The streets of Chesterfield were alive with activity, as Ernest escorted Henrietta to the market. Wearing one of his best coats and a new pair of buckskin breeches, with his Hessians polished to a mirror-shine, he simmered with excitement, smiled, and acknowledged various locals of note, offering little in the way of information regarding the mysterious lady at his side. Brimming with pride, given the beauty on his arm, he resolved to purchase the entire lot of ladies’ accouterments, if only to please Hen, because she accepted him, and it had been a long time since he savored the rousing taste of hope.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Fussing with the velvet bow of the dark green poke bonnet she borrowed from Florence, Henrietta bit her bottom lip. “And should I not have a chaperone?”

“Perhaps, but we will not let that stop us from enjoying ourselves, will we?” Indeed, nothing could temper the thrill of victory, as he embarked on the courtship to end all courtships. “And this is a most excellent idea, because I would have the world know you are mine.”

“Are you not putting the cart before the horse?” She glanced at the two footmen, in tow. “We have made no announcement, and we have yet to survive the Season.”

“A mere formality.” Nothing could spoil the moment, as Ernest led her to a stall that featured a huge collection of hair adornments, because countless times he had envisioned indulging her. “Shall we begin here?” He selected a lovely silk bandeau. “What about this? Could you not use it to complete one of your unique ensembles?”

“What a stunning shade of red.” Wrinkling her nose, she leaned close. “But the gathers are uneven, and there is no velvet underside to hold the bandeau in place. Without the velvet, the decoration will slip free.”

“Well, let us continue, my dear.”

A half an hour later, after perusing the entire collection, as if they were running a race at the Royal Ascot, they departed without buying a thing, because nothing met her standards. Hoping to have more luck with gowns, he ushered her into one of the town’s most exclusive boutiques. Soon, he realized no one could satisfy Henrietta’s impeccable taste and unmatched requirements.

“Will nothing suit?” Disappointed, he ignored the nagging sense of failure that crept into his brain, spreading like some foul disease and gnawing at his flagging confidence.

“The dress is charming, but it is representative of last year’s fashions and evidences no real talent for design.” As she scrutinized a partially completed garment, she narrowed her stare and shook her head. “Look.” She pointed for emphasis. “The hem is uneven, the side seams are crooked, and the heavy taffeta does not compliment but rather overwhelms the lighter tulle, when pairing textiles should be an elementary aspect of the planning phase. Does no one take pride in what they produce?” With a tsk, she returned the lackluster garment to the wall peg. “Such a pity, as the overall concept shows promise.”

At the second store, she rejected the inventory of choices. When the third shop produced similar results, Ernest paused on the street corner.

“My dear, you may have to lower your expectations just a tad, as I cannot take you to the balls garbed in naught but your chemise and garters, although you would certainly attract attention.” Then he seized upon a perfect solution. “What say we tour the mercantile, and you can select your own materials?”

“What a wonderful notion, because then I could sew my own clothes, which I prefer.” In that moment, she bounced on her heels and favored him with a glowing smile, which cut through the chill and warmed him from top to toe. “And I should be inspired by the difference in inventory, as compared to Kent.”

“Would that please you?” How he ached to kiss her, to take her in his arms and make love to her, if only to capture a small taste of her joy, her fire, and her spirit, because he could not remember a time when he enjoyed such unshakable certainty in his future. “Because I do wish to please you.”

“My lord, you please me without even trying, and you always have, but you know that.” She was correct in her assertion, because no one believed in him like Henrietta. Clicking her heels, she saluted, as she often did when they were young. “Lead, and I shall follow you anywhere.”

That was their call to arms.

“I like the sound of that.” Just as when they were children, in her adoring gaze he believed he could topple corrupt governments, defeat a slew of villains, and succeed in any noble endeavor with which she charged him, because she made him believe in himself. She validated him. She made him understand that he possessed a measure of self-worth. That he was more than just a sand-filled bag to be pummeled by his father.

That was why he lied to her.

That was why he could never let her go.

