Page 72 of An Earl Like You
Henrietta found him, with a tall young fellow at her side. Hugh knew William Parker-Jones, youngest son of the Marquess of Downes, but it still gave him a start to hear the fellow ask permission to call upon Henrietta. His sister glowed every time Lord William glanced her way, and Hugh realized his youngest sister was not a girl anymore.
“I see from Henrietta’s expression I must say yes,” he told the young man. “But I must also tell you that I am determined she shall make her debut and have a Season next year.”
“Of course,” said Lord William warmly. “I never meant to prevent it.” He stole a glance at Henrietta, pink-cheeked and beaming. “I might hope to steal a march on all those other fellows who will be sure to ask your permission next year, though.”
Hugh chuckled. “You can do your best. Henrietta will decide more than I whether you succeed.”
The dowager countess joined them, and Henrietta shared her happy news. Rose exclaimed in delight, and they talked for a while. Edith came by and was presented to her sister’s new suitor, but slipped away when her mother murmured something to her. When Lord William left to go inform his own mother, Rose sent her regards to the marchioness.
“Henrietta, my darling, how lovely. He’s a charming boy, of such good family.” Rose squeezed her daughter’s hand.
“Are you truly pleased, Mama? Do you approve?” Without waiting for an answer, she spun to Hugh. “Did you mean what you said, Hugh—that I shall have my choice?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked in pretend affront. “Do you intend to choose badly?”
She laughed, but sobered quickly. “No! It’s only... a very novel thought, that gentlemen will be calling on me and courting me and trying to make love to me. It all looked so exciting and romantic when it was Edith, and I did almost die of envy, but now... You will tell me if you think I’m making a mistake, won’t you?”
Like Benwick, she meant. “I will,” he promised. “I want to see you happy.”
She sighed, her smile returning. “Where is Eliza? I cannot wait to tell her.”
“I don’t know.” Hugh raised his head and scanned the room. He didn’t see her, and she’d been gone quite a while. Off across the room, he spied Lord Livingston in conversation with his son and Sir Richard Nesbit. The viscount was facing him, and when Hugh glanced his way, their eyes met. Livingston’s lip curled, and he raised his glass in mocking salute. Hugh scowled and looked away.
“I sent Edith to fetch Eliza,” said his mother. “I wanted to present Lord William to her. I wonder why she’s taking so long.”
Hugh frowned. He couldn’t see Edith, either. Perhaps they were both in the retiring room, but that suggested Eliza was unwell. It must be half an hour since she’d left. “I’ll find them,” he told his mother and sister, and set off through the crowd.
He met Edith in the arched doorway of the room. “Oh, Hugh, there you are,” she exclaimed in patent relief. “Eliza asked me to find you.”
“What’s wrong?” He was instantly concerned. She’d been fine when she left. “Where is she?”
“She went home in the carriage.”
“What?”
Edith put up her hands at his sharp question. “I wanted to find you, but she insisted on going immediately. Finch will take her home safely, so I let her go.”
“Why did she want to leave?” he demanded. By God, if Livingston had said something to her...
“She said she had a headache, that it was so loud in here and she had danced too much.”
Hugh’s frown deepened. That was possible, but seemed very unlike Eliza. “Did she seem very ill?”
Edith hesitated, then confessed, “Yes. Or perhaps not ill, but very odd. She had a distant look, and I don’t think she paid attention to half of what I said to her. I believe she had something else on her mind. She looked almost dazed.”
God damn it. Rage, hot and violent, shot through him. It must have been Livingston or Benwick, the spineless little toad. He thought of Livingston’s malicious smirk. They were retaliating for Eliza’s set-down to Benwick, or perhaps his mother’s drawing room campaign to defend her. “I’m going home to make certain she’s well.”
Edith grinned. “I told her you would.”
He took Edith back to their mother and told her he would send the carriage back for them. “Of course, dear,” she said. “But Hugh...” She pulled him a step away from his sisters. “Be gentle,” she admonished. “There may be a very good reason for her abrupt departure.”
“I’m sure there is, Mother,” he said. “Eliza’s not rash or impulsive.”
“No.” She lifted one brow. “Averygood reason. When a newly married lady suddenly takes ill...” She made a delicate gesture with one hand. “Be gentle,” she said again, beginning to smile.
His jaw dropped. But of course—he should have thought of that. His tension subsided, replaced by a dazed wonder. Could Eliza be with child? He would have preferred that she tell him herself, but his mother had borne children and he had not; surely she would know what she spoke of, urging him to be gentle and understanding. “I will be,” he promised his mother, and headed for the door again, this time plowing through the crowd impatiently.
He didn’t bother to wait for someone to see if Finch had returned with the carriage. He left instructions for his driver when he returned and set off on foot. It wasn’t far, and would be faster to walk, with the street clogged by carriages. He hoped Eliza had gone home for a happy reason; a child! And so soon after their marriage. Perhaps ithadbeen Livingston, but his steps sped up as he imagined Eliza pregnant. Holding their child in her arms, singing softly. A dark-haired son. A little girl with wide green eyes and a shy smile.
