Robert challenged her. He was stubborn, mulish and inclined to favour getting his own way. But their arguments brightened her day. Henri took a steadying breath. This was not some finer feeling, but passion, and passion always faded. She had watched it happen more times than she liked to count. She had to start thinking with her head, and leave her heart out of it. And right now, she needed to know where Sebastian was and get rid of this vague sense of unease.
‘Aunt, you are hiding something. Did you give Sebastian money?’ Henri leant forwards and caught her aunt’s cold hand. ‘Should we send Reynolds out searching for him? Do you think his visiting included a stop at the King’s Head?’
‘Sebastian is securing his future, but had no wish to worry you.’ Her aunt squeezed Henri’s hand before letting go. ‘He is concerned that you remained unwell. He thinks your nerves were affected in the dog attack. You’ll be proud of him. He is taking responsibility for his life.’
A distinct cold shiver crept down Henri’s spine. Sebastian taking charge of his life could quite possibly end in disaster; what was more worrying, he had enticed his mother to lie to her. She swallowed hard. Sebastian would not, he could not bring her into his scheme this time. She was finished with rescuing him.
‘Is this why you told me he was visiting the neighbours? I am no child to be kept in the dark with a pretty fable. Why doesn’t that bring me comfort?’
‘He wanted it to be a lovely surprise for you!’
‘What have you lied to me about, Aunt?’
‘Lying is far too strong a word. I prefer—giving only part of the truth. There was little point in making you anxious. I agreed with Sebastian on that point. He had to take the risk and not always wonder. If you were well, you’d have agreed. You have always helped out with such schemes. Dear Sebastian has always been grateful…even if he hasn’t always said so in so many words.’
Henri crossed her arms. It was bad enough having Sebastian being difficult, but Aunt Frances was concealing things from her as well. Her nerves being damaged! Sebastian told some rather large lies. It was more likely the fact she refused to abandon her friendship with Robert Montemorcy and had given him no help in his attempted conquest of Sophie. Sebastian wouldn’t have drawn her into an intrigue without her knowledge. She refused to be ensnared.
‘You are treating me like a child of six, rather than a widow of twenty-six.’ Henri bit out each word. ‘I’ve never suffered from nerves, not even when Edmund died. And whatever mess Sebastian makes, I will be the one who has to clean it up, just as I always do.’
‘But you’re so good at it. And you’re worrying over nothing. Sebastian will sort it out. He promised.’
‘Nerves are for women with far too much time on their hands. To even imply that is grossly insulting.’
‘You do him a great disservice.’ Her aunt reached for her book and opened it. ‘He wants to clear all the debts and start his future free and clear. I thought he ought to be given the chance. He is my only child.’
‘His future? He has gone back to London? Or has he gone to the Continent?’ Henri’s heart lifted. She was not going to have to face Sebastian and his accusations of betrayal if he learnt about Robert. With any luck, he never would.
‘He took my carriage this morning and promised to return in three days’ time with his fortune made. He even promised to buy back Chestercamp. He was always such a sweet boy. I dare say we can get on with the governess cart or a sedan chair.’
Henri laughed. Her heart suddenly felt light. It made it easier somehow that Sebastian was gone. She had worried that he might ask awkward questions or, even worse, guess. As it was, a few days’ grace would enable her to figure out how she would dissemble when the inevitable scathing remark about Robert Montemorcy came. ‘I wonder why he did not take his carriage. He knows your carriage is slow and badly sprung. It is liable to break down at any moment.’
Sounds of raised voices filled the library, drowning out her aunt’s reply. Henri frowned as her body trembled. One of the voices was Robert’s. And something had angered him.
Henri put her hand to her mouth. Fear numbed her brain. Someone had seen them. It only could be that. Nothing else. Her life was about to irrevocably change.
‘Out of my way, man!’ Robert bellowed. ‘I want answers. Answers only Lady Thorndike can give. I will not be deterred by a servant!’
Reynolds blocked the entrance to the drawing room. Around his bulk, Henri could see a desperate Robert. At her signal and with an urbane bow, Reynolds allowed Robert into the drawing room. Robert stumbled once, straightened his greatcoat and strode into the room. His looming presence made the room seem small.
