Henry touched her tingling lips, too innocent to understand his desire was being held in check by a very thin thread. Why had he moved so far away? She knew he was right to stop the kiss. She knew she ought to thank him for it, but couldn’t he have remained by her side and at least held her hand? “That certainly didn’t mean anything,” she tried to joke, her voice breaking on the words.
“For your sake, it had better not.”
What did that mean? Henry cursed herself for not having the courage to ask. “I–I must look a mess,” she said instead, her voice sounding very hollow to her ears.
“Your hair is fine,” he said flatly. “I was careful not to muss it.”
That he could have approached their kiss with such cold, clinical detachment was like a bucket of icy water washing over her. “No, of course not. You wouldn’t want to ruin me on my first night out.”
On the contrary, he thought wryly, he wanted very much to ruin her. To ruin her over and over and over. He wanted to laugh at the poetic justice of it all. After a couple of years of chasing after women and then a decade of having them chase after him, he’d finally been brought down by a slip of a girl, fresh out of Cornwall, whom he was honor-bound to protect. Good Lord, as her guardian it was practically his sacred duty to keep her pure and chaste for her future husband, whom, incidentally, he was supposed to help her find and choose. He shook his head, as if trying to give himself a stern reminder that this incident was not to be repeated.
Henry saw him shake his head and thought he was replying to her desperate remark about not wanting to ruin her, and cold humiliation prompted her to say, “No, I mustn’t do anything to damage my reputation. I might not catch a husband then, and that is the objective here, isn’t it?” She glanced over at Dunford. He was pointedly not looking at her, and his jaw was clenched so tightly, she thought his teeth would surely shatter. So he was upset—good! Upset didn’t even come close to what she was feeling. She gave a frantic laugh and then added, “I know you say I may return to Cornwall if I wish, but we both know that is a sham now, don’t we?’
Dunford turned, but she didn’t give him the chance to speak.
“A season,” she was saying, her voice rising in pitch, “has only one purpose, and that is to get the lady in question married off and thus off of one’s hands. In this case, I suppose, the hands in question would appear to be yours, although you don’t seem to be doing such a very good job of getting me off of them.”
“Henry, be quiet,” he ordered.
“Oh, certainly, my lord. I’ll be quiet. A perfectly prim and proper young miss. I wouldn’t want to be anything other than the ideal debutante. Heaven forbid I ruin my chances for a good match. Why, I might even catch a viscount.”
“If you are lucky,” he bit out.
Henry felt as if she’d been slapped. Oh, she knew his primary goal was to marry her off, but it still hurt so much to hear him say it. “Per-perhaps I won’t marry,” she said, trying for a defiant tone but not quite succeeding. “I don’t have to, you know.”
“I would hope that you do not purposefully sabotage your chances for finding a husband just to spite me.”
She stiffened. “Don’t hold yourself in such high esteem, Dunford. I have more important things to think about than spiting you.”
“How fortunate for me,” he drawled.
“You are hateful,” she spat out. “Hateful and . . . and . . . and hateful!”
“Such a vocabulary.”
Henry’s cheeks flushed red with shame and fury. “You’re a cruel man, Dunford. A monster! I don’t even know why you kissed me. Did I do something to make you hate me? Did you want to punish me?”
No, his tortured mind responded, he wanted to punish himself.
He let out a ragged sigh and said, “I don’t hate you, Henry.”
But you don’t love me either, she wanted to cry out. You don’t love me, and it hurts so much. Was she so awful? Was there something wrong with her? Something that compelled him to degrade her by kissing her so thoroughly yet for no reason other than—God, she couldn’t think of any reason. It certainly wasn’t the same kind of passion she’d been feeling. He’d been so cold and detached when he was talking about her hair.
She gasped, suddenly realizing to her complete mortification that tears were welling up in her eyes. She hastily turned her face and wiped them away, not caring that the salty drops were probably staining the fine kid of her gloves.
“Oh, God, Hen,” Dunford said, compassion in his voice. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” she burst out. “Don’t cry? You’re a fine one to ask that of me!” She crossed her arms mutinously and used every ounce of her iron will to dry up every tear in her body. After a minute or so she actually felt she was returning to at least some semblance of normality.
And just in time, too, because the carriage rolled to a halt, and Dunford said flatly, “We’re here.”
Henry wanted nothing more than to just go home.
All the way back to Cornwall.
Chapter 14
Henry held her head high as Dunford helped her down from the carriage. It nearly broke her heart when his hand touched hers, but she was learning how to keep her emotions off her face. If Dunford happened to glance her way, all he would see was a perfectly composed visage, with no sign of grief or anger—but with no sign of happiness either.
They had just alighted when the Blackwoods’ carriage arrived behind them. Henry watched as John helped Belle down. Belle immediately rushed to her side, not bothering to wait while Alex disembarked. “What’s wrong?” she exclaimed, noting Henry’s uncharacteristically tense face.
“Nothing,” Henry lied.
But Belle heard the hollowness in her voice. “Obviously something is wrong.”
“It’s nothing, really. I’m just nervous, that’s all.”