With an exaggerated bow, he chuckled and ushered her to the textile merchant.

As she examined bolt upon bolt of fabric, voicing approval of some while rejecting others, he remained in her wake, admiring her ability to negotiate prices. Indeed, she evidenced the same confidence that drew him to her, when he was but a green lad.

In some respects, between the two of them, she remained the confident, stronger partner. No matter the predicament, Henrietta always portrayed fierce conviction in her actions, and he often thought of her, as he mimicked the same mettle during various business deals, throughout his adult life, which carried him to victory. Yet, Ernest kept the truth hidden deep in his soul.

He was a fake.

He was a fraud, because he remained very much a prisoner of his father’s abuse.

Upon her return, he realized he had been adrift as a ship without an anchor, after his father sent Hen to Kent. That was why he rarely ventured to Derbyshire. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded of the stablemaster’s daughter, and the agonizing torment driven by her absence threatened to destroy him, as in her absence he lost her, again and again.

So many times, he had been tempted to travel to Kent. To find his ladylove. To bring her back to Garring Manor, but one thing kept him at bay. The fear that she found happiness without him. If he wandered the earth like a lost and wounded animal, the knowledge that she persisted in some sense of contentment would have struck the final blow.

“My lord, you woolgather.” As he blinked, she nudged him in the ribs. “And in some respects, I do the same thing.”

“Yes, you do.” When he noted the pile of selections, he chuckled. In the end, it seemed he at last succeeded, although not as anticipated. “And it appears you do very well, my dear, given you have amassed a veritable mountain in materials.”

“If it is too much, I can put some back.” The glow in her cherubic cheeks ebbed ever so slightly, and he cursed his blasted hide. “Really, I do not need them all.”

“You will do no such thing.” As he caressed a swath of rich blue velvet, something occurred to him, and he peered at the shopkeeper. “We will take the entire lot, and I shall dispatch my footmen to retrieve the parcels. You may send the bill to Garring Manor, care of Lord Ernest Howe.”

“Of course, my lord.” The stodgy merchant dipped his chin.

“How does it feel to do that?” she asked, as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Do—what?” He waved to the footmen. “Collect my purchases and convey them to the coach.”

“Aye, sir.” The servants bowed in unison.

“What is it like to buy anything you want, whenever you want, without fear of going hungry or ending up in debtor’s prison?” She settled her palm in the crook of his elbow, and he steered toward the next destination. “Because I am accustomed to counting every shilling.”

“You will know, soon enough.” Four doors down, he paused, turned the knob, and handed her over the threshold. “Once we are married, you will never again quibble over a few pounds.”

“My lord, I do not want you for your money, and we just spent a vast deal more than a few pounds.” As her shimmer faded, he realized he insulted her. “I would be happy if we never journeyed to London, and I spent my days in naught but my simple morning dresses.”

“I apologize, Hen.” He snapped his fingers, and the jeweler came alert. “I should not have insinuated your reasons for accepting my proposal were anything less than honorable, and my motives for enacting my plan are simple. I mean to marry you, and I will have you by my side, thereafter. In order for that to happen, we must introduce you to society, where you will accompany me to the various engagements I am required to attend. That has always been my dream, and now that we are reunited I will have it. And I will let nothing and no one stand in my way. Perhaps, I can make it up to you with something that sparkles.”

“Ernest, where have you brought me and to what purpose?” She glanced left and then right, perused the displays of precious baubles, and flinched. “You cannot be serious.”

“Ah, but I am determined to spoil you, my dear. In some ways, I have lived my whole life for this moment, and I shall have it. Please, indulge me, Hen.” With his arm at her waist, he pushed her forward. “Good afternoon, Mr. Leighton.”

“Lord Ernest, as always, it is a pleasure to see you.” It struck Ernest, in that instant, that he bought several items from the purveyor of precious gems, over the years, for his ladybirds, and he did not want Henrietta confused as such, given the manner in which the jeweler gaped at her. “What can I show you? A bracelet, perhaps?”