‘Well, Lady Thorndike, what do you have to say for yourself? Are you proud of all that you achieved this morning?’ Robert’s harsh accusatory words cut through her, stabbing her in the heart. He’d condemned her of a crime, but she was innocent. The only crime she’d committed was to give in to his seduction.
Henri crossed her arms and kept her chin up. She took a steadying breath. No man was going to treat her in that fashion! She was not some strumpet to be seduced and discarded at will.
‘You will not abuse Reynolds in that fashion. He is not your servant, but my aunt’s,’ Henri said, trying for a calm serenity. ‘Something is obviously bothering you, Mr Montemorcy, but I can assure you that it is nothing that my aunt’s servant has done. Or, indeed, any member of this household.’
‘Your cousin and Miss Ravel! Where are they? You must know.’ He looked about the room as if he expected to see the pair cowering behind the damask sofa. ‘Sophie! I want to speak to you!’
‘Neither Sebastian nor Sophie are here. Sophie has never visited this house.’ Henri stared at him in astonishment. Sebastian and Sophie were together somewhere? Eloped? Instantly she rejected the notion as fustian nonsense. Sophie would never go willingly with Sebastian, not if she had told Henri the truth, and Sebastian would never force a woman. But Aunt Frances had spoken of Sebastian’s plan. Was this it? Suddenly, Henri struggled to breathe. Leaping to conclusions would be fatal. Somewhere, somehow, this coil was a mistake. It would need a steady hand and a cool head to untangle it. ‘Jumping to ridiculous assumptions will not solve anything.’
‘An officious manner will not deflect me. Surely you can do better than that, Lady Thorndike.’ Robert stood, bristling with anger. ‘They have run away together.’
‘How do you know that they are together?’ Henri attempted a placating smile, but the knots in her stomach tightened. Everything seemed to slow down. Sebastian’s new scheme. He thought she was involved. ‘I think I’d have known if something like this was planned. And I can assure you that neither confided any such scheme to me. Quite the opposite, in Sophie’s case. Where is your proof, Mr Montemorcy? Or is it merely some village tittle-tattle gone wrong?’
Robert thrust a piece of paper under her nose and she caught a flash of hurt betrayal in his eyes that was almost instantly masked. ‘My ward has run away with your cousin and I want to know what part you played. After all, dear Sebastian would never do anything like this without consulting you first, Lady Thorndike. You’re the oracle for all things matrimonial. Miss Armstrong also waylaid me with the news! How long have you been planning this?’
Henri took the letter and rapidly read it before numbly handing it to her aunt. All the bright glory of earlier faded to a dull grey. She’d been living in a fool’s paradise. She’d been caught in Sebastian’s web of intrigue and there was no way that Robert would believe in her innocence.
‘Sebastian, what have you done?’ she whispered, glancing up into Robert’s hard unyielding face.
‘No, Henrietta, no! Not this!’ Her aunt gasped and rapidly began to fan herself. ‘He promised me no scandal. Do you think I would have lent him my carriage if I thought there would be a scandal?’
It was only then the full import washed over her. It was no malicious slander on Miss Armstrong’s part, or contretemps with a bored wife. Sebastian was with Sophie. He’d elope
d with a débutante. Or worse. This situation had all the hallmarks of a Sebastian-induced disaster, but even Sebastian in his supreme selfishness could not have realised what he had set in motion. How she had fallen into Robert’s arms and made love to him. She had behaved little better than a harlot, but it had been her desire for Robert that had driven her, rather than some misguided attempt to give Sebastian the opportunity to elope with Sophie. He had to understand that fact without her saying anything. Or otherwise.
Her insides became encased in ice. Robert and her. He thought she had something to do with it. That she had meddled or, worse still, facilitated it.
An ice-cold hand gripped her heart. He had to believe her innocence. Without trust, where was love? She’d been a fool to think she could experience passion without her emotions being engaged. She did have feelings for Robert but he had none for her.
