A fortnight had passed, and so much had changed, much to Ernest’s delight, and he was so close to victory he could taste it. In the aftermath of the unpleasant scene at Gunter’s, and Henrietta’s misguided distress born of genuine fear, he realized she was not so keen on his plan as she originally conveyed, despite claims to the contrary, so he altered his tack. After a heated discussion, arguing various solutions, his brother sent a missive to The Times, announcing the marriage of Henrietta Katherine Graham, of Tunbridge Wells, Kent, to Lord Ernest Cornelius Frederick Howe, with the wedding to take place on June sixth at St. George’s, Hanover Square, at the height of the Season.
Given the banns had been posted, Ernest followed proper decorum and observed all strictures—outside her bedchamber. But within the walls of her sanctuary, between the soft sheets where they came together and joined their bodies, again and again, they found beautiful, mutual acceptance, unshakeable, as if forged in iron. The attachment, the devotion, and the love he thought he harbored for her grew by seemingly endless bounds, beyond the limits of emotion of which he thought himself capable, and he would let nothing stand in their way.
So all they had to do was dance across the ton’s ballrooms, smile, and do the pretty for society, for a few more weeks, and they were free. They had already decided to immediately retire to Whitstone, which remained under renovation since he completed the purchase, to avoid further mishaps and spare his provincial lady untoward chagrin, until Florence could school Henrietta in the tangled web known as etiquette, and his bride regained her confidence. Then she would take her rightful place, where she always belonged. Although she was not to the manor born, she was born to be his, just as he belonged to her. That was why they ventured to the Hogart’s musicale that evening.
The unparalleled experience, and that was a vast deal more than generous description, offered Henrietta an opportunity to mix and mingle in a relatively safe environment. Given the talent, and that was another far too kind depiction of the Hogart’s abilities, which were without equal to say the least, he doubted anyone would be paying attention to his future wife. Thus she could gain a measure of practice with not much required on her part.
It was with that thought in mind that he waited in the foyer for his fiancée. Just as he checked his timepiece, she appeared on the landing, and a shudder of awareness rocked his frame, because he had never beheld such a vision.
“Good evening, my lord.” Gowned in a cream masterpiece trimmed in old gold, with clusters of multi-colored flowers painted about the bodice, the only thing she lacked was a pair of wings to complete her angelic profile. “Am I late?”
“You are right on time.” In that moment, he envisioned her as she looked that afternoon, when he made love to her, with her brown hair splayed across her pillow, and her sweet breasts jostling in time with his thrusts, and it was all he could do not to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back to her suite. Instead, he met her at the final step, which brought them nose to nose, and he kissed her in a lengthy sashay that barely satisfied his appetite. “Ah, my darling, you are so beautiful I could cry.”
“Ernest, I do love you.” As she brushed aside the hair from his forehead, she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat. “We are going to make it, are we not?”
“I love you, too, my little bird.” He rested his palms to her hips and nipped at her nose. “And, yes, we shall triumph, just as I predict our wedding will be the fête to end all fêtes this Season.”
“I am so glad to hear you say that.” Shimmering, she skipped down the final step, wound her arm in his, and they departed Howe House, with Barrington and Florence.
After a brief carriage ride, they strolled into the Mayfair townhouse, where Beryl Hogart, a portly woman with salt and pepper hair, waited to greet them.
“Lord Ernest and Miss Graham, welcome to my humble abode. Permit me to congratulate you on your impending nuptials, which is the talk of the town.” Wearing a bright purple turban and a matching dress, Mrs. Hogart, known for her charitable soul inasmuch as her less than graceful daughters, gushed. “Imagine my delight when I learned the most notable couple in London deigned to attend our musicale, and you are in for a real treat, because my girls have something very special planned for your entertainment.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Hogart.” Oh, Ernest knew it would be entertaining, and he swallowed a snort of laughter. “But Miss Graham and I were honored to receive your invitation, given I have told her so much about the Misses Hogart and their inimitable prowess on the violin and the pianoforte, not to mention Miranda’s singular vocals, thus nothing could keep her from it. And who am I to refuse my bride-to-be?”
