by Bree Wolf
Henrietta sighed. Despite her misgivings, she hoped with every fibre of her body that Anna would never have to find out, that she was justified in thinking her husband a good man. With all her heart, Henrietta wished that she had been wrong to caution Anna the way she had, never the less, she knew she could not have acted any other way. What kind of a friend would she have been if she had allowed Anna to continue down a treacherous path without doing her best to warn her, to protect her?
Henrietta knew she had done all that she could. However, her sense of duty to her friend had cost her that very friendship.
“You miss her, do you not?” her aunt asked, squeezing her hands. “Do not deny it for I can see it in your eyes.”
Henrietta sighed, once more fighting tears.
“You used to be so close,” Aunt Clara continued, her gentle eyes searching Henrietta’s face. “Whatever it was that you two quarrelled about, was it really worth losing each other over?”
Shaking her head, Henrietta sighed. “I had to,” she whispered. “I couldn’t just stand by and…” She met her aunt’s gaze. “It’s who I am. I had to protect her. I had to at least try.”
Once more, Aunt Clara squeezed her hands, her soft brown eyes searching Henrietta’s. “Not every man is like your father,” she whispered, and Henrietta felt like she had been slapped in the face. “Most men are truly honourable. They make mistakes, yes, but don’t we all?” Gently, she cupped a hand to Henrietta’s face. “I know you’ve seen things no child should see. But you’re not a child anymore. You are a grown woman, and you’ve robbed yourself of a future by allowing your past to rule your life.”
Stepping back, Henrietta brushed off her aunt’s hands. “What future? On the contrary, I have done everything I could to assure that my future does not turn out like my mother’s.”
Sighing, her aunt nodded. “Yes, you do not have a husband who beats you when he's drunk. But neither do you have a husband who watches over you when you are sick, who comforts you when you are sad, who smiles with you.”
Henrietta snorted, “Are you trying to say that Uncle Randolph does these things for you?”
“No,” her aunt sighed, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “He does not. We cannot all be fortunate enough to marry a man who truly loves us. But your uncle keeps me safe. He provides for me and my son. He never beats me.” Her eyes looked into Henrietta’s imploringly. “He is kind and caring, and for me, that is enough.”
“I am happy for you, Aunt Clara, but I am not you.”
“Do you never dream of a husband?” her aunt asked, curiosity marking her face. “Of love even? I did when I was young.” A soft smile came to her face. “Do not all young women imagine the man they would one day marry?”
Henrietta shook her head, her lips pressed in a tight line. “I never did. Not once. All I ever thought about was how to protect myself from the man who would one day turn against me should I agree to marry him!”
Her aunt sighed, “As long as you only see the bad, you will never be happy.”
“But I will be safe,” Henrietta insisted, despite knowing her aunt meant well. However, the life Aunt Clara lived, always subservient to her husband, was none that Henrietta longed for.
Her aunt nodded, and a hint of resignation rested in her sad eyes. “That is good,” she whispered before turning to the door, “but maybe you should go and see her.” For a moment, she met Henrietta’s eyes. “Do not waste your time clinging to grievances. What good is a life spent alone?”
After the door closed behind her aunt, Henrietta sank into the armchair under the bay windows, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
***
A fortnight passed, and Henrietta’s heart still ached with the losses she had suffered and been reminded of so unexpectedly. Although she had to admit to herself that she wanted to see Anna, Henrietta could not bring herself to visit her. Deep down, she knew it to be a sign of surrender, proving her wrong in her fears. And although Henrietta hoped for it to be true, she did not believe it, and she could not act against her own convictions.
Swallowing, Henrietta put Anna out of her mind and instead focused her energy on Tristan. Months had passed since she had last seen him, and even then, they had parted in disagreement.
Tristan was forever torn between complying with his uncle’s wishes and being his own man. Often, he tried so hard to set himself apart from his uncle’s expectations that he became reckless, and Henrietta constantly feared for his safety. When she had challenged his motivations, he had been outraged and stormed out.
A part of her had hoped that eventually he would come to see her, but he hadn’t, and Henrietta began to wonder if he ever would. After all, he was her brother, and they shared the same stubbornness that so often ruled her own decisions.
However, he was her brother, and she could not allow such a minor disagreement to tear them apart for good. After all, he was all she had left.
Her uncle was a distant man, always disapproving of everything she did. Neither Tristan nor Henrietta had ever been able to develop an affectionate relationship with him. Her aunt was different; however, she often echoed her husband’s opinion, which only strengthened Henrietta’s resolve to keep her distance. And her cousin Matthew was merely a younger image of her uncle.
Tristan, her mind thought, and her heart ached. Would he want to see her if she went to London? Or would he send her away?
Her aunt’s voice echoed in her thoughts. Your uncle keeps me safe. He provides for me and my son.
Who would provide for her once her aunt and uncle passed on? As a woman, Henrietta’s options to provide for herself were severely limited, and at her age and with her disposition, Henrietta doubted that an offer of marriage would ever be made to her, not that she would accept it should one be made.
Her mind made up, Henrietta hurried down the stairs. She needed to see Tristan, whether he was still angry with her or not. After all, he was her baby brother, the only one she had ever truly loved without caution and restrictions.
