and he wouldn't hear any vicious whispers. Henry lifted her chin a notch. On the off chance that none of her nightmares came true, she might as well act as if she hadn't a worry in the world.
"I'm sorry, Dunford." She shot him a cheeky grin. Her cheeky grin. He had often commented he'd never seen another like it. She hoped it would assure him she was no longer distraught. "My mind has been wandering, I'm afraid."
"And where has it up and wandered to?" His eyes flashed devilishly.
Dear God, why was he always so nice? It would make it that much more painful when he dropped her. Don't think about that, she yelled at herself. It might not happen. She willed the pain out of her eyes and shrugged carelessly. "Stannage Park, where else?"
"And what has you so worried, minx? Afraid Porkus isn't going to deliver her piglets safely?"
"Porkus is a male, silly."
He clutched his heart in mock terror. "Then there is all the more reason to worry. This could be a most difficult birth."
Despite herself, Henry smiled. "You are incorrigible."
"Being incorrigible yourself, you must have intended that as a compliment."
"I suspect you will take it as a compliment no matter what I say." She tried to make her tone a grumble, but her lips twitched.
He took her arm and began to walk. "You do know how to slay a man, Henry."
She looked over at him dubiously. Never had she counted among her achievements the ability to skillfully manipulate the opposite sex. Until Dunford, she had never been able to get one of them to think of her as a normal woman.
If he noticed her expression, he did not comment on it. They walked on, Dunford asking questions about every storefront they passed. He paused in front of a small eatery. "Are you hungry, Henry? Is this a good tea shop?"
"I've never been."
"No?" He looked surprised. In the twelve years she'd lived in Cornwall, she'd never stopped for tea and cakes? "What about when Viola was alive?"
"Viola didn't like Truro. She always said there was too much of the ton here."
"There is some truth in that," he agreed, suddenly turning to face a shop window to avoid being recognized by an acquaintance across the street. Nothing was less appealing at the moment than having to make polite conversation. He had no wish to get sidetracked from his goal. After all, he had dragged Henry out here for a reason.
Henry looked at the window display in surprise. "I had no idea you were interested in lace."
He focused his eyes and realized that he appeared to be avidly examining the wares of a shop that seemed to deal in nothing but lace. "Yes, well, there are a number of things you don't know about me," he murmured, hoping that would be the end of that.
Henry wasn't terribly encouraged by the fact that he was a connoisseur of lace. He probably draped it on all his mistresses. And she had no doubt that he'd had a few. Who was "sweetie," after all? She could understand it, she supposed. The man was twenty-nine years old. One couldn't expect he'd lived the life of a monk. And he was mind-numbingly handsome. He would certainly have had his pick of women.
She sighed dejectedly, suddenly eager to be away from the lace shop.
They passed by a milliner, a bookshop, and a greengrocer, then Dunford suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, look, Henry. A dress shop. Just what I need."
She crinkled her brow in confusion. "I think they make only ladies' clothing here, Dunford."
"Excellent." He yanked on her arm and dragged her to the doorway. "I need to buy a gift for my sister."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
He shrugged. "I believe I said there were a great many things you do not know about me?"
She shot him a waspish look. "I'll wait outside, then. I detest dress shops."
He had no doubt about that. "But I'll need your help, Henry. You're just about her size."
"If I'm not exactly her size, nothing will fit properly." She took a step backward.
He took her arm, opened the door, and propelled her through it. "It's a risk I'm willing to
"I'm sorry, Dunford." She shot him a cheeky grin. Her cheeky grin. He had often commented he'd never seen another like it. She hoped it would assure him she was no longer distraught. "My mind has been wandering, I'm afraid."
"And where has it up and wandered to?" His eyes flashed devilishly.
Dear God, why was he always so nice? It would make it that much more painful when he dropped her. Don't think about that, she yelled at herself. It might not happen. She willed the pain out of her eyes and shrugged carelessly. "Stannage Park, where else?"
"And what has you so worried, minx? Afraid Porkus isn't going to deliver her piglets safely?"
"Porkus is a male, silly."
He clutched his heart in mock terror. "Then there is all the more reason to worry. This could be a most difficult birth."
Despite herself, Henry smiled. "You are incorrigible."
"Being incorrigible yourself, you must have intended that as a compliment."
"I suspect you will take it as a compliment no matter what I say." She tried to make her tone a grumble, but her lips twitched.
He took her arm and began to walk. "You do know how to slay a man, Henry."
She looked over at him dubiously. Never had she counted among her achievements the ability to skillfully manipulate the opposite sex. Until Dunford, she had never been able to get one of them to think of her as a normal woman.
If he noticed her expression, he did not comment on it. They walked on, Dunford asking questions about every storefront they passed. He paused in front of a small eatery. "Are you hungry, Henry? Is this a good tea shop?"
"I've never been."
"No?" He looked surprised. In the twelve years she'd lived in Cornwall, she'd never stopped for tea and cakes? "What about when Viola was alive?"
"Viola didn't like Truro. She always said there was too much of the ton here."
"There is some truth in that," he agreed, suddenly turning to face a shop window to avoid being recognized by an acquaintance across the street. Nothing was less appealing at the moment than having to make polite conversation. He had no wish to get sidetracked from his goal. After all, he had dragged Henry out here for a reason.
Henry looked at the window display in surprise. "I had no idea you were interested in lace."
He focused his eyes and realized that he appeared to be avidly examining the wares of a shop that seemed to deal in nothing but lace. "Yes, well, there are a number of things you don't know about me," he murmured, hoping that would be the end of that.
Henry wasn't terribly encouraged by the fact that he was a connoisseur of lace. He probably draped it on all his mistresses. And she had no doubt that he'd had a few. Who was "sweetie," after all? She could understand it, she supposed. The man was twenty-nine years old. One couldn't expect he'd lived the life of a monk. And he was mind-numbingly handsome. He would certainly have had his pick of women.
She sighed dejectedly, suddenly eager to be away from the lace shop.
They passed by a milliner, a bookshop, and a greengrocer, then Dunford suddenly exclaimed, "Ah, look, Henry. A dress shop. Just what I need."
She crinkled her brow in confusion. "I think they make only ladies' clothing here, Dunford."
"Excellent." He yanked on her arm and dragged her to the doorway. "I need to buy a gift for my sister."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
He shrugged. "I believe I said there were a great many things you do not know about me?"
She shot him a waspish look. "I'll wait outside, then. I detest dress shops."
He had no doubt about that. "But I'll need your help, Henry. You're just about her size."
"If I'm not exactly her size, nothing will fit properly." She took a step backward.
He took her arm, opened the door, and propelled her through it. "It's a risk I'm willing to
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