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She closed her eyes and bowed her head. What she wished she could do, more than anything, was to bend down, cup his face in her hands and tell him to go away and think about it. Then, if he really meant it, to ask her again in a couple of days. In private.
During which time she could seriously consider whether she could cope with a lifetime of wondering where he was, and what he was doing, every time they were apart.
For several agonisingly long seconds it felt as though the entire room was holding its breath.
‘He will never be faithful to you, Hen,’ said Richard. ‘He will make you miserable.’
Yes. She’d accepted that one way or another, Lord Deben was going to break her heart.
Because if she didn’t marry him, he would certainly go out and find someone else. She’d already had a taste of how painful it could be, imagining him in the arms of another woman.
And at least if she was his wife, she would know that he would always come back to her once he’d tired of his temporary diversions.
‘On the contrary,’ said Lord Deben vehemently. ‘I shall be faithful unto death, now that I have found a woman to whom it will be worth being faithful.’
There was a collective gasp from the bystanders.
Henrietta opened her eyes and looked at him again. ‘Do...do you really mean that?’
‘Of course he doesn’t mean it!’
‘Richard, will you please keep out of this. Just because you don’t think I’m worth making any effort for, does not mean that I’m not worth it. And whether he means it or not, I’m jolly well going to marry him.’
She couldn’t let this chance slip through her fingers. She would never forgive herself. He might be asking her for all the wrong reasons, he might never make her happy, but at least there was a chance that he might. A chance she would never have if she refused him now.
‘Thank goodness,’ said Lord Deben, getting to his feet. ‘You have no idea how uncomfortable it is kneeling in such a fashion, in evening breeches. At one point I began to fear you had forgotten me altogether while you were squabbling with your childhood playmate.’
What a ridiculous thing to say. As if anyone or anything could make her forget him.
Though at the same time, it was good to hear him reduce everything that had passed between her and Richard to its proper perspective, for her own sake, as much as the assembled company. They had never loved each other. They had just grown up together, and almost, disastrously, drifted into a marriage that would have pleased both their families. Richard would be able to see that in time, too, though at the moment he looked absolutely furious.
There was just the tiny matter of her own conscience still to come to terms with. For whatever had prompted Lord Deben to propose to her, she was well aware she had just taken full and shameless advantage of the situation to get exactly what she wanted.
Him. For better or worse. For the rest of her life.
She hung her head.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Lord Deben growled softly.
And then she felt his hand under her chin, lifting her mouth to his so that he could kiss her.
And being Lord Deben, he did not deliver a chaste kiss, the kind anyone might expect a newly betrothed man to bestow upon his bride-to-be.
No, he crushed her into his chest and kissed her fully and thoroughly.
Almost as though he was staking his claim upon her.
She could dimly hear gasps of outrage, then murmurs, and finally giggles as the kiss went on and on, and she was reduced to clinging to his lapels to stay upright, since her knees had turned to jelly. At one point she dimly registered the sound of footsteps stomping away. Richard, she supposed, furious at being balked of control of what he would consider her substantial dowry.
And then an increasingly strident female voice, repeatedly saying, ‘My lord! I must protest!’
Lady Twining was desperately attempting to restore decorum.
‘Please, my lord...’ She was still wringing her hands, Henrietta noted as Lord Deben turned to frown at her over his shoulder. He looked fierce enough to make her quail, yet she managed to squeak, ‘Please try to remember that this is a respectable drawing room. You cannot carry on like this here.’
From within the charmed circle of Lord Deben’s arms, Henrietta was incapable of feeling guilty for embarrassing her hostess. Once she’d recovered from the initial shock, Lady Twining would thoroughly enjoy recounting every detail of the dramatic events that had disrupted her evening. Everyone would want to know all about it and Henrietta could just picture her
