Henry

by Leenie Brown

  How she longed to just be gone from town! A respite in the country would be just the thing to refresh her and prepare herself for whatever future lay before her, and then next season, she would return ready to have her aunt present matches and to help her brother accept the best offer.

  “Are you well?” her brother asked.

  Constance blinked and turned toward him. “I apologize. I was merely thinking of home and how a walk in the garden would be so refreshing.” She tipped her head and pulled her lip between her teeth. “Do you suppose we might return home before the season ends? Must we stay for all of it?”

  “We shall do no such thing, and you certainly must,” Aunt Gwladys answered before her nephew could. “You will never find a good match in the country. All the gentlemen of value are in town.”

  Constance sighed. “It is just so tiring ─ all these late nights and activities.”

  Her brother guffawed. “Tiring? To you?” He shook his head. “You shall have to devise a better excuse than that.” He wore a smirk as he looked her fully in the face. “Unless you are truly unwell. Then we can consult a physician.”

  Constance’s eyes grew wide. She disliked medical examinations and treatments of any kind. “I am well, but I am tired. This season has been disappointing.” That was the truth. Let him do with it what he would. She would not engage with him further ─ probably.

  “Due to your lack of participation,” Linton muttered. “The only thing you have thrown yourself into since we arrived is this project with Crawford.”

  “I like helping people. Projects are entertaining.” She snapped her mouth closed, once again determined to ignore her brother.

  “Then make a dress or a hat,” grumbled her brother.

  “Miss Barrett seems rather taken with Mr. Marsh. You could help her by planning a dinner as a dinner party would be very entertaining. We could invite several young ladies and a few gentlemen. We could have music and perhaps a dramatic reading.” Aunt Gwladys clapped her hands in delight at her scheme.

  Linton scowled but allowed that it was not a completely dreadful idea.

  “You do know that some of the young ladies she will invite will be there for you,” Constance said to her brother with a laugh.

  “Some?” her aunt agreed with a smile. “I would like to see the next generation of Lintons before I turn up my toes.”

  “Oh, Aunt,” Constance said with a great deal of emotion, “you are far from being ready for the grave. There are many years yet before you must worry about such a thing.”

  Aunt Gwladys patted Constance’s hand where it lay on her arm. “As quickly as you two are moving toward marriage, I most certainly must worry about it. Now if one or the other of you would show some inclination to the marital state, I might rest easy, but as it is, I cannot.”

  Constance gave her aunt a sad smile. “I am sorry. If I could…”

  Her aunt patted her hand again. “You will find the right one. Who knows. You may have already met him and just do not yet realize it.” A shadow of something passed across her niece’s face, causing the light in Constance’s eyes to fade. She leaned closer to her niece’s ear. “Or perhaps you do realize it?”

  Constance shook her head and glanced at her brother.

  “I am quite certain your brother is incapable of killing anyone; however,” she whispered and then tapped her lip with her finger to indicate that Constance’s secret was safe with her.

  Chapter 8

  “Henry,” Mary slipped an arm through her brother’s as she came up beside him. “I do believe you have danced with half the wallflowers in the last week and a half. Surely, you could find better partners than that.”

  “Good evening, Mary.” Henry spared her a quick glance.

  “What? You are not going to defend your decline in taste of partners?” She laughed lightly.

  “No.” He had no desire to enter into any extended conversation with his sister about whom he did or did not choose as a dance partner.

  “You are becoming a great bore.”

  He kept his eyes forward, but he could well imagine the pout that accompanied such a tone. “Being respectable is not the same as becoming a bore.”

  She once again laughed. “Respectable is so dull.” She sighed. “I did not come over here to argue with you about your recent disturbing behaviour, nor did I come to scold you for the way you spoke to me the last time we met ─ although I should, you know.”

  “I know nothing of the sort.”

  She made that particular sound in her throat as if holding back a huff, the sound that very clearly let him know that she was not pleased with him.

  “What do you truly wish, Mary?”

  “You are missed by our friends. Can you not accept just one invitation to a soiree from me?”

  He knew the hurt in her voice was affected. He had heard her do it many times over when attempting to get what she desired. Still, it tugged at his heart.

  “You know I cannot. If I am seen in the same company as I was before the incident with Mrs. Rushworth, my chances of securing the kind of wife for which I wish will be greatly diminished.” He turned toward her and smiled. “You could join my company. I may be able to secure you an invitation to any soiree to which I am invited.”

  “I should think not! I do not wish to be thought of as dull.”

  “You could never be dull, my dear sister. You shine no matter the circumstances in which you find yourself.” He patted the hand that still held his arm. “Do you not wish for a happy marriage? You will not find it amongst your friends. There is not a one of them that is content.” His mouth tipped up in a roguish smile. “I can assure you of the correctness of that fact if you wish.”

  She feigned shock at his comments just as he knew she would. “I shall find an acceptable marriage and all that goes along with it.”

  “Houses, carriages, money, lovers? Really, Mary? You would wish to have such a life?”

  She shrugged. “It is the way of things. What you are chasing is an illusion. You will find a girl to please you for a time, but then another shall come along and you will realize that the same porridge every day is not satisfying. That is just how it is.”

