“This is not an appropriate topic of conversation,” Henrietta reprimanded. Wanton companions to esteemed elderly women were not wanted. Or were they? Henrietta mentally begged the pardon of this Miss Cowdrey for assuming her wanton. It’s just that ... she had “spirit.” Apparently more than Henrietta.
“Exactly. Which is why I wish to have it,” Sophronia said resolutely.
But Henrietta ... just ... couldn’t. She touched her lips, thinking of the kiss and wanting the memory to be hers alone.
“Shall I read to you?” she offered.
“No. I want to hear about kissing rogues,” Sophronia said, pouting.
Henrietta picked up a book and began to read.
“Oh look! Lady Stewart-Wortly’s Guide to Good Behavior. Why, this sounds like a lovely book for me to read to you this afternoon.”
“Oh, not that one,” Sophronia said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Duller stuff I can’t imagine.”
“Chapter One: Minding One’s Own Business,” Henrietta read firmly.
“You’re making this up!” Sophronia shouted. Henrietta just smiled. She wanted spirit, did she?
“In matters of a personal nature, one must endeavor to exercise restraint and delicacy. One must at all times be respectful of others’ personal matters.”
Sophronia muttered something incompressible. It was probably a string of extremely unladylike words.
Henrietta kept reading: “Gossip is the Devil’s own language. Do endeavor not to be a mouthpiece of Satan.”
“Oh dear Lord, cease! I beg of you! I have taken your point, Henrietta. Thus it is only fair that you listen to mine. There must be something in that blasted book about respecting your elders.”
“Indeed. It is in Chapter Two. Are you now admitting to being old?”
Sophronia softened and smiled kindly. When she spoke, her voice was soothing and almost sad.
“You have moments of cheekiness, Henrietta. But they are too far and few between. On the whole, you are far too well behaved. Always have been.”
Henrietta froze. Hadn’t Jack said something to that effect?
“I suppose it is because you are afraid to lose your position here,” Sophronia mused. “After all, you have nowhere else to go.”
Henrietta sat very still. It was hard to think beyond the pounding of her heart and the gentle whoosh of air in, air out. Sophronia knew. Lightly, on a summer day, she put into words Henrietta’s greatest fear.
And then, lightly, on a summer day, she laid it to rest.
“Really, you oughtn’t be afraid of that. Honestly, who else would put up with me? We both know there isn’t anyone else up to the task.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Henrietta croaked. What of this Miss Cowdrey?
“My point, Henrietta, is that you have security simply because no one else will take it. And when I’m gone—because I won’t live forever, much to my dismay—I have ensured that you will be taken care of.”
Henrietta remained very still, save for one thick salty tear that slid down her cheek. She would be taken care of. A weight lifted from her shoulders. It meant she was free to search for the ring—and that her livelihood perhaps wasn’t at stake if it weren’t found. It meant she was free to kiss Jack again. She could live, just a little more than she’d been doing.
“Thank you, Sophronia.” Henrietta whispered the words. “I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”
“But only on the condition that you do your job, which is to entertain me. And I’d be far more entertained by stories of flirtation and courtship with that rogue Jack that by Lady Stewart-Bore-Me’s book on proper behavior.”
Henrietta cracked a smile, even as there were still tears in her eyes.
“Now be off with you,” Sophronia said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “If you haven’t kissed him already, do so by nightfall. The deuced wedding is just days away, and rogues have very little reason to visit Dorset.”
Chapter Seven
Jack cracked the whip, urging his horses to run faster. Inconvenient as it was to be followed, it did give him a chance to see just what glorious speeds Hippolyta was capable of.
Five days before the wedding
Instead of an assignation with that rogue Jack, Henrietta found herself among the other wedding guests seeking shade under awnings while watching games of bowls. She wished to be off with Jack kissing searching for the ring. But instead, she was prevented from even fetching cakes for Lady Sophronia by the inane conversation of Miss Jane Howell.