In that instant, Henrietta tensed at his side, and she flexed her fingers, belying her composure.
“Miss Graham, you are too kind.” Mrs. Hogart retreated and scrutinized Henrietta from top to toe. “And you are wearing one of your unusual fashions, which I have heard much about, but the rumors do not do you justice. I beg you, you must tell me the name of your designer, because my Miranda expects to make her own happy announcement with Sir Archibald Kleinfeld, at the end of the Season. You know he has two-thousand a year.”
“How wonderful, Mrs. Hogart.” Henrietta dipped her chin. “Felicitations, to you and your family. And I am so pleased to at last make the acquaintance of one of the ton’s grand dames, such that I am a tad intimidated, and I pray you forgive me.”
“Upon my word.” Mrs. Hogart pressed a hand to her chest. “But you are a woman of discriminating taste and uncommon judgment, for your age, and I knew the moment I saw you that we would get on famously.”
“Now, if you will excuse us, we should secure seats for the performance.” Ernest bowed and drew Henrietta into the hall, so Barrington and Florence could enter the line of fire. As they cleared the foyer, he bent his head and whispered, “That was inspiring.”
“I am fortunate she presented no great mystery, but she strikes me as harmless.” Henrietta nodded to a few notables. “What I do not fathom is how many people showed up for what you described as a violent abuse of the ears and a murderous affront to composers, everywhere.”
“That is because the Hogart’s reputation precedes them, and this really is the best show in town, although not as they intend.” Ernest ushered her to two seats at the end of the back row. “Shall I fetch you a cup of lemonade, before the torture commences?”
“Oh, do not leave me.” Panic invested her gaze, and she grabbed his wrist. “I am fine.”
“Sweetheart, you must not be afraid.” When she yanked him again, he relented and sat. “Really, Hen, you cannot live in fear of what might happen, and this is the most innocuous of engagements. Please, relax and enjoy the night, because I so looked forward to spending time with you.”
“You spend plenty of time with me, in my bedchamber, my lord.” She giggled, and he knew exactly to what she referred. “In fact, Florence says you and I live in each other’s pockets. Is it bad that I prefer it that way?”
“I think, for us, it is very good, and I plan to bury my face between your sumptuous breasts, later.” He waggled his brows, when she gasped, and waved, as Barrington and Florence entered the room. “And Flo is one to talk, given she occupies the marquess’s suite, and I doubt she has ever slept in her own apartment.”
“It is rather warm in here.” Florence fanned herself, as she took the seat beside Henrietta. “And I hope this does not go on too late.”
“Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” Barrington inquired, as he plopped next to her. “Because your wish is my command.”
“You could take me home.” Florence drew a handkerchief from her reticule and daubed her temples. “Of course, I am joking, because we are here to support Hen, but we do so under very hard terms, and I will not be held responsible if I revisit my dinner, once the trauma begins.”
“Is it truly that foul?” Hen asked, in a soft voice, just as the twins assumed their positions.
“You are about to find out for yourself.” Indeed, Ernest hoped what could best be described as a comedy of errors would provide a bit of levity during an otherwise stressful time for his lady. “Brace yourself, darling.”
The crowd settled, and a hush fell upon the gathering, as the sisters took up their instruments of destruction. Tension weighed heavy in the air, and then the agony commenced.
On the violin, Miranda Hogart scratched something akin to the shrill noises emitted by two cats rather fond of each other, while Margaret pummeled the ivories as if she were killing flies. Barrington compressed his lips, even as his shoulders trembled, Florence bowed her head and failed to stifle a telltale gurgle of mirth, and Henrietta, wide-eyed and mouth agape, flinched and stared at Ernest, and it was all he could do not to laugh aloud at her reaction.
