Page 16 of Wicked With You
Henrietta groaned. “Gran—”
“And understand, sometimes it is perfectly permissible to engage in a bit of…naughtiness in the pursuit of happiness.”
“Gran!” It was then she recalled the sparkle that had been in her gran’s eyes when she told Henrietta, Lilli, Eva, and Annie about meeting their grandfather because of the stone. A giggle slipped from Henrietta. “Gran…were you naughty with grandpa before…before…marrying?”
A glint of amusement entered her warm green eyes. “Trust in the stone, Henrietta dear, and trust your heart.”
“Gran, a stone does not make people fall in love,” she said with an exasperated sigh.
“It leads you to the one you will love, my dear.”
Her grandmother kissed her cheeks, released her, and made her way to the library. Henrietta stood there, feeling very much out of sorts that her gran had given her leave to act wickedly. It was outrageous. Had she no fear at all that trusting in a blasted stone might lead her granddaughters to their ruin?
Gran’s certainty that this stone held some sort of magical love charm suddenly made Henrietta feel unbalanced and scared. Could Lord Hardwick truly be the gentleman she was destined to love and marry? What if she should fall in love with him and he did not return her regard? That night, Henrietta’s sleep was restless, her dreams tormented with images of the earl. It took more than an hour before she fell into a fitful sleep.
When Henrietta woke the following morning, she felt exhausted still. Reposing against her pillows she glared up at the ceiling.
“I cannot believe I dreamed about that rake,” she whispered. “I blame you, Gran, for putting these silly ideas into my head.”
Though if she were honest with herself, Lord Hardwick had always been a man she hoped would ask her to dance whenever she saw him at balls. He had never even requested one dance from her but danced elegantly with others. Lifting her fingers to her lips, Henrietta recalled how perfect his mouth had felt against hers in the dream. Emotion thickened her throat. She was two and twenty, a spinster by the accounts of many, and had never been kissed.
Huffing out a breath, she rolled over onto the pillows determined to steal a couple more hours of sleep before she rose to take her darling Zeus for their daily constitutional walk.
CHAPTER6
Simon was rather impressed with the builders’ work on the charming manor. It rose over three stories and boasted over twenty rooms, at least eight of them being bedrooms. It was not the luxurious home Ellen was used to living in, but neither was it paltry. She would be comfortable there with the man she had chosen to marry and spend the rest of her life with. If only that choice had not left their mother prostrate with grief and frequently calling for the smelling salts. Remembering her dramatic and theatrical grief, Simon fondly smiled.
A knock sounded on the door of the small study he currently used. “Enter.”
Mr. James Peabody, his trusty investigator, sailed inside. Simon’s heart jolted, and he rose from the chair. “Did you find her?”
Mr. Peabody’s small rotund features creased into a smile. It always amazed Simon when the man did that; he appeared to smile with his entire face. It was not an expression that thetonwould approve of, but it was one of the reasons Simon liked and trusted the man. That and Mr. Peabody’s dedication to his craft and his shrewdness.
“I found Lady Ellen, my lord. She is safe.”
His heart jolted. “Safe? Are you certain?”
“Yes, and properly married in a kirk in Scotland. It seemed Lady Ellen and Mr. Orette had carefully planned their elopement.”
Relief scythed through his heart. It seemed Miss Sutton had been indeed correct, and not for the first time, he wondered what alchemy had happened for him to confide his woes in her.
“I gave her your letter, my lord, and she requested that I give this one to you.”
Simon reached for the letter. “Thank you, Mr. Peabody.”
“Very well, my lord.” He bowed and made to leave the study. At the door, he paused. “Did you find that painter, my lord?”
“No. However, I have found a suitable replacement. Thank you, Mr. Peabody. There is no further need to search for Henry Atwood.”
The man murmured his assent and slipped from the study. Simon hurriedly tore open his sister’s letter.
Dearest Simon,
I wept when I received your letter. I was so certain you would be most disappointed and angry with me for eloping with Mr. Orette and causing this scandal for our family. Thank you for buying us such a lovely home as a wedding gift. I am astonished you will still provide a dowry of twenty thousand pounds despite mama’s threat to cut me off for marrying the son of a mere vicar. We shall return to Lancashire soon. Unfortunately, Mr. Orette took a spill and sprained his ankle. He is now limping around with a cane and looks so sweet. I am very happy with my choice of husband, and we are reading over a tome together about agriculture so that he can supervise the acreage that comes with the manor. John had always wanted to have his own farm rather than go into the army or follow his father into the clergy. So, we will be ready to do our best to make a go of it. I never really enjoyed the artificiality of society, and I fell for John when I discovered our mutual interest in gardening, poetry, and matters of that ilk.
Thank you, brother, for forgiving my reckless marriage. I should have spoken to you in person, but I was afraid that you would agree with mother, who was determined to break up our romance and prevent the match.
Your loving and grateful sister.