‘Are you willing to give me an explanation now, Lady Thorndike?’ The underlying note of passionate anger shimmered in his voice. ‘What was your part in this wretched affair? As you said, you were bound to be involved if the pair ran away together, and they’ve run. You were the one who counselled me not to read her letters. You were the one who advocated Sophie going to the ball where she did dance with Cawburn.’
‘I played no part. Sebastian and Sophie both duped me.’ Henri held out her hands and willed him to believe. She was innocent on that accusation. She shouldn’t have to explain to him of all people. He should understand, after what they had shared, that she couldn’t hurt him in that way. ‘I wish them well, but this is the first I have heard of the elopement. Believe me, please. You must believe me.’
Robert’s features showed a look of immense pain before hardening into a disdainful mask. ‘You deny your part. You contend that you had nothing to do with the elopement. And you expect me to believe that.’
‘Yes, I do.’ Henri clasped her hands together and tried to hang on to that flash of vulnerability, rather than his avenging-angel look. Somewhere inside him that passionate lover of earlier today lurked and had to be listening to her and believing.
She waited, but his look grew colder and more remote. Her words of denial had fallen on deaf ears. Henri attempted to swallow around the growing lump in her throat. He’d no finer feeling for her. For him, it had all been physical need. And for her, it had been an expression of emotion, a desire to be close to him. Despite her vows and declarations, she’d done the unthinkable—she’d fallen in love. The knowledge tasted like ash in her mouth. But in that instant she knew she could never let him know. She couldn’t risk being hurt again.
Keeping her gaze on a point above his shoulder, she started again in a voice that picked up strength and purpose with each word that she uttered. ‘I’d no idea that they were going to run away together. I thought the romance was dead. Sophie seemed far more interested in Doctor Lumley than an ageing rake, which is what she called Sebastian on the last morning I was at the New Lodge. I told Sebastian this. I told him to grow up and solve his problems on his own.’
She was proud of the way she finished. She waited for his abject apology.
‘Your protestation of innocence grows increasingly wearisome, Lady Thorndike.’ He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her away from him. His mobile mouth, which only a few hours before had kissed her senseless, was now an angry white line, his eyes hardened points of coal instead of multicoloured pools.
Henri’s insides twisted. He believed her guilty without even waiting for her explanation. It was as if what lay between them was irrevocably shattered, leaving only bitterness and resentment. And she knew she would miss that ease and friendship. She was bereft and alone. Unjustly accused. And her brilliant idea of it only being the physical that she cared about was a foolish lie. It had gone beyond the physical for her. She had cared and cared deeply for Robert, and his refusal to believe her hurt far more than it should.
‘Why shouldn’t I when I am innocent?’ she retorted in a furious undertone.
‘Innocent? You?’ Robert shook his head as he struggled to hang on to his temper. Henri was lying through her teeth and he wanted to know why she cared so little for him. ‘It’s clear what happened and how you two conspired. The poor stupid man will be so blinded by Lady Thorndike’s attention that he will not even notice what is going on beneath his nose. Will not even notice until it is far too late. How do you think that makes me feel?’
Henri twisted in his grasp, but he clung on, wanting her to admit the truth. He wanted to shake her or to kiss her senseless. Anything to get her to tell him the truth. ‘You have it all wrong. Now let me go!’
Lady Cawburn advanced towards them. Her widow’s cap quivered as she reached for the poker. ‘Mr Montemorcy, stop assaulting my niece!’
The words shocked him back to sensibility. He released her, not knowing who he loathed more—Henri for deceiving him or himself for losing his temper.
‘Forgive me, my emotions overcame me.’
Henri stumbled away from him. She wrapped her arms about her middle and tried to keep her heart from breaking into a thousand shards. Robert wanted to believe the worst of her.
‘I wish I could help, but I had no idea this was going to happen,’ she said, blinking furiously. She refused to humiliate herself further and beg. ‘I’ve not left this house all day. You were here earlier. Do you think I could keep something like this hidden from you? I’m dreadful at keeping secrets, truly I am.’
