Page 76 of Lady Daring
It was well she had not begun packing. His kiss she could shake off, a rote seduction she could laugh and shrug away. But he needed her, and she could not deny him.
She had known the man needed saving from himself. She had simply not expected he would be so literal about it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“But youdomean to rivet ’im,” Mary Ann said. “Don’t ye?”
She handed over Celestina. Henrietta tossed the cloth over her shoulder, elevated the infant, and rubbed her back. “Why should I?”
Clarinda looked up from her sewing. “Why not?” she asked curiously.
Lady Mama looked the picture of serene maternity as she sat embroidering a baby blanket of the softest, finest linen, with her beautiful girls dispersed about the family parlor at their favorite activities. Matilda stitched her sampler, Amelia sorted the silks in her mother’s basket, and Sophia was busily winding thread as fast as Charlotte, who was chortling with glee, could unravel it.
Henrietta cradled the fussing babe. Darien’s confession had rattled her almost as badly as his injury. That kiss had been divine, delicious, and a trap. Why should he want to marry her, plain Henrietta Wardley-Hines, when he could have any woman in London? In all of Britain. All the world. Did he think winning her in marriage would bring Uncle Pell to his side in the matter of his father’s suit?
“Perhaps he was attempting to stir a different scandal, to lessen talk about my time in the watch house,” Henrietta said. “Whatever he wants, I can’t imagine it’sme.”
Don’t leave me, he’d said, his eyes burning with anguish.
“’E’s very ’andsome,” Mary Ann said, wide-eyed. She’d peeked in when Henrietta checked that her patient was sleeping. Darien had been lying perfectly still, his mouth closed, his face turned up. Henrietta’s heart ceased beating until she’d laid a hand on his chest and felt the gentle rise and fall. He also felt very warm, and she feared fever.
“Not a reason to wed,” Henrietta said.
“But you did enjoy the kiss,” Clarinda said.
“Still not sufficient reason.”
She could not explain that odd, indelible pull that made her lose her head and kiss him. From the moment she’d peered into his eyes in the Ellesmere gallery, he had abandoned the mask with her. It was an intimacy all its own, seeing his true self—his grandiose dreams, his loyalty to his family, the grief and useless self-blame he wore like heavy chains.
He had entrusted her with his secret, and now he was entrusting her with his life. But what did he want from her? And could she afford the consequences if she trusted him in return?
Clarinda’s soft mouth curved. “Give me that baby.” She took the tiny bundle and, as if the infant were a bolt of cloth, flipped her on her belly and gave her a firm tap between the shoulder blades with the side of her hand. Celestina belched and sighed.
Henrietta collected her charge. “She’ll sleep now for a while, Mary Ann. Go have a lie-down yourself. We’ll find you when she’s hungry.”
“Aye, I could stand a few winks at that,” said Mary Ann, wandering off with a yawn.
“Mary Ann looks much better,” Clarinda said softly, watching her go. “You did the right thing, Hetty.”
“Not by her son.” Henrietta sat on the carpeted floor in a pool of skirts.
“That cannot be helped now, alas. But you did the right thing for Celestina too.” Clarinda picked up her embroidery. “I think you may trust your instincts about Lord Darien as well.”
Celestina dozed, her fists clutched to her cheeks, bow mouth still working. Henrietta lifted her tiny feet, each miniature toe with its diamond chip nail. The other girls gathered around.
“But look at what you had to endure, marrying beneath you,” Henrietta said. “Worse for a man to so lower himself.”
“It is no small thing to be the wife of a marquess’s heir. Think of the influence you would have with your foundations. With your Society.”
“A marquess’s son,” Henrietta corrected her. “His brother is still the heir.”
“It would work in his interests, I should think,” Clarinda said. “Everyone would suppose he has a claim to Jasper’s wealth.”
“He would be shunned for marrying beneath him,” Henrietta said, “and I should look grasping and avaricious. And in addition to my estate and investments and my work for the Minerva Society, and Charley, who still needs looking after, I should have a husband who might very well racket his way about town spending my income. I hardly see the advantage to me.”
“Conjugal felicity,” Clarinda suggested.
Henrietta raised her brows, and Clarinda shrugged. “My darling girl. Do you really suppose I married your father for his money?”