“No.” Indeed, that particular accessory often accompanied a farewell, and Ernest opted for the unvarnished truth of the situation, as Mr. Leighton did not travel in the same social circles. “I would like to show Miss Graham an assortment of betrothal rings, as well as a strand of pearls.” The thrill of triumph almost moved him to tears, as he uttered the singular proclamation, because it brought him one step closer to the reality he coveted. “And if you have something to compliment a gown of blue velvet, I should like to see it.”

“Ernest, what are you doing?” At his side, Henrietta dug her fingernails into his coat sleeve, but he pretended not to notice.

“I have just the thing.” From a cabinet, Mr. Leighton drew a small box. Inside, on a bed of black satin, sat a variety of gold bands. “Let us begin with the foundation of the ring, and then we can pair it with a stone of your choice. If you will have a seat, Lord Ernest and Miss Graham.”

“Excellent.” Ernest held her chair until she was comfortably situated. Well, as comfortable as possible, under the circumstances. “Have you any preferences, Henrietta?”

“No, I do not.” As she gazed on the selection, she bit her bottom lip and furrowed her brow. In unveiled agitation, she shifted her weight. Then she toyed with the hem of her sleeve. “I would be happy with a piece of string.”

“I know you would.” Grasping her wrist, he kissed her gloved knuckles. “And that is why you will have a diamond and anything else your heart desires.”

“This understated but elegant band of polished gold would look wonderful on Miss Graham’s slender fingers.” Mr. Leighton held up the ring. “And you can pair it with a large, round-cut stone, if Miss Graham will remove her gloves, that I might take her size.”

After much hesitation, and in some instances downright refusal to answer, Hen finally agreed on a simple, unembellished band with a one-carat diamond. Then Ernest picked a charming strand of pearls, which he insisted she wear. When the jeweler asked them to wait, as he collected something special from the back of the store, she leaned toward Ernest.

“My lord, this is too much.” Toying with the necklace at her throat, she compressed her lips and then sighed. “How can I ever repay you for such extravagant gifts?”

“Sweetheart, it is my duty, as your husband, to dress and adorn you, thus there is naught to repay. But, if you insist, I am sure we can come to some agreement and a means of compensation that benefits us, both.” When she made to protest, he silenced her with an upraised hand. “I beg you, indulge me, please. I have waited my whole life to do this, I am enjoying myself, immensely, and I wish to savor our day.” After she nodded, he cupped her chin and winked. “Shall we continue?”

“All right.” Her expression did not inspire confidence. “But take pity on me, and do not buy anything too expensive, as I am already overwhelmed by your generosity.”

“Now then, as I was saying, I have just the item you require, Lord Ernest.” Mr. Leighton set a large box on the table and lifted the lid, revealing an exquisite parure of sapphires and diamonds nestled in a bed of pure white satin. “This is an exclusive design created by one of my master jewelers, and the construction is unique to my shop. I guarantee there is nothing else like it in England.”

Fashioned of gold, the baubles featured a gothic motif, with a combination of diamond scrollwork and leaf work and sapphire and pearl rosette-like mosaics comprising the necklace, bracelet, ring, two perfectly matched shoulder brooches, a larger single brooch, and earrings. Without doubt, the pièce de résistance was a tiara that boasted seven sapphire pinnacles, of which the middle one was the largest, and it impressed even Ernest in its splendor.

“Magnificent.” He caressed a glittering gem. “We will take it.”

“Ernest—no.” Henrietta yanked on his arm, but he paid no heed. “If the other things were too much, that collection is beyond the pale, and I will not wear it.”

“Yes, you will, and it will pale in comparison to your beauty.” To Mr. Leighton, Ernest said, “I will send my footman to fetch my purchases.”

“As always, it is a pleasure doing business with you, my lord.” The jeweler bowed. “And permit me to congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Ernest Cornelius Frederick Howe, no matter what you say, I will not accept such an expensive gift, however well intended.” In a familiar affectation that brought a smile to his face, because he could read her like a book, she thrust her chin and folded her arms, as he all but dragged her outside. “My lord, I have reached the end of my tether, and I wish to go home, because it is not appropriate for a woman of character, regardless of low birth, to accept such gifts, and I will not disgrace my father, as he taught me better.”