‘I know where you were this morning, and that I was with you. You summoned me.’ He paused and his gaze travelled slowly and insolently down her, as if he were remembering every curve of her body. A hot flush crept up Henri’s body. ‘The note purporting to be from Sophie is not in her hand, but in the same hand as the note I received this morning from you, asking me to visit and discuss the proposed picnic.’
‘I wrote no note.’ A deep chill entered her bones. He had called because a note had been sent in her name, a note written by the same person who had penned the one from Sophie. Sebastian had set her up. He had been the one to play Cupid, not her aunt. This was his doing, everything, and she’d blundered into a trap. ‘Show me the note and I will prove it is not in my hand.’
‘Compare the two. Compare it with the notice about the dancing classes. Prove me wrong.’ He reached into his pocket and thrust the other notes into her hand.
Henri gingerly plucked the papers from Robert’s fingertips, being careful not to touch him. Her name was boldly scrawled, including the distinctive H she used. Nausea rose in her throat.
‘Why would I write about the other forfeit? I had agreed the treasure-hunt picnic needed to be held elsewhere. I understand about the scientific method and what you are trying to achieve. You said to look at facts, and right now you are ignoring them. You have decided that I’m guilty when, in fact, I’m innocent.’
The silence pressed down on her soul, but she kept her head high, stared directly into Robert’s eyes and willed him to believe. A myriad of emotions washed over his face.
‘My son did send a note over to your house earlier,’ her aunt said, breaking the silence. ‘He didn’t say who wrote it or divulge its contents.’
Robert closed his eyes. A sliver of hope sliced through him. Maybe Henri hadn’t behaved badly. All of his instincts told him to fold her into his arms and apologise, but he couldn’t, not until he knew for certain.
‘One must be logical about these things,’ he said finally in a flat voice. ‘Logic before emotion.’
Their eyes met for a long moment and then Henri dropped her head and examined the carpet.
‘No, you are right,’ she said in a voice devoid of emotion. ‘The reason why you came over this morning has no meaning now. My mistake, such as it was, was not to ask to see that note then. This entire affair might not have happened if I had.’
Henri was proud of the way her voice remained steady. Inside, her stomach ached with searing pain. Her pleasant dream of a quiet affair with Robert lay in ashes at her feet. There could
never be anything between them because of the trick Sebastian had played. If Robert had not come over here, if they had not made love, Sophie might not have been ruined. She knew it and Robert knew it. What might have been was already over.
‘What does he intend for Sophie? Marriage to clear his debts?’ Robert’s voice came from a long way away.
Henri wrapped her hands about her waist. She wanted him to hold her and to tell her that this time she was not alone and Sebastian had not gone too far. That everything would end happily. But long ago, she had given up wishing for the moon. She gave her head a shake and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand rather than what might have been. ‘He mentioned that he thought her an angel and the idea of marriage had crossed his mind.’
‘I see.’ He nodded towards her aunt. ‘Forgive the intrusion, Lady Cawburn. I had hopes of finding my ward before her reputation was irreparably damaged. But I see I was led along a false trail.’
Or she was condemned to an unwise marriage. The unspoken words hung in the air.
‘You don’t see and you are wilfully misunderstanding.’ Henri grabbed his sleeve. He looked down at her with cold hard eyes and she released him. ‘You are looking at it all wrong, just as you always do. Sometimes you have to trust your instincts.’
‘Instinct leads you down false paths.’
‘My ideas are better than your blind logic!’ Henri cried.
Robert shook his head. He stood in the middle of the room, taking huge gulps of air. His hands clenched and unclenched, but he made no move to touch her. He appeared lost and alone, a little boy instead of the angry man, the boy who had idolised Sophie’s father and given him his promise to look after his daughter. The young man whose father had committed suicide rather than face the disgrace of his new wife leaving him for another man. And she knew how seriously he took his responsibility. Despite everything, she wanted to gather him in her arms and hold him. She wanted to wring Sebastian’s neck for doing this.
‘You never give up. Even now,’ he said in a low voice.
To Marry A Matchmaker (Historical Romance) Page 18
