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‘Oh, no, not then. That was all Papa’s doing, of course. He wanted us to know exactly how highly he prized his heir, whilst relegating the rest of us to the sidelines. I am not exaggerating.’ She tossed her head, making her copper ringlets bounce theatrically. ‘Jonathon lived in a separate wing from the rest of us. Had his own staff, too. The aim was, I think, to prevent him from being contaminated. Not that it worked. Papa might have kept the spare children away from his precious heir, but he forgot to forbid the servants from mingling below stairs. Consequently he took the measles at the same time as the rest of us,’ she said with glee. ‘Don’t you find that hilarious?’
No. She though it was terrible. Poor lonely little boy, kept so rigorously apart from his siblings. How miserable he must have been, laid up with the measles and nobody to keep him company. Did that explain the wistful look she thought she’d glimpsed on his face when she’d been talking about her brothers?
The lonely little boy had certainly grown into a lonely man. She’d glimpsed it on the terrace that night, when he’d believed himself unobserved. He’d very soon covered it all up with the mask of cynical boredom he always affected when he was in company. But how else could he have dealt with the dreadful isolation of his childhood, except by telling himself, over and over again, that he didn’t care?
‘How awful,’ she murmured, wanting to weep for him. No wonder he’d armoured himself so thoroughly. How else would anyone deal with having his every attempt to demonstrate family unity rebuffed? He’d told her how one brother had responded when he’d gone to hear him preach. And now his sister... Oh, how could she not see how unfair she was being?
‘I am so glad you are taking heed,’ said Lady Carelyon, completely misinterpreting Henrietta’s words. ‘Because I have no doubt that if you continue to resist him, eventually he will turn on you. He will put it about that he has tired of the chase, perhaps. Start to tell people that you are not worth it. That it all began as a bet, or something. He will drag your name through the mud, my dear, and when that begins, you will need an ally. I am in the best position to defend your reputation. So—’ she flashed a smile that was a parody of what one friend might give to another ‘—we ought to begin to establish our friendship at once. To that end, I have come to bring your invitation to my dress ball next week, rather than just sending it. And do you know what the most humorous aspect of the situation is? He has actually asked me himself if I would take you up!’
She laughed—and Henrietta immediately revised her opinion that Miss Waverley’s laugh was the most unpleasant sound she had ever heard. It had not a tenth of the malice in it.
‘He says that I must include your aunt.’ She sighed, looking around the drawing room with disdain. ‘And that pretty little cousin of yours—’ she darted her a rather envious look ‘—from whom apparently you are inseparable. So sweet.’ She grimaced as though she’d just consumed about a pound of fudge in one go and was feeling faintly nauseous.
‘Well, so far I have heard they have behaved themselves prettily enough elsewhere and so I have told Carelyon. You need not worry you will meet with a snub in my house.’
Henrietta wasn’t having any trouble breathing now. She was drawing in such huge, great indignant breaths that they were making her entire body quiver. What she was having trouble doing, however, was holding back the words she only wished she was at liberty to say to this patronising, spiteful, malicious, disloyal...cat!
Oh, if only she were not in her aunt’s drawing room, she would...
She was pulled up short by a vision of Lord Deben, his sensuous mouth twitching with amusement at her quandary: to speak her mind or to mind her manners. To cause a scene in her aunt’s drawing room or to allow his sister to get away with maligning him.
He would pretend he didn’t care that his own sister was determined to think the worst of him. He would just shrug if he heard that she had been making such conjectures about him, in public.
But she could not pretend not to care.
‘Thank you for doing me the honour of condescending to invite me to your home,’ she said with frigid politeness. ‘I shall, of course, have to consult with my aunt to see what events we are already committed to.’