“What a noble argument you make. Did he also teach you to obey your future husband?” Yes, he purposely taunted his lady, because he reveled in her company. “Else you could have difficulty sitting, during our married life, because I rather fancy the thought of spanking your bare bottom, though I would never hurt you.”

“You would not dare.” Her brown eyes flared. “And the operative word, which you conveniently omit, is future. You are not yet my lord and master, and at this rate you may never be, thus I retain my right to protest. I am not a child.”

“Then do not behave as one.” Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, he winked. “If you are to play your part, you must dress the part, and I plan to outfit you in a wardrobe fit for a queen, because you are my queen.”

“Lord Ernest, this is an unexpected surprise.” It was then he noticed Mrs. Dudley, the biggest gossipmonger in Derbyshire, as she wrinkled her nose and leveled her gaze on Henrietta. “And who is this young lady availing herself of such an estimable escort and one of the most eligible bachelors in England?”

He cursed under his breath.

“Mrs. Dudley, what a pleasure.” With a nod of his head, he acknowledged the notorious busybody’s presence, and at his side Hen stiffened. “Allow me to introduce Miss Henrietta Graham. While we would love to chat, Miss Graham and I are due at Garring, and we are already late, so we bid you a fond farewell.”

With that, he drew Henrietta across the street and steered her toward the narrow medieval streets known as the Shambles and the Royal Oak pub.

“Are we in trouble?” When he spied fear in her usually charming countenance, he ducked into a cramped alleyway.

In the dim corridor, free of interlopers, he pushed her against a wall and did what he ached to do all afternoon. He kissed her.

Lush and ripe as a decadent strawberry, her lips posed a succulent temptation, and he deepened the connection, plunging his tongue into the warmth of her mouth, and she moaned. Fire scorched a path from their point of contact to the lethal part of his anatomy, which roared to life beneath his expensive, tailored garments, and never had Ernest felt more a man, as she shivered in his arms.

Teetering on the edge of some imaginary brink, he longed to take her, to hike her skirts, set her on her back, lift her heels, and lose himself in her most tantalizing flesh. Instead, he broke free and withdrew from his lady.

“Did I do something wrong?” She frowned.

“I wish you would not always presume the fault lies with you, when I am to blame for our inappropriate tryst, but I submit I am helpless to resist the lure you present, because I desire you.” Somehow, he just stopped himself from reengaging in behavior unbecoming a gentleman, as he offered his escort. “Now, let us share a meal and conversation, as we must strategize our next move, and I am sorely in need of a drink.”

“And that would be—what?” Again, she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and squeezed his arm. “I thought you planned to introduce me as a distant relation.”

“Indeed.” But the ton would not settle for something so pedestrian, and even the most plausible tale could prove unconvincing to the nosiest marriage-minded mama. “Yet, we must have care and create a new narrative, and one that omits any mention of your true history, if we are to succeed in our ruse.” If only he could muster sufficient confidence to quiet his nagging doubts and bolster his fortitude, because theirs was tricky business. “In a sense, you shall be reborn.”

~

In a sense, you shall be reborn.

As Henrietta sat in the back parlor, she gazed out the window and reflected on Ernest’s declaration, which left much unsettled in her mind, because everything relied on her ability to deny her heritage, in the face of society’s scrutiny. While he made it sound so simple to conceal the truth of her birth, she was not half so encouraged, because she could not escape the feeling that she was somehow betraying her father and her mother’s memory, and she knew not how to be anything more than a stablemaster’s daughter.

“May I join you?” In the doorway, Florence stood and smiled. “You appeared lost in thought, such that I was hesitant to disturb you.”

“Oh, Flo, you could never disturb me.” Henrietta leaped from the chaise and ran to embrace her childhood chum. Would that everyone in society could be so accommodating as her old friends. “And it is good to see you, as I need an ally right now.”

