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I did my best to read the expression in his eyes, but I found it difficult to discern. If I was not mistaken, he looked more sorrowful than abashed. If he was disappointed, under the false assumption that I was about to ruin the peace of his evening, he could not be further from the truth.
“I have a proposition, Henry.” I lowered myself slowly onto the chair opposite the one he had previously occupied, and he matched me so we might be on equal footing. “The supper dance is not for another hour yet, I assume?”
He looked to the clock on the mantel. “Correct. If not a little longer.”
“What say you we remain here and continue to read for that hour? Then we can join the ball again prior to supper so we might not be missed when it matters most.”
“Do you not wish to . . . no, of course not.” He smiled, a soft chuckle escaping his throat. “You would have preferred to skip the entirety of the evening, I assume, let alone the dancing.”
“Yes, but since that is not possible, I will happily settle for skipping one hour.”
Henry looked over his shoulder to the door and back to me, uncertainty in his blue eyes. His brown curly hair was mussed, a lock falling over his brow. He usually looked so put together that the disarray seemed strange. For a man so typically neat and tidy, his strong resemblance to Benedict right now was slightly alarming.
“Are you well, Henry?” I asked softly.
“Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the pages of his book. “I have no desire to dance tonight, that is all.”
“I never have a desire to dance,” I said lightly.
To think, if Henry had been attending the Huttons’ ball at the close of the Season, would he have been the man I found myself alone with in the library? It hardly mattered, but I looked at Henry’s troubled eyes and wondered. It did occur to me, however, that he was not the flirt his brother was, and had we discovered ourselves alone then, we likely would have done nothing more than remain on opposite sides of the room and look at books—not been caught in something akin to an embrace.
“What are you reading?”
I lifted the book so he might see the spine. “It is a favorite of mine. I found after the fright Udolpho gave me that I wanted to seek the comfort of a familiar story.”
“There is nothing like a familiar book to soothe one’s troubled soul.”
“I will not admit to possessing a troubled soul, but otherwise I wholeheartedly agree.”
I found the place where I’d left off reading earlier and turned my attention to the novel in my lap. My eyes had not yet reached the end of the page when I felt the heat of Henry’s observation, and I raised my eyebrows. “Is there something else you’d like to discuss?”
Henry cleared his throat and seemed to shake himself. “No. Enjoy your story, Felicity, and let us both hope that no other gentle souls will come in search of a respite.”
“Or a place to keep secret assignations,” I said with little tact. It received the desired effect in the form of Henry’s chuckling, and my attention fell again to my book.
* * *
The hour of quiet reading passed uninterrupted, and Henry slid his slim novel into his pocket and offered me his arm.
“Is it time already?” I complained. “Perhaps we ought to feign illness and go home.”
“Come, child.”
“I am no child.”
“No? Your whining was reminiscent of one.”
I couldn’t help but swat his hand away. “I can be surly as one, too, if you’d like to see.”
“I’d rather not.” He shot me a smile, and I closed my book and tucked it into my reticule.
We made it to the corridor and back toward the door that led to the refreshment room. Henry seemed to be of the same mind that it would be wise to slip into the small room first instead of going directly to the ballroom. He opened the door and gestured for me to precede him, and I nearly stuttered to a halt when my gaze met James’s. He stood at the refreshment table accepting a glass of lemonade, and I watched his eyes lift over my head and harden upon reaching Henry.
I crossed directly to his side.
“Felicity, I wondered where you were,” James said. “I should have known you would have found a place to hide.”
“I was not hiding from you,” I said, hearing the defensive bite to my tone.
The tightening around his mouth and eyes revealed that he was unhappy with my choice, regardless of my motive.
Supper passed in great discomfort. I was not seated anywhere near James, though my table partners, Mr. Dodwell and the vicar, were both polite and did not require much of me in terms of conversation. Lady Edith was placed at the far end of the table, her gaze straying my direction in regular intervals.
On the ride back to Chelton at the end of the night, all in our party were in a sour mood. It was clear that the evening had not gone according to anyone’s plan. Benedict, even, was quieter than was typical for him, and I trained my gaze on the moonlit countryside out the window for the duration of the ride. When we reached Chelton, I took myself upstairs before I could be waylaid by anyone wishing to question my actions or provide any instruction.
I had erred, and I knew it well. My guilt was punishment enough for now.