While Miss Howell went on and on, Henrietta spied Sophronia in conversation with the duke and his mother and—
Oh, dear! It seemed Lady Sophronia had brought her weaponry despite Henrietta’s protests that they would have no need to defend their virtue at a game of bowls.
Henrietta excused herself. If she wasn’t going to be kissing searching for the ring with Jack, then she at least wanted to find and make the acquaintance of this Miss Cowdrey who possessed much more spirit. At the very least, she should keep Lady Sophronia from terrifying the other guests.
Having failed on all counts—finding the ring, finding Jack, finding Miss Cowdrey, and keeping Sophronia out of trouble—Henrietta determined to seize the first opportunity to be alone with Jack. The moment required her to be bold.
It happened in the drawing room later that evening, after dinner, when a cluster of young ladies took turning playing the pianoforte and singing songs for the guests. At the conclusion of one song, she excused herself and made her way through the seats to the terrace. On the way, Henrietta found Jack, who was conversing with Wessex.
Notice me. Notice me. Notice me.
Jack caught her eye. His lips upturned into a smile. Her heart fluttered. Then, remembering her plan, she gave me him a Look that was meant to convey I need to speak with you urgently on the terrace. And then when we’re done speaking I’d like to not speak at all.
A moment later, Jack and Henrietta were alone on the terrace.
“I don’t suppose you found the ring,” she said.
“No,” he said softly. Strangely, she bit back the words, I’m glad. She truly wanted to find the ring, save the wedding, and keep her place with Lady Sophronia. But she also wanted more moments like these with Jack. Would they end when they found the ring? Or when the wedding concluded and he returned to London? She bit her lip, not wanting to plague him with such questions and ruin the moment.
Not that she had the ability to speak when he was gazing at her so intently.
“What is it?” she asked.
“You’re wearing your hair differently,” he said. He’d noticed! Instead of her usual practical and spinsterish style, she’d had one of the maids do one of those elaborate arrangements with ribbons and curls that the other ladies wore. It required an hour’s time, hot irons, and twenty minutes debating the exact shade of ribbon to use with Sophronia. But it had been worth it, if Jack noticed.
Jack reached out and gave one of the curls a gentle tug.
“You rogue!” she protested faintly.
“Just like old times, Hen,” he said, grinning.
“If it were just like old times I would bash you on the head with a china breakfast plate,” she replied.
“We can forgo that part of it,” he said. And then in a low, husky voice he asked, “So tell me, Hen, why did you beckon me out onto the terrace?”
“I think we should send a footman to search for the ring,” she said, the words coming out in a rush because the sooner they had this Very Important Conversation about the ring, the sooner they could proceed to the kissing.
“Excellent idea,” he murmured, leaning in close enough to brush his lips against hers. “Is that all?”
“We need someone to search the road,” she murmured.
“Of course,” he whispered. Their lips met slightly, briefly.
“All the way from here to London,” she added softly.
Jack pulled back and looked at her curiously. Yes, it was a rid
iculous errand, but what choice did they have?
“Jack, we only have four more days before the wedding. Neither of us can go missing for that long. Sophronia is already commenting about my absences.”
“I’ll speak to one of the footmen,” Jack said.
“Thank you. Perhaps he could take Hippolyta,” she suggested, to which Jack burst out laughing. “Or not,” she added.
“We’ll find it the ring in time for the wedding, Hen,” Jack murmured as he drew her close. “In the meantime...”
When Jack’s lips brushed against hers, everything else ceased to matter. The loss of the ring, her uncertain future ... she was far too distracted by the delicious warmth, and the wicked way he deepened the kiss. She clenched her fists in the fabric of his shirt as her knees felt unsteady. Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him. She’d never felt so wanted, so desired, and so utterly, wonderfully reckless. Just when she was about to discover how reckless Jack inspired her to be, the sound of voices intruded. Reluctantly, Henrietta turned to see who was ruining this perfect moment for her.