“So I gather, after Ernest’s impromptu shopping trip, which I suspect has left you out of sorts, given his lavish taste and generosity, where you are concerned.” Flo ushered Hen to the sofa, and they relaxed. “And Barrington is furious, because he believes his brother does not guard your reputation, and I gather he intends to have words with Ernest.” She clasped Hen’s hand, twined their fingers, and gave a gentle squeeze. “While I have no desire to personally witness the exchange, I would dearly love to be a fly on the wall, and I fear we may be in for a bumpy courtship.”

“But I do not wish to be the source of strife between them, as their relationship has always been a tad rocky.” And such rancor did not bode well for Henrietta’s fledgling union with Ernest, which already boasted plenty of complications, none of which inspired courage or conviction. “While I comprehend the need for secrecy, regarding my low background, I do not understand the urgency.” She peered at Florence. “Why can Ernest and I not simply elope? Why must we journey to London, and why must I enter society?”

“Because his social standing requires more of his bride. If you accept him, then you must also accept your place in his world.” Flo sighed and shook her head. “Never was that impressed upon me so greatly until Barrington fled England, and I was forced to confront the responsibilities of my own stature, as I was expected to wed, because it was the thing to do, regardless of my emotional attachments. Given the contract negotiated by my father, I was bound to the marquessate, despite my objections.”

“Which sounds so silly.” Even as Hen voiced the comment, she realized she would be expected to abide by the same ridiculous, unwritten rules, once she married Ernest. “I know little of etiquette, and I am to learn a new narrative, one that better suits the ton, but I am not sure that suits me.”

“I can help with the dictates that govern our set, and I sympathize with your situation, as my father tried to persuade me to wed Ernest, regardless of my love for Barrington, and I refused to do so. Thus I found myself isolated from those who might offer support.” Florence bowed her head and sniffed. “It was the darkest, loneliest time of my life, and the only thing that sustained me was the unshakeable belief that my man would return for me.”

“And he did.” Just as Henrietta returned for Ernest, and the similarities in their predicament was not lost on her. Did Ernest need Henrietta as Florence needed Barrington? “I can only hope I fare half so well as you.”

A knock at the door cut short the conversation, and Flo stiffened her spine. “Come.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady.” Crawford bowed. “But a Mrs. Dudley and a Miss Dudley just arrived to pay call.”

“Oh, no.” Hen flinched. “Ernest and I ran into them, in Chesterfield. What could they possible want?”

“It is all right. Let us not panic.” Florence stood and smoothed her skirts. “Crawford, we will take tea and scones, in the drawing room.”

“Again, I beg your pardon, my lady.” The butler shuffled his feet. “But Mrs. Dudley expressed a desire to visit Miss Graham.”

“No, I cannot do it.” Hen wrung her fingers, as her knees buckled. “It is too soon. I know not what to say or how to act. Send them away, as I am not prepared to receive callers.”

“We cannot do that without rousing suspicion, and Mrs. Dudley is the worst scandalmonger in England.” Florence hugged her belly and humphed. “If we do not accommodate her, she will have you infected with the plague, increasing with Ernest’s love child, and declare you the illegitimate daughter of Bonaparte, and the news would spread halfway across the county before the day is done.”

“She would not dare.” Angry in an instant, Hen clenched her fists. “She could not be so cruel, when I have done naught to her.”

“Trust me, she has done much worse to complete strangers and reveled in their destruction.” Lingering before a wall mirror, Florence assessed her appearance and then glanced at Henrietta, and a chill of unease shivered down her spine. “Let us face the enemy, as a united front, and you will follow my lead.”

“I do not have a good feeling about this.” Henrietta bit her lip and wanted to vomit. “In fact, I am terrified by the prospect.”

“Posh.” Florence ushered Hen into the hallway. “Actually, I think it could be quite fun, if we take the right tack.”

“I do not follow.” As they neared the drawing room, her ears rang, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Whatever happens, I beg you, do not leave me.”

