“Quite frankly, I am not an antiquities man,” Mr. Drew remarked.
Charles did not appear to take offense. “It is not a pastime for everyone,” he agreed.
“I prefer to look forward and not dwell on the past,” Mr. Drew continued. “After all, can an old clay pot tell us about our futures?”
“No, but it does give us a glimpse into our past,” Charles said.
Mr. Drew looked unimpressed. “For what purpose?”
“Do you not care to acquire knowledge about what happened to our predecessors?” Charles asked, his voice betraying his emotion.
“I do not,” Mr. Drew said. “They are dead, and they can’t help me anymore.”
“That is a sad way to look at it.”
Mr. Drew shrugged. “Perhaps, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle around,” he said. “I have an estate to run.”
“As do I,” Charles responded, “but I also own a percentage in a company that buys and sells antiquities from all over the world.”
“I do hope that pays off for you, my lord,” Mr. Drew remarked dryly.
“I believe you have vastly underestimated the number of people who are interested in antiquities,” Charles stated.
“Or you have overestimated them,” Mr. Drew countered.
Charles visibly stiffened. “I assure you that is not the case,” he said. “My company has acquired some of the rarest finds and sells them to collectors who share our passion.”
Henrietta felt the tension between the two men compelling her to intercede. “I also share a love of antiquities.”
Mr. Drew glanced over at her. “You do?” he asked.
“There is something fascinating about holding an object in your hand that has been around for centuries,” Henrietta replied, “if not longer.”
“I suppose you make a valid argument,” Mr. Drew muttered, unconvinced.
Henrietta turned her attention towards her sister and Lord Brixton, who were walking in front of them. She saw Marjorie’s face light up at something Lord Brixton said, and she found herself envious of them. It appeared as if they were enjoying themselves.
With a sigh, Henrietta decided it would be best if they spoke only on polite conversational topics. “Are the flowers not beautiful when in full bloom?” she asked, turning her attention towards the flowers that were growing off the path.
“That they are,” Mr. Drew was quick to reply.
Botheration. Even she found the conversation rather dull.
Henrietta sat on the settee in her bedchamber as her thoughts repeatedly turned to Charles. At some point, completely unwittingly, she had developed feelings for him. It was utter foolishness on her part. They were friends, nothing more. It didn’t matter that she found him to be the most intriguing man she had ever known.
It would be best if she squashed her growing attraction for him before it got out of hand, especially since Charles was only spending time with her to help salvage her reputation. He was being honorable, and she needed to be mindful of that. Besides, he’d given her no indication that he truly favored her.
She sighed. Why did he spark an interest inside of her that she found she couldn’t douse? She had yet to discover one thing that she did not like about Charles.
A knock came at the door, breaking her out of her musings.
“Enter,” she ordered.
The door opened and Abigail stepped into the room. “Are you ready to dress for dinner?”
“I am,” Henrietta said, rising from the settee.
Abigail walked over to the armoire and removed a blue floral gown. “How was your ride through Hyde Park today with your sister and Lord Featherstone?” she asked as she went to drape the gown on the bed.
