Page 77

“I gather you did this abominable act before I told you about Henrietta’s condition and this was your idea of a goodbye letter to her?”

He just stared at her.

“Seducer of young women!” she said fiercely. “You will marry Henrietta now. You will. And your punishment will be that you will have neither heir nor child.”

Darby felt as if he were facing Medusa. A woman he had 212 Eloisa

James

thought a sweet-faced motherly type had metamorphosed into a gorgon. She glared at him like the avenging mothers of Greek tragedy.

Luckily Henrietta blinked her eyes and appeared to be recovering from her swoon. Darby still hadn’t said a word, hadn’t denied writing the letter nor denied spending the night with her. It was as if his brain had frozen. The dowager countess swung her attention to her stepdaughter. “How could you do this, Henrietta,” she hissed. Suddenly Lady Holkham appeared to realize that seventeen fascinated pairs of eyes were watching her. She rose from her chair and drew herself up to her full height.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to announce the engagement of my beloved daughter Lady Henrietta, to Mr. Simon Darby,” she said. Her gaze flashed around the table, leaving scorch marks in its path.

Esme was feeling all the pleasure of a successful stage manager and so she didn’t hesitate to back up the leading lady. She clapped her hands and gestured to Slope, who immediately began uncorking champagne and sending his underlings around the table with brimming glasses. Millicent gave Darby one last measured stare that promised to remove his manly parts if he didn’t dance to her bidding, then sat back into her chair, her chest heaving. Darby felt as if he were watching everything without really participating, and if he was correct, Henrietta was in something of the same state. He didn’t believe for a moment that she had genuinely fainted. Not unless she could faint while simultaneously keeping her back rigid. He leaned over. “What do you want me to do?” he asked in a low voice.

She just looked at him, seemingly struck dumb.

“As God’s my witness, I didn’t write that letter.” For some reason it seemed important that she know that he would never have wantonly destroyed her reputation. Fool for Love

213

She nodded.

“Well, all we have to do is find out who wrote it,” he said, with an awkward feeling of gratitude. Henrietta obviously believed him without hesitation. It would be impossible for those blue eyes of hers to conceal anything. “There’s nothing to worry about. Of course your stepmother will naturally retract her demand once she understands that you and I have had nothing to do with each other. I would suggest that we retire to the drawing room and discuss this with a modicum of privacy. But do you have any idea who wrote it?”

She nodded again.

“Who?”

“I did,” she whispered.

< 30 =

Confessions Are a Private Affair

“You wrote the love letter to yourself?”

“Yes,” she said. “I was lonely.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I never had a debut, obviously. There wasn’t any reason to, under the circumstances. But it meant that I never made any friends, so we aren’t invited to house parties and things of that nature. I just wanted—”

“A letter.”

“No. A love letter. I didn’t think I would ever receive such a letter, so I wrote one to myself.”

He couldn’t fault her for that. It was heartbreaking, but hardly corrupt.

“But I wrote the letter for myself,” Henrietta insisted. “How could I know that it would go astray? It was just a pretense.”

“That pretense has ruined my life,” Darby pointed out. Henrietta swallowed. “Surely your life isn’t ruined,” she said. “Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh? True, you will have a wife, but most men do take a wife at some point in their lives.”

He raised his head and looked at her. The warm brown of Fool for Love

215

his eyes had darkened almost to black. A clear little voice in the back of her head cataloged the color change and thought: that’s a warning sign.

“Ruined seems a strong description,” she persisted.