As the second movement played, Barrington winced, Florence gazed at the floor and wiped a stray tear, and Henrietta grimaced, as she dug her fingers into his arm. At last, mercifully, the first of two scheduled intermissions provided a moment of relief.
“My lord, I owe you an apology.” Henrietta shifted her weight, and he admired her bosom, which always distracted him. “I thought you exaggerated, but I see now you underestimated the Hogarts’…skills, and I use the term lightly. Had I known—”
“Good evening, Lord and Lady Ravenwood.” A painfully familiar voice intruded on the otherwise charming exchange, and Ernest cursed under his breath, as he stood to greet the pest. “Hello, Lord Ernest and Miss Graham. I was surprised to read the news of your wedding, and I would offer my sincere congratulations, along with a member of my family.” Agnes Dudley lifted her chin, in an unmistakable air of superiority that grated his last nerve, and turned to another woman. “Permit me to introduce my sister, Bertha Bland of Tunbridge Wells.”
Before he could acknowledge the unwelcomed interlopers, Bertha stuck out her finger and pointed at Henrietta. “I know that fashion.” Then Ms. Bland wrinkled her nose and squinted through her spectacles. “You are no lady of quality. Why, you are a seamstress from Kent, and I remember your aunt.” She sneered and then glanced about the room, as if preparing to impart a dirty little secret. “Miss Graham is in trade.”
“Madam, control yourself.” Ernest charged the fore, as Henrietta slowly rose from her chair.
The crowd quieted, and a chorus of whispers pervaded the assembly.
One by one, all gazes focused on the unfortunate altercation, which threatened to bring down his fiancée, and he sought the nearest escape but found none. Indeed, all he could do was watch the ensuing confrontation.
“She is an imposter.” Bertha shrieked, as if Henrietta were some sort of criminal. “And I wager she made that dress she wears, because she cannot possibly afford the work of a better designer.”
“How dare you, as I am no imposter.” Henrietta squared her shoulders, ignoring his pleas for forbearance, and he suspected he knew what would happen next, based on her demeanor. When he clutched her by the wrist, she wrenched free. “Yes, I made my gown, and I am quite proud of it. And, yes, I made an honest living, working for my dearly departed aunt, in her boutique. But if you think that beneath you, then you will be further troubled by the fact that I am also a stablemaster’s daughter, and I would match my character against yours, any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”
~
It was late when Henrietta stirred in the quiet solitude of her bedchamber. Rolling to the side, she realized she remained fully clothed, and she swung her legs over the side of the mattress and stood.
After the scene that spoiled the Hogart’s musicale, Ernest and Henrietta, along with Barrington and Florence, made a less than elegant exit, to a noticeable symphony of murmurs, from the event. As so many violent emotions thrashed and swirled within her, the rest of the family remained stoic, and for her the silence functioned as a death knell to her short-lived courtship and introduction to London society, although no one said as much.
In the long mirror, she studied her reflection and the delicate garment she created.
No matter what Agnes Dudley and Bertha Bland said, Henrietta took enormous pride in the unique items she fashioned, and no one could shame her for that. But her actions, however unfairly motivated, reflected negatively on Ernest, and she vowed never to embarrass him. Given she revealed the truth of her birth, and his desire to live in society, she doubted he would marry her, especially as he had not come to her, and that spoke volumes.
Because she had never spent a night bereft of his warm and reassuring embrace, since they reunited, after he made his pledge to that effect. So she resolved to make the separation as easy as possible, because she endured enough drama for two lifetimes.
From the armoire, she drew a carriage dress made of grey wool, as well as several other personal belongings. At the vanity, she removed the diamond ear fobs and the delicate bracelet Ernest gifted her. With a few twists and turns, she loosened her laces and stripped off the dress.