“Chin up, dear friend.” Florence gave Henrietta a playful nudge. “Let us do unto the Dudleys as they would do unto us, and enjoy a bit of sport at their expense.”

“How I envy your spirit.” Henrietta gulped, as she doubted everything about the impending meeting. “I think I am going to swoon.”

“Smile, and you will do no such thing.” Florence winked and swept into the elegant chamber. “Agnes, darling, how wonderful to see you, and you brought your charming daughter Druscilla with you, thus I am doubly blessed, today. To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?”

Henrietta almost choked on Florence’s falsehood.

“Lady Ravenwood.” Wide-eyed and sputtering, Agnes curtseyed. When she noted Druscilla remained stock-still, the mother snapped her fingers, and the daughter made her less than graceful obeisance. “I am so sorry to disturb you, given your condition, and I thought your butler understood I called upon Miss Graham.”

“But Miss Graham is my honored guest.” As a queen assumed her throne, Florence eased to a large, overstuffed chair. “Would you snub me in my own home?”

“Of course not, and that was not my intent, Lady Ravenwood.” The gossipmonger blanched, and Henrietta barely stifled a snort of laughter. “Forgive me for the confusion, as I would never be so impudent as to offend a noble of your estimable stature, but I had thought to welcome Miss Graham to our little community, as I presume she has few acquaintances and could, therefore, benefit from new friendships. Especially from a colleague of discrimination and breeding.”

Ridiculous, insufferable woman.

“My, but you are the soul of charity.” Henrietta stifled a gurgle of laughter, as Crawford rolled the tea trolley into the room. Flo gazed at Hen, and she pondered her friend’s scheme. “Would you be so kind as to pour, Henrietta?”

“Of course.” Curious, she nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”

As she fulfilled her charge, she studied Florence, as the marchioness engaged the interlopers in casual conversation, with skill and ease Hen could only admire. When she passed out the refreshments, Mrs. Dudley arched a brow.

“Must confess I adore your gown, Miss Graham. It really is remarkable, and I should commission a new wardrobe for my daughter, prior to our annual trip to London, for the Season, you know.” Mrs. Dudley stared down her nose and assessed Hen from top to toe. “Did you purchase it at a boutique in London or Chesterfield, because I would love to know the designer?”

Unsure how to respond, Hen swallowed hard, because the dress was of her own making, and there was nothing like it in the immediate area. Then an idea came to mind. “I bought it at a little shop in Kent, but the store is no more, because the owner has since passed away.”

“How unfortunate.” The nosy woman snapped to attention. “So you hail from Kent?”

“Er—yes.” Was that not the narrative Ernest suggested? Henrietta bit her tongue and glanced at Flo for guidance.

“What a coincidence.” With a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin, Mrs. Dudley lowered her chin. “My mother was born in Kent, and her family still resides there. Perhaps you know the Blands of Tunbridge Wells?”

The world seemed to turn on its end.

“I do not believe so.” Fighting panic and the urge to flee, Henrietta perched in a Hepplewhite chair near the window and rested her hands in her lap, because she only had to fool the intruders long enough for Flo to enact her hastily sketched plan. “But Kent is a rather large county, and I am but one person.”

“What of your kin?” Druscilla, quiet until that instant, entered the fray, snatched a piece of shortbread from the tray, and shoved the confection none too delicately into her mouth. Then she mumbled, “Where were you born?”

Silence fell on the chamber.

In that instant, Florence sneezed.

“Oh, dear.” The marchioness pressed a palm to her cheek. “But I am chilled, and that is not good for a lady in my delicate condition.”

“Shall I fetch your shawl?” Henrietta inquired.

“You are too kind to me.” Florence smiled. “What would I do without you?”

“I am sure you would manage.” As she strolled into the foyer, Hen rolled her shoulders, hiked her skirts, and ran upstairs. On the second-floor, she located Flo’s lady’s maid. “Mead, Lady Ravenwood requires her shawl.”

“Right away, Miss Graham.” The servant curtseyed and rushed toward the master suite. A few minutes later, she returned. “Shall I take it to her?”

