Roswell asked as he stepped further into the room.
Charles leaned back in the chair. “I am writing about an antique ring that was sold at the market. It was found while a worker was digging a hole on a property in Kent.”
“That sounds…” His brother’s voice trailed off, “boring.”
“I didn’t tell you why the find was so important,” Charles said. “It was engraved with a silhouette of a young woman, with a runic inscription.”
Roswell walked over to the drink cart. “I’m afraid you can’t dig up anything without finding some type of relic here.”
“That is true, but each finding is significant.”
As he took off the lid to the decanter, Roswell said, “Your assignment sounds easy enough.”
“It is,” Charles replied. “I suppose I must be tired from last night.”
Roswell poured two drinks and placed the decanter down. “Are you referring to the intense game of whist we played with Ellie and Emma?”
“I am.”
“My wife continually surprises me,” Roswell said, walking over to him. “I had no idea she was so proficient at whist.”
Charles accepted a glass from his brother, then remarked, “Ellie is a remarkable woman.”
“That she is.”
“Where is she now?”
“She went shopping with Mother and Emma on Bond Street.”
Charles took a sip of his drink. “That sounds entirely more fun than going on a ride through Hyde Park with Brixton and the Whiston sisters.”
