Page 2 of Dare it all for Love

“Everything?” he repeated, dry as dust.

“Well, only the interesting bits,” Henry said, clapping him on the back as they walked back to the lane that led to the nearest pub.

The two men enjoyed a pint, reminiscing about years gone by, though it was Henry who did most of the talking, with Sterling adding an occasional remark or grunt of amusement. He was still a serious, introverted fellow, much like his father.

“Suppose I’d better go,” Henry said, giving his empty glass a regretful glance. “Harry will have my hide if I’m late for dinner.”

“Ah, eating at the big house, then, with all the man traps?” Sterling said with a devilish glint in his dark eyes.

“Thankfully, most of the women Harry was trying to pair me off with are gone now, but there’s still some of her friends and their daughters. God help me, I think one of them has determined to set her cap at me.”

Sterling smirked at Henry’s morose tone. “Ah, yes. Awful testing, having a pretty young woman chasing after you.”

Henry scowled at him. “She’s just a silly child.”

“How old?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Henry shrugged. “Twenty-two, twenty-three, maybe.”

Sterling’s eyebrows went up. “Hardly a child. I’m only twenty-six.”

“Really?” Henry frowned at the man, startled. Of course, if he’d thought about it, he’d known that. He hadn’t been away that long, after all. Sterling seemed older than his years, though, but perhaps it was just his serious manner. “Well, either way, she’s too young for me.”

“Not by most people’s reckoning. You’re the biggest catch around these parts now Viscount Oakley’s gone.”

Henry grimaced, knowing that was likely true. “Perhaps you ought to look closer to home for a fine catch,” he replied with annoyance.

“Me?” Sterling made a disparaging sound. “Not with those high-bred ladies. Too low down the pecking order to catch one of them. Don’t have your pretty manners.”

There was a faintly mocking tone to his words, and possibly a thread of anger which made Henry wonder. “Nonsense. You’re a gentleman, educated and with a fine house, land, you’re prospering nicely from what I’ve seen. More so than even your father managed. Perhaps you’ve no title, but neither have I, and you’re a deal younger than me, which ought to give you an edge.”

Sterling gave him a narrow-eyed look of suspicion.

“What edge? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Henry said decisively, “that you are coming to Holbrook for dinner. A handsome fellow like you is just the thing to keep the young ladies out of my hair.”

“Oh, no.” Sterling shook his head. “Absolutely—”

“Shan’t take no for an answer,” Henry replied, getting to his feet. “Harry won’t mind a bit. I’ll meet you at Lower Sheep House Field in an hour. Don’t be late.”

He flashed an outraged Sterling a quick grin and hurried away before the fellow could wriggle out of it.

Florence stared at herself in the looking glass and frowned as she submitted to her own stern, internal monologue.

You will not behave like a ninny, Florence Knight. Staring at Henry Stanhope like a besotted mooncalf and sighing will only give him a disgust of you, so this lunatic behaviour will cease and desist at once.

She sighed anyway. Well, Henry wasn’t in sight, so that was surely allowed. He was just so… compelling, and handsome, and sophisticated and witty, and… wouldn’t be the least bit interested in someone as young and silly as he thought she was. She wished Arabella were here. She had confided her ridiculous infatuation to her friend, who had completely understood her feelings. Arabella was happily married now, though, and had returned to Royle House to be blissful with Lord Bainbridge. Florence squashed an unwelcome and uncharacteristic surge of jealousy. Just because the fellow she had fallen ridiculously and hopelessly in love with refused to so much as look at her was no reason to be so utterly tedious as to resent everyone else’s happiness. With the scolding over, she got to her feet and made her way downstairs.

Florence could not help but feel relieved when she entered the parlour. Most of the guests, including the sophisticated widows Lady St Clair had invited, had left that morning, which meant she might have half a chance of conversing with her elusive heart’s desire, Mr Henry Stanhope. Assuming he ever so much as glanced in her direction. Though she had only seen him for the first time here at Holbrook just days ago, she had the strangest feeling that there was no other man who would ever capture her attention as thoroughly as he had. She did not know exactly what it was about him, only that he drew her to him whenever he was in the room, and she could concentrate on nothing else. She made her way over to Evie, who was laughing at something Louis César had said.

“Good evening, Monsieur le Comte,” she said as he bowed politely. “I hope my sister isn’t teasing you?”

“Yes, she is,” he replied with a sad shake of his head. “She is a dreadful girl and I wish you would take her away.”

Florence grinned, knowing he didn’t mean it. She had been worried by the rather odd friendship between the comte and her little sister, even speaking to her mother about it. She knew Mama was keeping a close eye on them too, but now she saw what Mama had told her, that Louis César regarded Evie much as she did, as a sister. For Evie’s part, she truly did not seem to see the man’s stunning good looks. This bewildered Florence, who found them somewhat intimidating. She could not imagine being married to a man who was so much more beautiful than you were. It would be a constant source of stress and anxiety, as other women would always want him and try to take him from you.

“You are only sulking because I won our bet,” Evie said, her plump cheeks dimpling as she gave a smug smile. “I told you Ash’s waistcoat would outshine yours, and it does.”