“Henrietta, wait!” her aunt called in a hushed voice as she hastened after her down the corridor toward her uncle’s study.
Stopping, Henrietta turned around. “What is it? I need to speak with Uncle. I’ve made up my mind; I need to see Tristan.”
Her aunt nodded, but still took her hand and led her past the study and into the front parlour. “That needs to wait. Your uncle has a visitor.”
“A visitor?” Henrietta frowned, aware that her uncle rarely conducted business on the family’s estate. “Who is it?”
Her aunt shrugged. “He did not look familiar, and he had a strange accent. He must be a foreigner.”
At her aunt’s words, Henrietta’s blood froze in her veins as the man’s description echoed in her soul. Catching her breath, she swallowed, then turned to her aunt. “Was he tall, with broad shoulders, black hair and a beard covering his face?”
Aunt Clara’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”
For a moment, Henrietta thought she would faint. What was he doing in her uncle’s study? Was it a coincidence? Or had he discovered her true identity after all and was at this very moment informing her uncle of her unladylike behaviour? But why would he? What did he have to gain from betraying her secret?
Sinking onto the settee, Henrietta waited for the verdict.
Chapter Four − An Antagonistic Woman
“Then we are in agreement?” Connor asked, eyeing Mr. Turner’s delighted face with a hint of apprehension. Something about the man struck him as odd.
“We are indeed,” Mr. Turner said as he rose from his chair and offered Connor his hand. “I am quite pleased with our deal.”
Deal? Connor wondered, thinking it quite an odd way to describe the agreement they had reached, and yet, Connor himself felt a hint of guilt for allowing her uncle to dictate the terms. It was quite dishonourable. However, he could not ask her. Without a doubt, he knew that she would refuse him, and he could not risk that.
Fi
rst rule of warfare: Know thy enemy…or, in this case, rather thy enemy thou regret thou have.
Leaving the study, the two men walked down the corridor toward the front hall. All the while, Mr. Turner marvelled at his good fortune, assuring Connor that they would be on their way within a fortnight.
Connor nodded, his eyes sweeping the rooms they passed as he wondered where she was. What would she look like with her hair down and wearing a gown instead of breeches?
As they stopped in the front hall, Mr. Turner bid him farewell, once again assuring him that all would go according to plan.
Frowning, Connor nodded. “I appreciate that, Mr. Turner. Please give my regards to the ladies of the house.”
“I certainly shall,” Mr. Turner assured him.
After bidding each other goodbye, Connor walked down the front steps and mounted his horse, a stab of regret in his chest that he had not even caught a glimpse of her. However, when he pulled up the reigns, a curtain was pulled back from one of the windows in the parlour and before he knew what was happening, clear, blue eyes looked into his.
Angry, blue eyes, to be exact.
Connor could not hide a smile as he saw the confusion on her face as she searched his, clearly worrying about why he had come and possibly how he had found her.
A part of him wanted to go to her and lay everything open; however, he knew she would be furious and not yield easily. Better leave that to her uncle. He would speak to her later and explain himself…when they were alone.
As she stood by the window, glaring down at him, Connor’s eyes swept over her, comparing what he saw to the memory he treasured. While the deep azure gown accented her eyes, it also made her look pale; however, part of that could possibly be attributed to the shock at seeing him invading her home. Although he had often pictured her in his thoughts with her hair flowing over her shoulders, Connor thought he liked her better with her hair pinned up, revealing her graceful neck.
Holding her gaze, he marvelled at the twists and turns of fate. Had his father not died when he had, had Connor not been delayed to travel to England in order to claim his title, had he not felt the urge for a hard ride after spending days locked in a carriage, he would never even have met her!
And what a tragedy that would have been! A tragedy he wouldn’t even have been aware of!
Never before had he laid eyes on a woman who managed to stir his soul with a single curl to her lips. A woman who challenged him. A woman he could see riding by his side.
Chuckling, Connor nodded his head to her before he reluctantly kicked his gelding and they sped off down the drive.
Still, despite her unusual allure, Connor couldn’t help but wonder how he had ever fallen for that twig of a girl!
***
A shiver ran down Henrietta’s back that echoed into every fibre of her being as that man’s soul-searching eyes swept over her, touching places that were quite improper for him to notice.
He was a stranger, a foreigner even, and yet, he acted as though they were intimately acquainted. Very intimately.
When his black beast sped down the drive, Henrietta’s eyes stayed with them until they disappeared from view, and she wondered if she would ever see him again.
“Uncle Randolph!” she called, forcing herself to abandon her post by the window. After all, there was nothing to see anymore. “Who was that man? What did he want?”
Walking out into the hall, Henrietta stopped as her uncle came toward her, a satisfied smile on his face, a smile that had taught her to be cautious. Whenever her uncle looked immensely pleased, someone usually had to suffer for it.
Henrietta could only hope it wouldn’t be her.
As though patting himself on the back for an achieved victory, her uncle straightened then glanced from her to his wife before raising his chin and saying, “That was the new Marquis of Rodridge.”
