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‘Precisely,’ said Henrietta.
‘Mr Wythenshawe is to commence our evening’s entertainment,’ said Lady Twining, including Henrietta in the dark look she was shooting Richard’s way, ‘by reading his latest work, “Sylvia by Moonlight”.’
To the background of polite applause, Henrietta tried in vain to extricate her wrist from Richard’s determined grasp.
‘Do let go of me, Richard, you are hurting me.’
‘Now that,’ said Lord Deben, slowly uncoiling himself from his chair, ‘is something that I cannot permit.’
The portly poet laid his sheaf of paper on the lectern and cleared his throat noisily.
Richard let go of Henrietta’s wrist, but only to round on Lord Deben.
‘Who are you to say you cannot permit it? You have no authority over me, my lord.’
‘I claim the right of any gentleman to intercede when he sees a lady being mistreated.’
‘Hark!’ said the poet on the podium, shooting a dagger-like look in their direction.
‘Mistreated? Fustian,’ said Richard. ‘I’m doing the very opposite. I’m here to rescue her, same as any of her brothers would do if they knew the company she’d fallen into. We’ve known each other so long that a little tussle like that between us don’t signify.’
Lord Deben raised one eyebrow disdainfully. ‘You may have known her since she was in the cradle, but that does not mean you can take liberties with her person.’
‘And you would know all about taking liberties, wouldn’t you?’
‘Richard, will you keep your voice down,’ Henrietta hissed. ‘Everyone is staring.’
For they were. Nobody was paying the portly poet on the dais the slightest bit of attention. They were far more interested by the drama playing out on the front row.
‘And you shouldn’t pay any attention to gossip.’
‘Especially not if it originates from the scheming jade I saw pouring her poison into your ears earlier,’ said Lord Deben.
Richard opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly trying to make up his mind whether to pursue the argument he’d started, or veer off to defend Miss Waverley.
Encouraged by the brief cessation in hostilities, Mr Wythenshaw started up again.
‘Hark!’ he said. ‘The vixen’s tortured cry...’
But Richard had decided where his priorities lay. ‘I don’t believe the bits about you, of course, Hen. I know you wouldn’t demean yourself by chasing after a man,’ he said, making Henrietta blush for shame, since she’d done exactly that in his case.
‘What I do believe is that he—’ he jerked his head in Lord Deben’s direction ‘—might have turned your head with a lot of insincere flattery. Stock in trade of a rake. Shouldn’t have to tell you that sort of thing, but there, you ain’t up to snuff. Not your fault. Led a very sheltered life.’
Henrietta couldn’t help bridling at his assumption that any flattery Lord Deben had poured into her ears must naturally have been insincere. But what was worse was the way he would keep talking to her as though she was about five and needed a nanny.
‘So you think it is your job to rescue me from him, do you?’
‘Well, obviously it is.’
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Lord Deben’s lips twitch. Well, she was glad he was finding this funny. It was clearly her mission in life to provide him with entertainment.
Her eyes smarting, she let her frustration out on Richard.
‘So, where have you been then,’ she demanded, ‘all these weeks since I have been in town, if you think I am too hen-witted to defend myself from the wiles of all the rakes and rascals who stalk London’s ballrooms?’
‘A man has...a man...’ His eyes flickered guiltily to where Miss Waverley was sitting. ‘That is not your concern,’ he said pompously. ‘The point is that I happen to know that it is downright dangerous to permit a man like that to flirt with you. I can see how you might have been taken in. But it has to stop now.’
She lifted her chin and noticed Lord Deben’s mouth slide into an appreciative grin. In spite of feeling that at that moment she had never come so close to hating anyone, she kept her eyes fixed on Richard.