“I can do that.” Hen collected the knitted wrap. “Thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Again, the maid made her obedience, which still disconcerted Henrietta, because she was one of them.

Upon returning to the landing, she noted Florence standing in the foyer, as she held open the door for Mrs. Dudley and Druscilla, and Henrietta ducked into the hall. Peering past the edge of the wall, she hid in the shadows and waited until Florence ushered the Dudleys across the threshold.

At last, the marchioness waved and then turned around. “You can come out now, as they are gone.”

“Thank heavens.” Heaving a sigh of relief, Henrietta charged the stairs and descended to the first floor. “How did you get rid of them so quickly?”

“I told them I felt faint, which is not necessarily untrue, given their odious company and my condition. Had they dawdled much longer, I might have been ill, in truth, and I wager they would not have enjoyed that.” With a sly smile, Florence patted her belly. “But their encroachment is most unfortunate, because Mrs. Dudley views you as competition for her daughter, and I gather Ernest will not be pleased by the inauspicious development.”

“What inauspicious development?” As if on cue, Ernest strolled into the foyer, from the general direction of the study, with the marquess at the rear, and he immediately settled his gaze on Henrietta. “Did something happen?”

Before Hen could respond, Barrington pulled his wife into his arms and gave her a vast deal more than thorough kiss, which brought the burn of a blush to Henrietta’s cheeks, and she wished Ernest welcomed her in similar fashion. Not because she coveted the estimable nobleman, but because she longed for such reassurance from her beau. Could he not see the toll his plan exacted on her? Did he not understand that she died a little, every time she lied and denied her heritage?

“That awful Mrs. Dudley and her horrible daughter paid call, and they posed numerous questions about my background, for which I was unready to answer.” Hen bit her bottom lip, as she prepared to deliver the ill tidings. “In my nervous state, I admitted I came from Kent, and Mrs. Dudley informed me that she has relations in Tunbridge Wells. Do you realize what that means?”

“You did what?” With hands on hips, Ernest shifted his weight, and she gulped. “I warned you were not to share any details regarding your personal history until we devised a proper story, because our narratives must match. Indeed, we must be as one, else our endeavor is doomed to failure. Would you undermine our efforts from the start? Really, Hen, how could you be so careless?”

“Yes, I know, and I apologize, but it was not my fault.” To her chagrin, tears formed, because she had never been the target of Ernest’s indignation, and she shuffled her slippered feet, in discomfit. “Can you not understand that I was anxious, and I knew not how to answer the woman without rousing suspicion?”

“So instead, you revealed the truth, which could threaten our entire enterprise and future, because Mrs. Dudley has ties to Tunbridge Wells.” He sighed in unveiled frustration, and Henrietta wanted to crawl back to her father’s cottage, but that was not an option for her. Given the disagreement, she had no choice or escape. “Do you want us to fail? Are you not in favor of our scheme and what we hope to achieve?”

“It could not be helped.” She splayed her arms in entreaty. Could he not see her distress? “Please, Ernest, I am sorry.” To her shock and embarrassment, he dismissed her without so much as a dip of his chin and skipped upstairs. Stock-still, and her mouth agape, she stared at Barrington and Florence. “Truly, I meant no harm, but I know not how to be something I am not.”

“It is all right, Hen, as it is not your fault my sibling seems to have forgotten his manners.” Barrington gently set aside his bride and frowned. “But I believe it is past due for me to have a word with him, in your defense.” He claimed another kiss from Florence. “Please, excuse me, darling, because it appears I must beat some sense into my little brother.”

“Give him an extra swift kick in the arse, for compassion.” Flo giggled, but she sobered when she met Henrietta’s gaze. “In the meantime, what say you and I return to the drawing room and enjoy our refreshments?”

“I am not sure I can do this. As of this moment, I am not even sure we can succeed.” Adrift on a sea of indecision, Henrietta grasped Florence’s hand and shook her head. “I love Ernest, and I always have, but I am not sure I can give him what he wants, as I know not how to be anything other than what I am—a stablemaster’s daughter.”