  He shook his head. “No, I do not accept that.”

  “Accepted or not, it is what it is, Henry. Now, tell me, which of these lovely ladies has captured the once charming and adventurous Mr. Crawford? Is it she in the pink with the dark hair and generous curves? Or perhaps the tall blonde in the lavender?”

  He patted her hand again and then lifted it from his arm as he chuckled. “You shall know at the wedding breakfast. Until then, you must guess just as everyone else must.”

  His eyes caught sight of Constance and followed her for a distance as she circled the ballroom with her aunt. “I must go. I have someone waiting for me for the next set.” He bowed and left her.

  He had only one lady, Miss Alberts, left on his list. He must dance with her tonight and call on her tomorrow. Then, after a day of impatient waiting, he would once again be able to call on Constance and report to her that none of her recommendations had captured his heart. After which, he intended to see if he could determine whether he had any hope of ever winning her. If he did, he would go to her brother and suffer whatever punishment Linton might level at him for having fallen in love with Constance. A broken nose, a bloodied lip, a bullet in his shoulder, a year of confinement to his estate, it did not matter; he would bear any or all of it if Constance loved him.

  “Miss Alberts,” he said with a bow as he approached her. “I believe this is our dance.”

  He schooled his features to not show his surprise at the snort that accompanied her small giggle as she accepted his hand.

  ~*~*~

  “Henry refuses every attempt.”

  Constance casually looked to her right and then, with just as much nonchalance, turned to her left and the source of the comment. Miss Crawford stood next to some lady in blue. Constance attempted to recall her name. She was
certain she had either met her or at least heard her name in some conversation. Miss Crawford’s friend was familiar looking, but try as she might, Constance could not bring the lady’s name to mind.

  “You told him he was a bore?”

  “I did. He said he is not a bore but rather he is respectable.”

  Both ladies laughed at that.

  “Henry shall never truly be respectable. He may play the part for a while ─ even long enough to get one of those milquetoast maids to accept him.”

  How could his sister speak about him in such a fashion! Henry was capable of being respectable. It was not an act, but a desire of his heart. Constance had seen that desire in his eyes as he listened and attempted to do all the things she asked of him.

  “He has been on the verge of being lost to respectability before,” Miss Crawford’s companion said. “It was fortunate that he was not so stuffy then as he is now and did not cut us off.”

  “Yes, well, that did not work out as well as it should have.”

  Miss Crawford’s friend chuckled. “Who was to know that in all of England you found the one man of the cloth who was devoted to it so completely.”

  “I should rather like to forget Mr. Bertram and his wife,” Mary retorted.

  Constance saw Mr. Delaney coming to claim her for the next dance and prepared herself to accept him with what appeared to be eagerness. Her aunt knew that she hoped for another gentleman to claim her hand eventually, but her brother did not, and Constance preferred to keep it that way as long as she could.

  “Now, about your brother,” said Miss Crawford’s friend. “It would be such a blow to lose him forever from our group. He is such a pleasure to have at a party.”

  Constance’s eyes grew slightly wide at the tone of voice the woman used. An innocent she might be, but she was not naive and knew enough to recognize innuendo when she heard it.

  “A rendezvous in the garden would not ruin my night,” the lady in blue continued, “although it might ruin your brother’s chances to make the sort of match he seems determined to make. Do you think you could get him to walk with you?”

  “Miss Linton,” Mr. Delaney greeted her with a small bow.

  Constance curtseyed and took his hand, glancing back over her shoulder as he led her out onto the dance floor. Miss Crawford was still standing there talking to her friend. Constance would have to keep an eye on them and try to find a way to warn Henry. No one was going to take away his chance to find the happiness he sought if she could find a way to prevent it.

  “Are you looking for someone in particular?” Mr. Delaney did not seem particularly impressed by Constance’s scanning of the ballroom as they lined up and waited for the music to begin.

  “No, I am just taking it all in,” she lied. She had hoped to see Henry among the gentlemen of this set, but he was not here. He was somewhere else and in danger of falling prey to whatever scheme his sister and her friend had hatched. However, not wishing to offend her partner any further, Constance turned her attention back to the group of which they were a part.

  “The candles make everything fairly sparkle, do they not?” she asked Mr. Delaney, earning a smile from the gentleman.

  “And the decor,” Constance continued. “Such flower arrangements! I dare say it is the most beautifully decorated ball I have been to yet this season.”

  The gentleman across from her shrugged. “I do not find it any more exceptional than most,” he replied. “But then I am a gentleman and such things do not always catch our attention the way they do for a lady. Ladies are far better suited for noticing such things. It is part of their delicate nature, I suppose.”

  “I suppose,” Constance agreed. His slightly condescending tone grated. It appeared Mr. Delaney was not the sort of gentleman to think highly of ladies. He would definitely not do as a suitor.

  She allowed her eyes to wander down the line of dancers as she asked, “Do you like art?”

  The music began as her eyes fell on a person who might be of some use in protecting Henry ─ if she could just get him to think of something other than himself for a moment.

