Page 37 of One Waltz with the Viscount

‘It is none of our business.’

‘Of course it is. Henry is our friend.’

‘Louisa,’ Lord Shrewsbury said, his voice firm, ‘you need to let the man live his own life. If he wants to gallivant around London with Miss Shepherd, then that is his choice. He is thirty-two and perfectly capable of looking after himself.’

‘Past endeavours suggest that is not entirely true.’

‘You cannot blame the man for falling in love. We were all young and naïve once. He is hardly going to make the same mistake again, and if he does we have to let him. It is his life to live.’

‘I thought you were meant to be his closest friend.’

‘Friendship does not mean control, Louisa. It means supporting him whatever decision he makes.’ Lord Shrewsbury scoffed. ‘And tell me you haven’t noticed the spark in his eyes these last few days. The man has looked half-dead for two years, finally there is a bit of life about him.’

‘You cannot think she could be good for him. Maybe for a few days, a throwaway girl for fooling around with, but he has been through this before. What he needs is a wife from his own social class, someone he can introduce into society and who will become his Countess one day when he inherits the earldom.’

‘Someone who will make him miserable you mean?’

‘Oh, pish-posh. You do not know that. And even if he only finds his wife mildly tolerable, he will have other things that give him pleasure. His friendships, not being ostracised from society...’

‘Louisa...’

‘I’m not meddling.’

‘Then why is that young woman sitting in our drawing room looking petrified, no doubt wondering what to do when a Countess kidnaps her.’

‘I have not kidnapped her.’

‘I doubt you gave her much choice in coming here.’ Lord Shrewsbury sighed loudly. ‘I know you have a particular regard for Henry. I have made my peace with it, but you cannot keep interfering in his life. He is very patient with you, I know he holds you in high esteem, but he will push you away if he thinks you have overstepped the mark.’

The couple fell quiet outside the door and Sarah hastily made her way back to her chair, managing to refill her teacup and sit down before Lady Shrewsbury re-entered, followed closely by her husband.

‘Thank you for coming to take tea with me,’ Lady Shrewsbury said with a beaming smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘And for playing that lovely piece on the piano. Once we have finished, I will arrange for a carriage to take you back to your lodgings.’

Sarah smiled cautiously. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘And we wish you luck in your quest to find your sister. If there is anything we can do to help, then please just ask.’

‘You have been generous enough already,’ Sarah said. She did not want to owe Lady Shrewsbury anything, although if she thought any intervention from them would help her to find Selina quicker, then she would do whatever it took. But there wasn’t much the Countess could do at this time.

Quickly she drank her tea, eager to be out of the house and back in her own lodgings. Just as she was about to declare herself ready to leave, there was a murmur of voices in the hall outside.

‘Lord Routledge,’ the footman announced as Henry walked through the door.

He looked so surprised to see Sarah sitting there, drinking tea with Lady Shrewsbury, it was almost comical.

Chapter Twelve

‘Miss Shepherd?’ Henry said, reeling. He had left her at home only an hour earlier, and now she was sitting with his friends, sipping tea, looking right at home in their drawing room.

No, he thought, that wasn’t quite right. Miss Shepherd looked decidedly uncomfortable.

‘Good afternoon, Lord Routledge.’

‘I do not wish to be rude, but what is Miss Shepherd doing here, Louisa?’ he said, turning his attention to his friend’s wife.

Lady Shrewsbury had been born to be a Countess, raised with the sole intention that she marry some wealthy gentleman, provide him with children and be a dutiful wife. Every lesson of her childhood had been focussed on that one goal, but it had also prepared her well for moments like this. She sat looking as serene as a summer’s morning, her hands folded demurely in her lap, her face set into an expression of gentle curiosity.

‘I asked her to come for tea and cake. We’ve had a lovely afternoon. Miss Shepherd even played a piece on the piano for me. Have you heard her play?’