“Oh goodness, it’s Jane Howell,” she whispered. “We must go. Immediately.”
Chapter Eight
Jack lost him—whoever that nefarious cretin was—a mile or so later. Honestly, what kind of fool tried to race Hippolyta?
The ball
Three days before the wedding
Finally, finally, finally Henrietta managed to steal Jack for a moment alone. It had taken her days to manage it. Yesterday there had been a cricket game on the lawn that had kept him occupied for hours. (And she had, admittedly, been diverted for a spell, watching him play). She’d hoped to speak to him before dinner last night, but he’d spent the time flirting with a throng of young ladies, including Miss Rosanne Lacy, who managed to secure his escort into the dining room. Whilst sulking on the far side of the drawing room, Henrietta noticed she wasn’t the only one vexed by this coupling. It seemed Lord Bruton and Mr. Newnham were, too.
At the ball, she finally managed to find Jack and pull him aside. They lingered in the foyer outside of the double doors leading into the ballroom where all the guests were celebrating.
For a moment, she forgot what she had to ask him, for she was distracted by how handsome he looked in his evening attire. The stark black and white of his clothes set off his sun-kissed skin. When he smiled at her, she quite forgot how to breathe.
“Have you heard from the footman?” she asked, taking care to keep her voice quiet.
“You look beautiful tonight, Hen,” he said softly, giving a gentle tug to one of the curls in her hair. The affectionate gesture brought a smile to her lips and an extra beat to her heart.
“Thank you,” she said softly, momentarily swept up in the moment. But then she remembered and her expression became serious. “Jack, the footman. Have you any news from him?”
“None yet,” Jack said, smiling and gazing into her eyes. “But I’m sure the ring will turn up.”
“I do hope so,” Henrietta whispered.
So focused was she on the handsome man before her that neither she nor Jack noticed the Duchess of Wessex until it was too late.
“I beg your pardon,” the duchess said with a tight-lipped smile.
While Henrietta was struck momentarily dumb from the shock and terror of the duchess of Wessex arriving unexpectedly and quite likely overhearing the bad news about the ring, Jack just smiled that smile of his.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “I was just saying to Henrietta that you have outdone yourself with this house party.”
“Thank you, Jack,” she said, softening. “I’m glad to find you both together for once. I wanted to inquire about the wedding ring.”
Henrietta forced a smile. Jack looked confused.
“Did Henrietta not give it to you?” he asked, discretely elbowing her in the side. Then he gave her a Look.
“Jack, I thought you were going to!” Henrietta replied.
“A thousand apologies, Your Grace,” Jack said smoothly. Again, he flashed that smile. “We shall deliver it on the morrow. For now, it seems Sophronia is calling to Henrietta. We mustn’t leave her unattended. Who knows what havoc she might bring?” Then lowering his voice to a confidential tone, he said, “I hear she is harboring an American in her chambers.”
The duchess just sighed; Jack was impossible. She gave Henrietta a look suggesting she ought to know better. But as far as Henrietta was concerned, there was no one better than Jack, flaws and all.
“Enjoy the ball,” she said. “And please, bring the ring to me first thing in the morning.”
After the duchess turned and walked away, Jack and Henrietta held serious expressions for as long as they were able—admittedly, it was not very long—before bursting into laughter. Even though nothing about this situation was funny. At all.
They’d but three days to find the ring—or else. Seeming to sense her distress, Jack linked his arm in hers.
“That was quite nearly a disaster,” Henrietta said. “She must know we do not have it.”
“We do have it,” he said confidently. “We just don’t know where we have it.”
It took a moment for Henrietta to puzzle over that. Then she just gave up.
“I have an idea,” he said with a wicked gleam in his eye. She tilted her head curiously. “Let’s waltz.”
“I like this idea,” Henrietta said with a smile. She didn’t say that her heartbeat raced faster at just the thought.
“And then let’s waltz out onto the terrace and down to the stables,” Jack added as they strolled into the ballroom arm-in-arm.
