fact, if she could but learn to keep a rein on her temper, she could very easily become a hit, without him having to make people think she had some hidden fascination which so far only he had discerned.
‘Why, then, have I not heard of this riot?’ It was time he made some contribution to the conversation. ‘Because if the thing escalated into a public brawl, involving the male servants of several houses and a pack of … yahoos …’
‘Oh, it didn’t come to that. Fortunately Mr Crimmer’s foot slipped on a cobble and he went down with his opponent on top of him. He was stunned for a few moments. Or he might just have been winded, I suppose, because … well, let us say that his opponent is no lightweight.’ She sparkled up at him.
He laughed outright at the picture she had just painted. And it struck him how very rarely he laughed, genuinely laughed, with amusement. Very few people shared his sense of humour. Or suspected he even had one. Miss Gibson, he realised, had looked right past the outer shell, which was all most people wanted to see, and reached right to the man he … not the man he was, or even the man he wanted to be, but perhaps the man he might have been had things been different.
‘But anyway, before he recovered the power of speech, the yahoo claimed it as a victory and went away, taking his friends with him.’
‘In short,’ he said, inspecting his fingertips with an air of feigned innocence, ‘far from exacting any kind of revenge, I have furnished you with no end of entertainment.’
‘You … I …’ She shut her mouth with a snap. ‘I absolutely refuse to allow you to goad me into losing my temper with you again,’ she said resolutely. ‘Because you did, at least, warn me what it would be like. And it has all ended rather well for Mildred and Mr Crimmer, at least.’
‘Good God,’ he said with disgust. ‘Are you really the kind of person who detects silver linings within even the darkest clouds? Not only have you completely outdated notions of morality, but it now appears that you also suffer from an incurable case of optimism.’
‘Oh, well,’ she said airily, ‘if you do not wish to hear the end of the tale, then naturally, I shall not bore you any longer.’ She made as if to leave the alcove.
‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He seized her arm, just above the elbow, and turned her back. ‘You know full well that there is much more I want to hear. Oh, not about this Crimmer person, or your pretty little hen-witted cousin Mildred. It is obvious that once he leapt to her defence she has now cast him in the role of hero and his suit will prosper. No, what interests me is how you managed to wring social victory from what might have so easily been a crushing defeat.’
She pretended not to understand him.
‘I want to know,’ he persisted, ‘how you got an invitation to this house, of all houses. Lord Danbury has a reputation for being very exclusive. Just being seen here will do your credit no end of good.’
‘Well, it all stems from that incident, you know. Because after that, my aunt became far more discerning about who she would permit into her drawing room. Nobody gets in just because they have a title, any more. A visitor has to have some valid reason, apart from vulgar curiosity, before Warnes will allow them past the hall. Which meant that those wishing to have their curiosity satisfied had to send their sisters, or cousins, or aunts to ferret out what information they could.’
‘And yet you still did not apply to me for aid? My God, once the tabbies get their claws into you, it can be far worse than anything a boorish young fop can achieve.’
‘I did not think I needed to apply to you for aid. I thought you had already sent it.’ She gave him a speculative look. She couldn’t quite understand why she had hoped that in spite of the way they’d parted, the visit from his godmother had been a sign that he was still watching out for her, from afar. ‘I … I thought you might have spoken to Lady Dalrymple and asked her to intercede.’
‘Indeed?’
Henrietta’s heart sank a little. She had forgotten the vast social gulf that existed between them for a few moments, but now he had erected the barriers again, with that one lazily drawled word, that repressive lift to one eyebrow.
‘Well, yes. I am sorry, it is just that she is your godmother and she was there at Miss Twining’s ball …’
‘And she is as eaten up with curiosity as any of them. Perhaps more, given her relationship to me.’
‘Well, however it came about, she did a great deal of good. Because she declared, straight off, that she’d come to scotch the rumour that I was a vulgar nonentity, thrusting my way in where I didn’t belong.’
‘I can almost hear her saying it.’
Henrietta giggled. ‘I should think you might have done. She has a very carrying voice, does she not? Nobody who was in the drawing room the afternoon she called round could have failed to hear a single word of her conversation with me about my maternal grandmother and how they were such bosom bows, and how appalled she was not to have seen me at any of the kind of gatherings where Lavinia’s granddaughter ought to have been invited.’
He smiled with satisfaction. His godmother was one of those persons who knew everyone and everyone’s antecedents to at least three generations, and thoroughly enjoyed showing off the extent of her knowledge.
‘Did she restrict herself to merely mentioning your maternal antecedents?’
Henrietta shook her head.
‘My father’s connection to the Duke of Harrowgate came up very early on. Nor did she leave out my Uncle Ledbetter’s lineage, which she followed by lecturing us all, at length, about the difference between the middle classes, who may truly be called vulgar mushrooms who push themselves up from nowhere, and younger sons of good families who are obliged to take up a profession. And since then, the invitations to, well, to be frank, rather tonnish events such as this have begun to trickle in.’
It had only been after Lady Dalrymple’s visit that Julia Twining had called again, which was what had made her take both her repeated protestations of friendship, and her concern about her health, with a large pinch of salt.
‘I am only surprised,’ he sneered, ‘that nobody has yet started a rumour that you and I are on the verge of matrimony. Given that her appearance in your drawing room will have dealt the fatal blow to speculation that any kind of scandal could be brewing between us.’
‘Oh, dear, would people really …?’ She whisked her fan shut and tapped it absentmindedly in the palm of her other hand. Poor Lord Deben must be regretting his association with her even more. The last thing he wanted was to have his name connected to any innocent, eligible female. He disliked the entire notion of marriage so much that he’d told her he would rather shoot himself in the leg than enter into one.
‘No, no, I’m quite sure nobody suspects anything of that nature,’ she said, a rather worried frown puckering her brow. ‘A-at least …’ She glanced about the room, looking rather alarmed. ‘Perhaps we ought not to be standing apart in this corner, in this … intimate fashion.’
It felt as though she had forcibly thrust him into a stuffy room and slammed the door on him, while he’d been enjoying taking a walk on a particularly fresh and bracing October day.
‘Do you dislike the notion so very much?’
His
