to think of me in the light of an older brother,” the duke began.
Henrietta thought, there was that hated phrase “brother”! She remembered he had used the term during their waltz at the Denbys’ while reading her a lecture on the conventions.
Winterton continued, “It is not to be expected that a young girl from the country would recognize when a gentleman’s intentions are not honorable. While I find it distasteful to bring the matter up once again, I feel it my duty to inform you my suspicions about Lord Baddick have proven correct. Do not encourage him.”
Henrietta’s eyes blazed and her fingers clutched the sticks of her fan. “You amaze me, your grace! Let me be sure I understand this. You would stand in the place of a brother to me. And as such, you do not wish me to continue enjoying the company of a handsome, kind gentleman? What right have you to meddle in my affairs?”
“He is not a ‘kind gentleman,’ “the duke said between his teeth, ignoring her question. “His intentions towards you are the very worst. Someone must protect the innocent from harm, and as Lady Fuddlesby does not appear up to the task—”
“Do not dare to insult my aunt!” Henrietta interrupted him, her fingers snapping the sticks of her fan. She felt her feelings at that moment could only be relieved by slapping his proud face. She controlled herself with an effort.
The duke felt like shaking her. “Miss Lanford, you are behaving like the veriest schoolgirl! You show a decided lack of judgment where Lord Baddick is concerned. I suggest you pattern yourself after one of the more pretty-behaved misses making their come-out, such as Lady Clorinda.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Henrietta replied obligingly. She stood up in front of him, grasped the bodice of her dress, and pulled it down as low as it would go without exposing her nipples. She thrust her bosom forward and gave him a court curtsy.
Her mocking expression met his astonished face before she turned and walked away from him, leaving the duke to rise to his feet in a mixture of shock, fury, and some other emotion he could not give name to.
“Minx!” the Duke of Winterton shouted after her in the suddenly quiet room.
Lord Baddick’s face broke out in a wolfish grin.
Colonel Colchester supported a swooning Lady Fuddlesby.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, the patroness of Almack’s Lady Fuddlesby most feared, issued an edict to withdraw Miss Lanford’s vouchers at once.
Chapter Six
Silence reigned in the carriage in which Lady Fuddlesby and Henrietta rode home from Almack’s. The older woman was in shock and held a vinaigrette under her nose to prevent herself from collapsing.
Henrietta’s anger had cooled, and she felt a heavy sense of remorse. The minute the footman helped her down from the carriage, she picked up her skirts and hurried inside the town house, rushing up the stairs to her bedchamber. She struggled to hold back tears.
A startled Knight, coming into the hallway from the kitchens, ran after her.
Henrietta reached the privacy of her room gratefully. A fire had been lit, casting the room in a soft glow of light, so she did not bother with a candle.
Determined not to hurl herself across the bed and burst into tears dramatically, and not wishing for Felice’s company, she busied herself with changing into her nightrail.
Laying the beautiful silver gown across the back of a chair, she bathed her face and arms in water left by a thoughtful housemaid. Keeping her mind firmly on the simple tasks, she unpinned her hair. After carefully laying the tiara aside, she climbed into bed.
Pulling the covers up to her chin, she settled onto her side. Only then did the tears quietly begin to fall.
She did not see the moving hump under the bedclothes and so jumped slightly when a masked feline face suddenly appeared from under the sheets in front of her face.
“Knight!” she cried, reaching out to hug his head close. He bore this indignity
Henrietta thought, there was that hated phrase “brother”! She remembered he had used the term during their waltz at the Denbys’ while reading her a lecture on the conventions.
Winterton continued, “It is not to be expected that a young girl from the country would recognize when a gentleman’s intentions are not honorable. While I find it distasteful to bring the matter up once again, I feel it my duty to inform you my suspicions about Lord Baddick have proven correct. Do not encourage him.”
Henrietta’s eyes blazed and her fingers clutched the sticks of her fan. “You amaze me, your grace! Let me be sure I understand this. You would stand in the place of a brother to me. And as such, you do not wish me to continue enjoying the company of a handsome, kind gentleman? What right have you to meddle in my affairs?”
“He is not a ‘kind gentleman,’ “the duke said between his teeth, ignoring her question. “His intentions towards you are the very worst. Someone must protect the innocent from harm, and as Lady Fuddlesby does not appear up to the task—”
“Do not dare to insult my aunt!” Henrietta interrupted him, her fingers snapping the sticks of her fan. She felt her feelings at that moment could only be relieved by slapping his proud face. She controlled herself with an effort.
The duke felt like shaking her. “Miss Lanford, you are behaving like the veriest schoolgirl! You show a decided lack of judgment where Lord Baddick is concerned. I suggest you pattern yourself after one of the more pretty-behaved misses making their come-out, such as Lady Clorinda.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Henrietta replied obligingly. She stood up in front of him, grasped the bodice of her dress, and pulled it down as low as it would go without exposing her nipples. She thrust her bosom forward and gave him a court curtsy.
Her mocking expression met his astonished face before she turned and walked away from him, leaving the duke to rise to his feet in a mixture of shock, fury, and some other emotion he could not give name to.
“Minx!” the Duke of Winterton shouted after her in the suddenly quiet room.
Lord Baddick’s face broke out in a wolfish grin.
Colonel Colchester supported a swooning Lady Fuddlesby.
Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, the patroness of Almack’s Lady Fuddlesby most feared, issued an edict to withdraw Miss Lanford’s vouchers at once.
Chapter Six
Silence reigned in the carriage in which Lady Fuddlesby and Henrietta rode home from Almack’s. The older woman was in shock and held a vinaigrette under her nose to prevent herself from collapsing.
Henrietta’s anger had cooled, and she felt a heavy sense of remorse. The minute the footman helped her down from the carriage, she picked up her skirts and hurried inside the town house, rushing up the stairs to her bedchamber. She struggled to hold back tears.
A startled Knight, coming into the hallway from the kitchens, ran after her.
Henrietta reached the privacy of her room gratefully. A fire had been lit, casting the room in a soft glow of light, so she did not bother with a candle.
Determined not to hurl herself across the bed and burst into tears dramatically, and not wishing for Felice’s company, she busied herself with changing into her nightrail.
Laying the beautiful silver gown across the back of a chair, she bathed her face and arms in water left by a thoughtful housemaid. Keeping her mind firmly on the simple tasks, she unpinned her hair. After carefully laying the tiara aside, she climbed into bed.
Pulling the covers up to her chin, she settled onto her side. Only then did the tears quietly begin to fall.
She did not see the moving hump under the bedclothes and so jumped slightly when a masked feline face suddenly appeared from under the sheets in front of her face.
“Knight!” she cried, reaching out to hug his head close. He bore this indignity
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