“Even better.”
“We shall search Hippolyta while everyone is enjoying the ball,” he said, pulling her into his arms for the waltz.
“I’d love that.” And then Henrietta couldn’t say much else, between trying to recall the steps and simply marveling at the loveliness of this moment. She didn’t waltz very often and never had done so with such a handsome man. Especially one she might be falling in love with.
Even though it was Jack.
He spun her around then pulled her even closer, pressing his palm against her lower back and clasping her hand just a bit tighter, as if he couldn’t get close enough to her. Truth be told, she felt the same. She wanted more of him.
She was sorry they hadn’t found the ring.
But she wasn’t very distressed that it had gone missing. If that made sense.
Either way, she knew there would not be much searching once they arrived at the stables. Closer and closer they danced their way across the ballroom before Jack spun her dramatically through the French doors leading onto the terrace.
Henrietta took one last whirl, marveling in the stars and the solitude and Jack’s smile. Finally, they had a moment alone.
But it was not to be, for the duke had found them.
“Willoughby. Miss Black. I trust you are enjoying yourselves this evening.”
“Indeed we are. Are you ready for your big day, Wessex?”
The duke quirked one brow. “I don’t know, Jack. Am I?”
“Only you can answer that,” Jack replied. “For what it’s worth, Miss Grey is a lovely women. She’ll be the perfect duchess.”
“Yes,” Wessex said, distracted. Henrietta followed his gaze ... to ... not Miss Grey. Turning back to them he said,” Mother wanted me to inquire with you about the ring.”
“We already spoke with her about it,” Henrietta said. “Fear not, Your Grace, we have everything under control.”
“Excellent. If you’ll excuse me.” The duke bid them a good evening and went off to mingle with his other guests, many of whom unfortunately decided to enjoy a spot of fresh air. The terrace no longer offered the solitude they sought.
Jack cursed inwardly as it seemed that every guest at the party decided to come gaze at the stars and breathe fresh air at that moment. Didn’t they know they were quite possibly ruining the wedding? At the very least, th
ey were ruining his moment. It was imperative that he and Hen find the ring. But it was even more essential that he kiss her passionately and, preferably, immediately.
“We’ll never make it down the stables without being seen,” she said. Was it wrong that he was thrilled at how forlorn she sounded? It meant that she was possibly of the same mind as he.
“Let’s wait a moment,” he said, entwining their fingers and hiding the affectionate gesture behind the folds of her skirts.
“We cannot,” Henrietta said, now sounding very put out. “Lady Grey is coming this way. She has been pestering me about the ring. And Kingstag. And everything her daughter will soon become mistress of.”
“Then we’d better be off,” Jack said gallantly. Tugging Hen along, he guided them though the guests on the terrace, through the ballroom, and into the refreshments room, where he spied an opportunity. There was a door to a small chamber that was too small and intimate to be opened up during a ball. However, it had been the perfect place to hide as children. He suspected it would be the perfect spot to steal a moment alone with Hen.
Jack, thinking wicked thoughts, opened the door. There was a burst of candlelight and—
He quickly shut the door. He wasn’t the only one seeking a moment alone with a woman.
“What was that?” Henrietta asked, peering around him.
“Who was that is more like it,” he murmured, linking his arm with Hen’s and leading her away.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Where else should we search?” he replied, lifting his brow questioningly. He had an idea, but it was definitely ungentlemanly of him to suggest it. But if it were her idea ... well, a gentleman ought to oblige a lady.
“We’ve done everything, I think,” Henrietta said, furrowing her brow.
“Any place we should search for a second time?” he asked. Ridiculously, his heart was thudding hard. Fortunately no one would hear it, especially not over the din of the ballroom. It was just ... anticipation. Of Henrietta. Whom he was definitely falling for.
“Well if not the stables ... your bedroom?” She said this softly, and an adorable blush suffused her cheeks.
At the Duke's Wedding (A romance anthology) Page 5