Frowning at the heavy trunk that conveyed her things to Howe House, she opted to borrow a couple of pillowcases, which she snatched from the four-poster. Since Ernest purchased the material for her clothes, she selected only those articles she could not live without, leaving behind the most expensive apparel, in the event he could resell them and reclaim some of his money.
Once she changed into the traveling dress, she fetched her lesser quality boots, which she tied tight, and then lined up the fancy slippers. With a final check of the room, she smoothed the plush counterpane and paused at the footboard, to revisit precious memories.
“Oh, Ernest.” Tears beckoned, but she swallowed hard and stood upright, determined to make things right. “You will never know how much I love you.”
In that moment, something inside her fractured, sending minute cuts, lethal in their assault, spreading through her, but she would not be deterred. Because she could not survive a confrontation with and a rejection from her beau. So she would run away. She would flee to some place where no one knew her name, and she could be whatever she wanted to be, including a stablemaster’s daughter, without fear of recrimination or censure, thus she turned on a heel, grabbed the stuffed bundles, and sprinted from the room.
A single taper lit the hall, as she made her escape. On guard for her lady’s maid and the butler, Henrietta tiptoed across the landing and down the grand staircase. In the foyer, she halted, glanced left and then right, continued to the morning room, and paused at the terrace doors.
The moon cast a silvery glow on the flagged stones, and a soft breeze thrummed through her hair, as she ventured outside and down the pebbled path. At the back gate, she lifted the latch and skulked into the alley, where she rushed to the mews.
To her surprise, a soft yellow light emanated from the window of the small quarters in which her father lived, while the family resided in town, and she considered it a sign that fate smiled upon her. She rapped her knuckles on the oak panel, and she started when her father snatched open the door.
“Henrietta?” Shock invested his features, as he blinked. “What are you doing here, at this late hour?”
“I need to speak with you, and it is urgent.” Now the pain she had kept at bay burst forth, as the incoming tide, and she wept without restraint. “Please, Papa, I beg you. I must leave, now.” Pushing him aside, she rushed into the modest chamber. “Indeed, I must away, before Ernest finds out—”
“Before Ernest finds out—what, my little bird?”
The floor seemed to pitch and roll beneath her feet, and the room spun out of control, as she told herself she must have been suffering from some strange delirium. She had to have imagined Ernest’s entreaty. Slowly. Painfully slowly, she rotated and faced her doom.
“What are you doing here?” Praying for calm, she pretended nothing was wrong. That her heart was not breaking into countless tiny pieces. “Why are you here?”
“I could ask the same of you.” He narrowed his stare and then arched a brow. “Going somewhere?”
“I thought to spare you the difficulties of a broken promise.” Shivering, she fought to maintain control, even as her knees buckled, and he lurched forward to catch her.
“Henrietta, you make no sense, but that is not your fault, as you had a terrible fright, tonight.” Expecting criticism and recriminations, she was stunned when he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Darling, sit down, as you are still pale, and I am worried about you.”
“Do you not want me to leave?” She struggled and dropped her bundles. “Are you not preparing to send me away?”
“What on earth ever gave you such a ridiculous notion?” Wrapping an arm about her waist, he pulled her close. “Sweetheart, you are not thinking clearly.”
“Yes, I am.” Stock-still, she thrust her chin. “You were not with me, when I woke, and you are always with me. You promised I would never pass a night not spent in your embrace, and you were not there. I was alone.”
In that moment, Barrington cleared his throat. “Er—Graham, what say we step outside, and let my brother smooth things with Henrietta?”
“That is an excellent suggestion, my lord.” Papa scowled. “Because I might be moved to violence, if I hear more. As it is, I believe I must insist Lord Ernest marry my daughter.”
“Sir, trust me, that was never in doubt.” Ernest cupped her cheek, angled his head, and bestowed upon her a thorough kiss, which left her swimming in a sea of confusion. “Now, you will sit.”
With that, he plopped into a chair and tugged her into his lap.
“Why were you not there?” Random memories flitted through her brain, and she tried but failed to apprehend their meaning. “What happened after we departed the Hogart’s?”