Henrietta swallowed. “What did he want?” Judging from her uncle’s face, she doubted that the marquis had betrayed her secret. Surely, her uncle’s reaction would have been far from pleased. However, she had to know what was going on and why he had sought her out. After all, this could not be a coincidence that the same man who had come upon her in the woods would have business with her uncle.
Chuckling, her uncle met her eyes, and a cold shiver rolled down Henrietta’s back. “In fact, he came here to ask for your hand in marriage.”
That simple statement knocked the air from Henrietta’s lungs, and for a moment, she thought her knees would betray her.
“What?” her aunt whispered, her eyes widened in stunned surprise. “He did?” Her gaze turned to Henrietta. “How do you know him?”
“I…” Closing her eyes, Henrietta tried to focus. He had asked for her hand? Why on earth would he want to marry her? She looked at her uncle’s delighted face, and a dark sense of foreboding settled in her stomach. The marquis had asked for her hand, but surely, her uncle wouldn’t…
Yes, he would.
As resignation flooded her being, Henrietta asked, “What was your answer?”
Her uncle scoffed. “What was my answer?” he echoed as though her question answered itself. “Naturally, I agreed. Anyone in their right mind would have.” He took a step forward, and his cold eyes fixed her with a commanding stare. “These past twenty-odd years, you have been a burden.”
“Randolph!” his wife objected, but he ignored her.
“Always arguing. Always disrespectful. Always antagonistic.” He shook his head, his mouth an angry snarl. “But no more. Every endeavour I have undertaken to find you a suitable husband, any husband really, you have thwarted with your improper conduct, but not now.”
Henrietta swallowed. Never before had she felt so alone in the world, abandoned by everyone who had ever meant anything to her.
Pointing out the window, her uncle continued, “He is bent on having you for his wife. I don’t know why, and to be frank, I do not care. But I doubt there is anything you can do that would change his mind.” He chuckled, triumph reddening his cheeks. “Finally, it seems that you have met your match, dear Niece.” Holding her gaze for a moment longer, her uncle turned on his heels and started down the hall.
Never had Henrietta thought it would come to this; however, she had always wondered if her uncle would force her to marry against her wishes should an opportunity arise. Now, she had her answer. “I will not marry him,” Henrietta said to his receding back.
At the sound of her voice, he stopped, turned and came toward her in measured strides, anger plainly visible on his face. “Yes, you will,” he snarled.
“Randolph, listen,” Aunt Clara interjected, placing a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should−”
“Leave us!” her uncle commanded, his eyes never leaving Henrietta’s. “Now!”
Swallowing, her aunt glanced at her, an apologetic look in her eyes, before she bowed her head and walked away.
The second her aunt had left, her uncle’s hand shot forward and his fingers curled around Henrietta’s arm, pulling her closer. “Never will you speak to me this disrespectfully again! Do you hear me?” His face turned red with anger, and his breath came in rapid heaves. “Your brother left because of your impossible behaviour. Do you truly believe what you do does not affect your family as well? How is he to make a good match if you stand in his way?”
Tears came to Henrietta’s eyes at her uncle’s hurtful words. A part of her cautioned that her uncle was lying, that he was merely involving Tristan because he knew that her brother was her Achilles’ heel. However, in that moment, Henrietta had no fight left in her. After everything she had lost, her strength finally failed her.
“You will marry him!” her uncle snarled into her face. “For once in your life, you will do as you’re told. However, should you refuse, I swear I will send you from this house. You will no longer be family and forced to make your own way.” He scoffed. “Although you’re still unmarried, I suppose at your age, you are aware of the only way a woman can earn her own keep.�
� He chuckled. “If you consider that preferable to marrying the marquis, then make your choice.”
Releasing her arm, her uncle stepped back. “We will leave in a fortnight.” Then he turned on his heel and left.
Listening to the echo of his footsteps, Henrietta stood in the large front hall, hoping that any moment now her maid would wake her from this nightmare.
However, she did not.
It was real.
By God, this was truly happening!
Chapter Five − A Dutiful Wife
As though caught in a fog, Henrietta wandered the halls of her family’s estate, unseeing, blind to everything around her. Reality had finally sunk to the core of her being, and yet, she could not believe it to be real. Moving through the day as though guided by an unseen hand, Henrietta found herself in her bedchamber as her aunt gave careful instructions to her maid on how to pack her niece’s belongings.
“Your personal possessions can be added to the top of the trunk that holds your books,” Aunt Clara told her before turning back to the maid.
Glancing around her bedchamber, the very room she had spent her life in since her parents’ death, Henrietta felt anger begin to boil in her veins. How dare her uncle make such a decision for her?
“I know what you’re thinking,” her aunt said, jolting Henrietta from her inner turmoil. “However, I advise you to accept your uncle’s decision. I assure you that he is acting in your best interest and would never have agreed to the marquis’ proposal had he not believed it to be the right course for you.”
Shaking her head in disbelief, Henrietta snorted. “Aunt Clara, you are a fool if you believe that!”
At her harsh words, her aunt’s mouth fell open in shock. However, before she could regain her composure, a knock sounded on the door and Hampton Hall’s butler entered.