Belle rather doubted Henry could have grown quite that nervous during the short carriage ride. She shot a withering glare in Dunford’s direction. He immediately turned away and struck up a conversation with John and Alex.
“What did he do to you?” Belle whispered angrily.
“Nothing!”
“If that is true,” Belle said as she gave her a look indicating she didn’t for a second believe it was, “then you still had best compose yourself immediately before we go in.”
“I am composed,” Henry protested. “I don’t think I have ever been quite this composed in my life.”
“Then un-compose yourself.” Belle took Henry’s hands in an urgent embrace. “Henry, I’ve never seen your eyes look so dead. I’m sorry to have to say it that way, but it’s the truth. There is nothing to fear. Everyone will love you. Just go in there and be yourself.” She paused. “Except for the cursing.”
A reluctant smile quivered on Henry’s lips.
“And leave off talk of farming,” Belle added quickly. “Especially that bit about the pig.”
Henry could feel the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Oh, Belle, I do love you. You have been such a good friend.”
“You make it very easy,” Belle returned, giving her hands an affectionate squeeze. “Are you ready? Good. Dunford and Alex are going to escort you in together. That should ensure you make a big splash. Before Alex married, they were the two most eligible gentlemen in the country.”
“But Dunford didn’t even have a title.”
“It didn’t matter. The ladies wanted him anyway.”
Henry understood all too well why. But he didn’t want her. At least not in any permanent way. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her as she glanced at him. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to prove to herself that she was worthy of love, even if Dunford did not agree. Her chin moved up a notch, and a dazzling smile crossed her face. “I’m ready, Belle. I am going to have a lovely time.”
Belle looked slightly taken aback by Henry’s sudde
n vehemence. “Let’s be on our way then. Dunford! Alex! John! We’re ready to go in.”
The three gentlemen reluctantly broke off their conversation, and Henry found herself flanked by Dunford and Alex. She felt terribly small; both men were a good inch over six feet and rather broad through the shoulders. She knew she was going to be the envy of every lady in the ballroom; she hadn’t met too many men of the ton, but surely most of them lacked the sheer virility of the three men in her party.
They made their way inside and waited in line for the butler to announce them. Without even realizing it, Henry began to move closer and closer to Alex’s side, pulling away from Dunford. Finally Alex leaned down and whispered, “Are you all right, Henry? It’s almost our turn.”
Henry turned and flashed him the same stunning smile she’d just used on Belle. “I am perfect, your grace. Perfect. I am going to slay London. I shall have the ton at my feet.”
Dunford heard her words and stiffened, pulling her back toward him. “Watch what you do, Henry,” he whispered cuttingly. “It wouldn’t do for you to make your entrance draped over Ashbourne. It’s common knowledge he’s devoted to his wife.”
“Don’t worry,” she returned with an insincere grin. “I won’t embarrass you. And I promise to be off your hands as soon as possible. I shall endeavor to have dozens of marriage proposals. By next week if I can.”
Alex had an idea what was going on, and his lips twitched. He was not so honorable that he was not enjoying Dunford’s distress.
“Lord and Lady Blackwood!” the butler boomed.
Henry’s breath caught in her throat. They were next.
Alex nudged her playfully and whispered, “Smile.”
“His grace, the Duke of Ashbourne! Lord Stannage! Miss Henrietta Barrett!”
A hush fell over the crowd. Henry was not so vain and deluded as to think the ton had lost their voices over her incomparable beauty, but she did know that they were all dying to get a look at the lady who’d somehow managed to make her debut on the arms of two of the most desirable men in Britain.
The five friends then made their way over to Caroline, further ensuring Henry’s success by proclaiming to the world that the influential Countess of Worth was sponsoring her.
Within minutes Henry was surrounded by young men and women, all eager to make her acquaintance. The men were curious—who was this unknown female and how had she managed to snare the attention of both Dunford and Ashbourne? (The on-dit that she was Dunford’s legal ward had yet to circulate.) The women were even more curious—for exactly the same reason.
Henry laughed and flirted, teased and sparkled. By sheer force of will she managed to push Dunford from her mind. She pretended each man she met was Alex or John, and each woman was Belle or Caroline. This mental ruse allowed her to relax and be herself—and once she did that, people warmed to her instantly.
“She is a breath of fresh air,” Lady Jersey declared, not caring in the least that she was being terribly trite.
Dunford overheard this comment and tried to be proud of his ward, but he couldn’t manage it over the irritating possessiveness he felt every time some young fop kissed her hand. And that was nothing compared to the searing spurts of jealousy that rocked through him every time she smiled at one of the many older, more experienced men who also flocked to her side.
Caroline was just now introducing her to the Earl of Billington, a man he usually liked and respected. Damn it, that was the same cheeky smile she usually gave him. Dunford made a mental note not to sell Billington the prized Arabian he’d been nosing after all spring.
“I see your ward has made quite a killing.”
Dunford turned his head to see Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott. “Lady Wolcott,” he said, lazily inclining his head.
“She’s quite a success.”
“Yes, she is.”
