Page 51 of An Earl Like You
Henrietta’s gaze lingered covetously on the fan. “Very much.”
“Wonderful.” Eliza fluttered it in front of her face with a grin. “Shall we?”
Her sister-in-law nodded eagerly, and Eliza asked the shopkeeper to wrap it.
“To which account, madam?” the woman asked.
“The Earl of Hastings,” said Henrietta before Eliza could speak. “This is my sister, the Countess of Hastings.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes widened. “Of course, my lady.”
Eliza was torn between wanting to argue with Henrietta, when she had intended to pay for the fan from her pin money, and wanting to throw her arms around her.My sister.That meant more to her than anything else.
Henrietta leaned close. “Let Hugh pay the bill,” she whispered with an impish grin. “Besides, no one pays in coin, Eliza.”
Of course. Eliza wasn’t used to having accounts at all the shops in London. The shopkeeper brought back the fan, neatly wrapped, and they went out into the sunshine. “Thank you for your advice, Henrietta. I do hope Edith will like it.”
“It’s exactly her taste! She adores delicate, lovely things...” Henrietta stopped speaking as a gentleman stepped out of a shop directly in front of them. In the act of putting his hat on his head, he didn’t see them at first. “Mr. Benwick,” said Henrietta in surprise.
He looked up. He was a well-dressed, handsome young man, with wavy brown hair and dark eyes. At the sight of Henrietta he paused, but when he saw Eliza he froze. Henrietta made a smothered noise, one hand going to her mouth. For a moment they all seemed frozen in place—Henrietta in shock, Eliza in uncertainty, and Mr. Benwick staring at them both in increasing hauteur.
“Good day, Mr. Benwick,” said Henrietta hesitantly. “May I present my sister-in-law, Lady Hastings. Eliza, this is Mr. Reginald Benwick.”
Edith’s fiancé. Eliza smiled and dropped a curtsy. “How do you do, sir?”
He opened his mouth, glanced at Henrietta again, and then turned on his heel and walked away without a word. Eliza’s stomach plummeted. That could not be good. When she looked at Henrietta’s face, she feared the girl would faint. Henrietta was gazing fixedly at his departing figure, her lips parted and her hands in fists.
“Henrietta.” Eliza touched her arm. “Henrietta. Let’s not stand on the street staring.” Henrietta didn’t move, so Eliza looped her arm securely around the girl’s waist and towed her onward, ignoring any curious glances. “Come,” she whispered. “Come, Henrietta.”
When they reached the house, Henrietta ran up the stairs with a mumbled excuse. Eliza looked at Mary, who shrugged.
Fortunately Hugh was at home. She found him in his study, working at his ledgers. At her entrance, he glanced up. “Come in, my dear.”
She closed the door. “Henrietta and I have just returned home from shopping in Bond Street.”
He chuckled, still writing. “One of her favorite activities!”
“I wanted to get a gift for Edith, after Willy tore her reticule.”
“Did you find one?” Hugh turned the page and made more notes.
“Yes, an ivory fan.” Eliza frowned. “Then something very strange happened. Isn’t Edith betrothed to Mr. Reginald Benwick?”
Hugh’s laughter cut off abruptly. His head came up. “Why?”
“We met him in the street. Henrietta said his name and when he turned to look at us...” Eliza bit her lip. It hadn’t been when Mr. Benwick looked at Henrietta, it had happened when he looked ather.
“What did he do?” Hugh shot out of his chair and came around the desk, scowling. “What did he say to you?”
She flushed. “Nothing. Not a word. He—he turned and walked away without even a nod or a bow.”
Hugh’s mouth flattened, and for a moment he looked almost dangerously angry. Eliza had never seen him look that way, but the expression was gone in an instant. He plowed his hands into his hair and walked away, across the room to the window. “The little wretch,” he said, sounding no more than irked. “How ill-mannered of him.”
“Is there trouble with him and Edith?”
“Edith has done nothing to cause it. Benwick is being difficult.”
Eliza nibbled her lip. The man gave them the cut direct, which was far beyond being a bit difficult. “Difficult about what?”
