Page 51 of Lady Daring
“You promised me a dance.” He placed her hand on his arm and walked her about the room. “Is Sir Pelton with you?”
“Yes, there on the stairs.” He wanted something from her uncle; that was the reason for his attentions. She must not lose her head, even if his nearness wreaked havoc on her senses. How could he be so calm, so aloof, when he kissed her the way he had in his study?
Because he kissed women all the time. Kisses meant nothing to him. It was only she who still felt his lips on hers. She could think of little else.
“Ought you be here? What if Lord Alfred finds you?”
“Not even a hothead like Freddy would issue a challenge in a crowded ballroom,” Darien said. “Why did you tell Celeste to give my child to the Benevolence Hospital?”
Eyes followed them on their promenade, and confusion clouded the heat blooming through her. Darien was beautifully turned out in deep purple satin and an amber waistcoat, as though he had designed his dress to echo hers.
“You said she wouldn’t see your solicitor. And Mary Ann means to stay on as a wet nurse. The babe would be safe there, well provided for.”
“I told you I didn’t want any child of mine raised in an orphanage.”
His voice, though low, was a whip, and his fingers clenched painfully over hers. Henrietta set her teeth so she did not wince and betray anything to the eyes watching them. She was sure she detected the sallow face and avaricious eyes of Lord Pinochle among them. She had quite forgotten his grudge against her among all the competing distractions.
“Raised as a pauper?” He was truly furious with her. “My solicitor will arrange for a family to take it in. A good family.”
His accusing tone set Henrietta’s back up. She had been trying to help! “You have met this family? You approve of them?”The leaping muscle in his jaw betrayed him, and she pressed her point. “Where is the babe to stay while this family is found?”
His brows drew together in a scowl. “It is not your business.”
“You expect me to simply shrug and turn away when a child’s life is at stake?” Pinochle stood in her periphery, an oily black shadow. “Perhaps men have the luxury of ignoring the welfare of infants. Women do not.”
She held his challenging stare, chin up. He looked away first, and she exhaled, shaken by his anger. Better that than his playing at seduction, she told herself, trying to soothe her rattled nerves. She was accustomed to scorn.
“Miss Pennyroyal,” Darien greeted the girl with a stoic calm. Forsythia was dressed head to toe in a blushing pink, but her eyes were sharp.
“Daring,” she cooed. “So the cartoons are true. You have been cast so far out of Polite Society that you are obliged to associate with tradesmen and bluestockings.” Her look turned to surprise as she surveyed Henrietta’s dress. “My word, Miss Wardley-Hines. This is quite a change in your style.”
“I gave her some hints,” Darien said. “She was wise enough to take them.”
“My modiste persuaded me to try something new.” Henrietta gritted her teeth. So this was to be the tenor of the night, raked down by one and all. Polite Society was a sea of sharks, worse than a town council meeting at Salford when one was trying to obtain permits for rebuilding. She glared at Darien, who had adopted his impassive face.
“Next she will turn you out in public in a nightgown.” Miss Pennyroyal snickered. “Daring, my dear, I think perhaps you should not take the advice of your friend Mr. Empson. Miss Wardley-Hines may not have the power to repair your reputation as you wish.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Darien looked about as if seeking escape and beckoned to a nearby group of gentlemen who were watching their discussion with great interest. One of them strolled over, raising a quizzing glass.
“But I saw Mr. Empson in the park just today, and he told me all about your little scheme,” Miss Pennyroyal pressed on. “I do not think you need stoop to granting your attentions to unsuitable females to annoy your father, however! Turn to the Pennyroyals, milord, if you wish to redeem yourself in the polite world. For we at least have some claim to breeding and are not sullied by trade.”
Henrietta tried to step away. She didn’t need to stand here, a target for Miss Pennyroyal’s barbs. But Darien clamped his hand over hers as she tried to withdraw.
“Miss Pennyroyal,” Darien said. “May I introduce to you the Honorable Mr. Lionel Havering, heir to the Viscount Bourchier, unless he gets himself killed in a duel before he can claim his coronet. Havering, Miss Forsythia Pennyroyal. Her father was the late Colonel Pennyroyal, distinguished for his service in the Seven Years’ War.”
“I gave you your chance to run me through, Daring,” Havering drawled. “Gone through all the duke’s daughters, have you, and reduced to preying on the orphans of our national heroes? I’ve told you before I won’t take your cast-offs.”
Havering raked Henrietta with an insolent gaze that turned to interest and then, as his eyes traveled back to her face, approval. “This one, now,” he said, his drawl deepening, “you may introduce to me. She can’t be seen next to you, wearing that frock. I have a weakness for damsels in need of rescue.”
Henrietta felt a furious blush spread down her neck to her décolletage. She recognized him as Lady Celeste’s former fiancé. Darien said Celeste had jilted the man, but Henriettawasn’t sure. “I know a duke’s daughter in need of rescue, Mr. Havering.”
Havering chuckled at her challenge. “That horse has fled the barn, I’m afraid. Come, Miss Wardley-Hines, take refuge with me. You are too interesting to fall prey to Daring’s version of sport.”
Miss Pennyroyal narrowed her eyes. “As am I,” she huffed. “Nor am I Daring’scast-off. What tales are you spreading, sir?”
Darien held his arm before Henrietta as if Havering meant to steal her. “I warned you about being seen too much in my company, Forsythia.”
The girl went still. “Daring! All those visits to our house, though my mother and grandmother hate you. Your attention, your gifts— What did they mean, if not?—?”