“You must be proud.”
He managed a curt nod.
“I must say, I wouldn’t have predicted it. Not that she isn’t attractive,” Lady Wolcott hastened to add. “But she is not in the usual style.”
Dunford fixed a deadly stare upon her. “In looks or in personality?”
Sarah-Jane was either exceedingly foolish or she just didn’t notice the furious gleam in his eyes. “Both, I suppose. She is rather forward, don’t you think?”
“No,” he bit off, “I don’t.”
“Oh.” The corners of her lips turned up ever-so-slightly. “Well, I’m sure everyone will realize that soon.” She offered him a pouty smile and then moved on.
Dunford swiveled his head to regard Henry once more. Was she being too forward? She did have a rather vibrant laugh. He’d always taken it as a sign of a happy and delightful person, but a different sort of man might see it as an invitation. He moved over to Alex’s side, where he could keep a better eye on her.
Henry, meanwhile, had managed to convince herself that she was having a splendid time. Everyone seemed to think she was terribly attractive and witty, and to a woman who had spent most of her life without friends, this was a heady combination, indeed. The Earl of Billington was paying her particular attention, and she could tell from the stares she was receiving that he was not usually given to paying court to young debutantes. Henry found him rather attractive and personable and began to think that if there were more men like him, she just might be able to find someone with whom she could be happy. Perhaps even the earl. He seemed intelligent, and although his hair was reddish brown, his warm brown eyes reminded her of Dunford’s.
No, Henry thought, that should not be a point in the earl’s favor.
Then again, she decided in the spirit of fairness, it shouldn’t necessarily be a point against him either.
“And do you ride, Miss Barrett?” the earl was saying.
“Of course,” Henry replied. “I grew up on a farm, after all.”
Belle coughed.
“Really? I had no idea.”
“In Cornwall.” Henry decided to spare Belle the agony. “But you do not want to hear about my farm. There must be thousands just like it. Do you ride?” She asked that last question with a teasing look in her eye; it was a given that all gentlemen rode.
Billington chuckled. “May I have the pleasure of escorting you for a ride in Hyde Park sometime soon?”
“Oh, but I couldn’t do that.”
“I’m crushed, Miss Barrett.”
“I don’t even know your name,” Henry continued, her smile lighting up her face. “I couldn’t possibly make an appointment to ride with a man I know only as ‘the earl.’ It’s terribly daunting, you know, being merely a ‘miss’ myself. I’ll be quaking the entire time for fear I’ll offend you.”
This time Billington laughed loudly. He gave her a smart bow. “Charles Wycombe, madam, at your service.”
“I should love to go for a ride with you, Lord Billington.”
“Do you mean to tell me I went to the trouble of introducing myself to you, and you still mean to call me ‘Lord Billington’?”
Henry cocked her head to the side. “I really don’t know you very well, Lord Billington. It would be dreadfully improper of me to call you Charles, don’t you think?”
“No,” he said with a lazy smile, “I don’t.”
A warm feeling flushed through her, almost, but not quite, identical to what she felt when Dunford smiled at her. Henry decided she liked this feeling even better. There was still that lovely sensation of being wanted, cared for, possibly loved, but with Billington she managed to retain some measure of control. When Dunford chose to bestow one of his grins on her, it was like going over a waterfall.
She could sense him near her, and she glanced to her left. He was there, just as she had known he would be, and he gave her a mocking nod. For one moment Henry’s entire body reacted, and she forgot how to breathe. Then her mind retook control, and she turned resolutely back to Lord Billington. “It is
good to know your given name, even if I do not intend to use it,” she said with a secret smile. “For it is difficult to think of you as ‘the earl.’ ”
“Does that mean you will think of me as Charles?”
She shrugged delicately.
It was at that point that Dunford decided he had better intercede. Billington looked as if he wanted nothing more than to take Henry’s hand, lead her out to the garden, and kiss her senseless. Dunford found that feeling unpleasantly easy to understand. He took three swift steps and was at her side, putting his arm through hers in a most proprietary manner.
“Billington,” he said with as much warmth as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn’t much.
“Dunford. I understand you are responsible for bringing this delightful creature to the attention of the ton.”
Dunford nodded. “I am her guardian, yes.”
The orchestra struck up the first chords of a waltz. Dunford’s hand stole down Henry’s arm and settled around her wrist.
Billington executed another bow in Henry’s direction. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Barrett?”
Henry opened her mouth to reply, but Dunford was faster. “Miss Barrett has already promised this dance to me.”
“Ah, yes, as her guardian, of course.”
The earl’s words made Dunford want to rip his lungs out. And Billington was a friend. Dunford clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to growl. What the hell was he going to do when men with whom he wasn’t friends began to court her?
Henry frowned in irritation. “But—”
Dunford’s hand tightened considerably around her wrist. Her protest died a quick death. “It was very nice to meet you, Lord Billington,” she said with unfeigned enthusiasm.
He nodded urbanely. “Very nice, indeed.”
Dunford scowled. “If you’ll excuse us.” He started to lead Henry out toward the dance floor.