“It was quiet in the coach, because you were so pale, and we worried for your health.” He nuzzled her temple. “You could not stop shaking, and before we arrived home, you fainted. So I carried you to your bed, left orders that you were not to be disturbed, because I planned to tend you, myself, and I joined my brother and your father, to strategize our next move.”
Unable to withstand any more uncertainty, Henrietta burst into tears. “My lord, I am so sorry I shamed you in front of your friends.”
“But you did nothing of the sort.” Drawing his handkerchief from his coat pocket, he frowned and then dried her cheeks. “Indeed, you were glorious, as you put that dreadful Bland woman in her place, and set Agnes Dudley on her heels. Daresay half the people in the room were cheering for you.”
“So you are not angry with me?” Hope glimmered, yet she was afraid to trust it. “You will not send me away?”
“Never.” Cradling her head, he swayed from side to side. “I am going to marry the stablemaster’s daughter, and I do not give a damn what anyone thinks.”
“I should have been honest with you.” She sniffed. “More important, I should have been honest with myself, but I did so wish to please you. Yet, I suspect I will never be anything more than I am right now.”
“Henrietta, you have never done anything less, and I owe you an apology. Indulge me.” Resting his chin to her crown, he sighed, and she felt it all the way to her toes. “Do you recall the summer parties my parents used to hold, every August, when you often loomed in the shrubbery and peered through the back parlor window, pressing your nose to the glass?”
“I do.” Safe and warm in his hold, she let go the tension that tied her gut in knots and relaxed.
“And how I stole various sweetmeats, which I took to you?” When she nodded, he chuckled. “We used to sit beneath the old yew, on Oker Hill, throw our own private celebration, and stuff our bellies full, until that year my father caught you staring at his guests.”
“I was six, and Lord Ravenwood insisted my father punish me.” That Henrietta would never forget. “In fact, he ordered my father to spank me, on pain of termination, and Lord Ravenwood refused to leave until it was done, thus he sat and watched my humiliation. It was the only time my father ever struck me, and he wept with me, afterward.”
“How I hated my father for that.” Ernest tightened his grip. “Though we were but children, I vowed, then and there, that you would one day stand at my side, for all to see, as my wife. That you would dine at our table. You would sleep in the master suite. You would wear the finest clothes. You would boast glittering gems. You would dance at the balls. You would want for nothing, and it is an oath I intend to keep, as a man.”
“But I only want you,” she replied, in a small voice.
“Ah, Hen, you slay me.” Grasping the hair at her nape, he tipped back her head and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss that curled her toes. After several heated, desperately tender minutes, he retreated, only to hug her close. “My mistake was in trying to remake you, but that ended, this evening. Yet all is not lost, and Barrington set in motion a scheme that should settle the matter.”
“Oh?” She was not sure what to make of that revelation. “Does it involve another musicale at the Hogart’s?”
“No.” He laughed. “But we can discuss it, in the morning.” In a flash, he rose and carried her with him. “Right now, I want to return to your room, get out of these clothes, and make love.”
“That is an idea I can wholeheartedly support.” With her nose, she traced the curve of his ear. “Ernest, I do love you.”
“And I love you, my little bird.” Then he snickered, as he swept her outside. “Gentlemen, crisis averted, as Henrietta bestows her heart upon this beggar.”
“That is a relief.” Papa glanced at her and smiled. “You need to rest, as Lord Ernest told me what happened, but Lord Ravenwood will set everything right, and he insists you do him a great favor.”
“Really?” Perplexed by the cryptic comment, she canted her head and peered at Barrington. “How so?”
“Indeed, this is a chance at redemption, for me. It is an opportunity for me to take care of my little brother, for a change, so I thank you, Henrietta.” Rocking on his heels, Barrington grinned. “As for my plan, given I am a marquess, that counts for something. But suffice it to say, I have friends in high places.”