  Mr. Delaney spoke at length ─ broken as their conversation was by the steps of the dance ─ about art and what he thought constituted a great artist. It came as no surprise to Constance that the man preferred scenes of hunting and sport to those that featured softer objects such as flowers and pastoral scenes.

  Constance did her best to keep the conversation going without arguing too often with him over what truly made a piece of art captivating. She worked her way through the steps and turns of the dance. Finally, the pattern placed her where she wanted to be.

  “Mr. Edwards,” she said quickly as they joined hands, “I have need of your assistance.”

  His brows rose. “How so?” he asked before they parted.

  A few steps later, she was once again near enough to speak to him. “I am going to the retiring room after this dance.”

  They were parted for a moment. There was but one more chance to speak to him before the figure would return her to Mr. Delaney.

  “There is an alcove just past it. Meet me there.”

  A roguish grin curled his lips.

  She shook her head and scowled lightly at him as he moved away.

  He shrugged but gave a nod of his head.

  For the remainder of the dance, she split her attention between her partner and trying to find either Henry or his sister in the people standing about but could not. It was with a great sigh of relief that she made her final curtsey and was returned to her aunt’s side.

  “Mr. Delaney cuts a fine figure,” her aunt commented as the man departed from them.

  “His figure may be fine, Aunt, but his intellect is wanting.”

  Aunt Gwladys chuckled softly at the comment. “You are a very strange sort of girl, my dear. Most would only wish for a handsome husband with a handsome bank account.”

  “Well, I wish for both of those as well as a handsome mind,” Constance replied with a smile. “Now, I really must go freshen myself,” she whispered behind her fan.

  “Can it not wait. Mr. Emerson was asking after you. He might return.”

  “No, it cannot wait. I will not be long.” She held her breath, hoping that her aunt would allow her to go alone. Providence must have heard her plea, for just as her aunt looked about to say she would accompany her, Mrs. Barrett, wearing a very pleased smile approached, and Aunt Gwladys suggested that Evelyn accompany Constance.

  Constance linked arms with her dear friend and pulled her close as they walked. “I am going to meet someone after we have visited the retiring room,” she whispered.

  Evelyn’s eyes grew wide. “A gentleman?”

  Constance nodded. “Mr. Edwards.”

  Evelyn gasped.

  “I need his help.” Constance leaned closer and whispered to her friend all she had heard pass between Miss Crawford and the lady in blue.

  “How dreadful,” Evelyn said as they entered the retiring room. “I will go with you to meet with Mr. Edwards.”

  Constance gave her friend’s hand a grateful squeeze before they parted to attend to their needs.

  ~*~*~

  Constance held on to Evelyn’s arm tightly as the two of them slipped behind the curtain that hung in front of the alcove. She was certain her heart had never beaten so quickly or as loudly as it was at this moment. To be found in an alcove with a gentleman such as Mr. Edwards would do neither her nor Evelyn any good. Her brother had cautioned her on many occasions that Mr. Edwards was only to be spoken to in the light of day and in a public place. Otherwise, she was to be standing next to her brother while conversing with the man. Apparently, the rumors that circulated about him among the young ladies were not as fanciful as she had at first assumed. The man was a rake of the first order.

  “I was beginning to think you were not coming,” Edwards said with a smile.

  “I told you I was going to the retiring room ─ which I did.” She was surprised at ho
w her voice did not betray the unease she felt. “Now, we only have five minutes.” She huffed as she saw his eyes taking in the length of her friend. “Mr. Edwards, please, if I could have your attention.”

  He turned his eyes back to her. “Are you not going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked.

  Constance’s eyes narrowed and one brow rose as her lips pursed in displeasure. “No,” she replied, “I am not. If you wish to be introduced to my friend, you must do so through a proper channel.” She lowered her voice just a bit. “My brother has told me the sort of man you are, sir. I will not subject my friend to knowing you because of my actions.”

  Edwards chuckled. “Linton warned you about me, did he?”

  “Many times,” Constance replied.

  “Then why have you not stayed away? I was under the impression that you were a very proper chit.”

  Constance smiled. “I am. However, I am also an intelligent chit.”

  His brows rose at her use of the word chit.

  “And,” she continued, “you have just the reputation and skills I require.”

  Chapter 9

  “You will not hate me for having told him your name, will you?” Constance asked Evelyn for the third time since they had left the alcove.

  “It is not as if he left you a choice,” Evelyn replied. “Besides, he already knew my name. He spoke to us at the musicale, remember?”

  Constance’s brows furrowed. She clearly remembered him talking to them about Mr. Marsh. “Then why was he insistent on my introducing you?” Some gentlemen were so vexingly difficult to understand.

  Evelyn shrugged. “Most likely because he could. You refused to do so when we first entered the alcove, and then he saw an opportunity to force you to do what you did not want to do. Has your brother not ever behaved in such a fashion? Mine has. He will often try to make me do things I have refused to do ─ nothing heinous or truly disgusting, but little things. Once he wished for me to give him my dessert. I refused because it was almond cake, and you know how I love almond cake. So does he.” She gave Constance a pointed look. “However, he also knew that I wished for a bit more pin money to buy a hat. I had something he wanted, and he had something I wanted.”