Chapter Twenty-Eight
The bookroom door opened, and her father emerged, followed by Guy. He looked serious and very pale. Hetty leapt to her feet. Guy took her by the hand. “I must speak with you.” With a nod to the others in the room, he drew her into the empty bookroom and shut the door.
His dark eyebrows beetled. “Do you realize how dangerous it was for you to become involved in this affair? And after I asked you never to do it again.”
“I do.” Hetty blinked as his angry gaze sliced into her. “I don’t think you’re about to thank me for it,” she said, attempting a little humor.
It didn’t work.
“Promise me that you will never to do anything like that again.”
“To be honest, I’ve had quite enough excitement of late—”
“Promise me.” He tipped up her chin and searched her eyes.
“I promise,” Hetty said, and her lashes swept down, to hide her absolute relief to find him alive and relatively unscathed.
“Good. Come and sit down.”
Seated beside him on the small sofa, she inspected him. His features looked finely drawn, making him appear even more elegant and devastating. He moved awkwardly as if in pain. She had a strong urge to hug him, mother him, make love to him. The force of her feelings turned her breath to a deep sigh. “Did that brigand, Smith, shoot you?”
“No, he did not.”
“But you are hurt.”
“A mere graze.”
“I can see the pain in your eyes, and your jaw is working. You do that when you’re distressed.”
“Of course, I’m distressed, Hetty. I don’t want a wife who goes off half-cocked at every little thing.”
She huffed at the unfairness of it, but she would not cast the blame at Genevieve. Except for the smelly disguise, she had been eager to join her. “I didn’t go off half-cocked, as you put it. But I have no desire to take such risks again.”
“You will accuse me of being overly protective. But I am not about to apologize for it.”
“You have no need to worry,” she said, tracing a finger over his tense jaw. If Guy was ever in trouble again, how could she keep such a promise? But there was no sense in telling him now. She prayed there would never be a need for her to break it.
One heavy brow slanted in disapproval. “Don’t make the mistake you can fool me, Hetty.” He framed her face with his hands and planted a hard kiss on her mouth.
“I’m glad that’s settled,” she said with a sigh, and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“There’s another thing. And this is most important. I want you to understand what marriage to me will be like. In the future, I’ll need to travel to inspect my other properties and take my place in the House of Lords. And then, we will attend the London season. But for now, I wish to remain in Digswell.”
Guy was too honorable ever to cry off, but did he still want to marry her? Or had she driven him away by going off half-cocked as he put it? Distress tightened her rib cage. “Papa insists on me going home with him today.”
He nodded. “To attend his wedding.”
“And afterward?” she asked, needing him to say the words.
“We shall marry as soon as possible.” A smile lingered on his lips. “I find myself becoming very impatient, Hetty.”
Her breath quickened as she looked into his hot blue eyes. “Oh, yes, Guy.”
Guy eyed her carefully. “I shall purchase a special license from Doctor’s Commons and visit St. Georges to set the date.”
Hetty grew hot. A poker seemed to have lodged in her spine. Her fear that she would become the subject of drawing rooms and be snubbed was bad enough, but not at her wedding. “Very well.”
His dark eyebrows rose. “You’re happy to be married in London?”
A baron should marry at St. Georges, Hetty knew. “I am, it’s just that, it will be such a big affair and will take much organizing, then be weeks away.” She glanced at the black armband he wore, feeling he might prefer a quieter ceremony in the little Digswell church. “Of course, I want it, if you do, Guy.”
“Perhaps in the circumstances we should marry in Digswell,” Guy said, a smile tugging at his lips.
Relief threaded through her. “Oh yes. Perhaps we should.”
Guy laughed and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. “As we both reside in Digswell, the banns can be read next Sunday. As soon as your father returns from his honeymoon, we shall marry.”
Her aunt knocked on the door. “Luncheon will be served directly.”
Hetty sighed. Now that her aunt had decided to be an assiduous chaperone, Hetty felt like a rabbit being watched by a hawk. “We are to marry in Digswell, Aunt.”
“That is good news. I shall have to consult my fashion magazines. I wonder what brides are wearing this season?” Aunt Emily disappeared again.
Hetty met Guy’s gaze and laughed.
*
Eustace took Guy aside. “I’m sorry we got off to such a bad start.”
“You were right to be cautious,” Guy said, not wishing to stir the waters, although the man’s ungenerous attitude toward him still rankled.
“And I’m aware of your disappointment concerning the condition of the hall.”
“I’ve become more aware of the problems here in England,” Guy said, striving for diplomacy.
Eustace shuffled his feet and refused to meet Guy’s eyes. There was not going to be an explanation or a sincere apology. He obviously struggled to come to face his culpability. “I will leave Rosecroft after I attend your wedding.”
Guy had a grudging sympathy for him. It couldn’t be easy to leave the home he’d lived in for the last thirty-odd years. “You are family and will always be welcome under my roof, Eustace, as I’ve been at pains to tell you.”
Eustace’s lips firmed in a determined line. He shook his head. “Now that my health requires the constant attention of a doctor, I shall remain in London.” He smiled. “You are to bring your new bride home to Rosecroft Hall, Guy. You don’t need Horatia’s old godfather lurking in corners.”
Guy returned the smile. “But you will visit us. I know she would wish it.”
“Once in a while perhaps, to visit friends. There’s another thing I should mention. When a thief began stealing from the big houses in the county, I sent paintings and statuary to London for safekeeping. Some Meissen and Sévres china, too. I will have it returned.”
“Merci.” Guy bowed, marveling at his ability to hold his tongue. Relieved that some had survived being sold to finance Eustace’s gambling debts, proved by the wagers and iou’s he’d found in Eustace’s library drawer, he decided never to utter a word of reproof. Hetty loved her godfather, and who was he to try to change it?
“Ah. I see luncheon is served,” Eustace said with obvious relief as the maid opened the dining room door. “Emily tells me we’re to have mulligatawny soup, a collection of breads, and salad. I confess to being rather peckish.”
“I don’t believe I’ve encountered mulligatawny soup,” Guy said. The food the English ate still had the power to surprise him.
“A recipe the colonel brought back from India and quite hearty.”
Still beset by low spirits, Guy returned to find Hetty chatting with Genevieve. He narrowed his eyes at Genevieve and was given a lift of her eyebrows in response. Although he was enormously fond of her, he admitted he’d feel a little relieved when she returned to France. One recalcitrant lady in his care was enough.
Hetty rose with her sweet smile, took his arm, and they walked into the dining room together.