Page 54 of To Marry A Matchmaker

His eyes widened before his face contorted with fury. ‘I’ll not be denied, Henrietta.’

‘I’m not against you, Sebastian.’ Henri held out her hands. ‘I want the best for you, but you’re behaving like a spoilt child. You’re better than that. Grow up and solve this problem yourself.’

* * *

Henri snipped off the dead heads off the overblown roses with fierce strokes. Two days of Sebastian’s sulking and not a word from Robert. Sebastian kept making barbed remarks and then apologising as he was supposed to try to be an adult. Aunt Frances was not being any use in the matter, retreating to her library and assuming that Henri had somehow wronged Sebastian.

Robert’s silence bothered her. Twice she penned a note, only to toss it in the fire. Life would be easier if he wrote first. And Henri hated waiting. Even the various doings of village life held no interest.

In desperation, she tried reading the letters between Edmund and her, but they seemed to belong to another age. She barely recognised the girl who had penned the breathless declarations of love, and had stopped the exercise as pointless after reading the first six. Somehow along the way she’d stopped grieving for Edmund. She knew she’d always treasure his words, but they no longer sent wave after wave of racking pain through her being. As she carefully replaced the letters, she felt embarrassed, as if she was peeking into someone else’s life; it was the mundane detail about the dresses, parties and what he had had for dinner that held her interest rather than her overblown expressions of love and devotion.

The whole exercise seemed to make her think more about Robert rather than less—the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed and how his hands felt against her back when they danced, when they kissed. The maelstrom of passion that made her feel alive in a way that Edmund had never done.

Henri gave the roses a fierce swipe with her shears. Did she even have to bow to propriety and convention? Sebastian never did.

‘You appear about ready to murder those flowers. What have they done to deserve that sort of treatment?’

Henri missed her stroke and cut through a swathe of buds. Now she was starting to imagine his voice.

‘Henri? Has something happened?’

Her heart skipped a beat, but she stared at the beheaded rose for a moment longer, seeking to control her reaction. She had promised herself so many times that what had happened the night of the ball was an aberration. However, she only had to imagine his voice and her pulse raced faster.

‘Henri? Are you going to speak to me?’

Henri spun around. He stood there, hands held out, a half-smile on his face. A lock of hair fell over his forehead. Her fingers itched to smooth it away.

‘Robert, it’s you.’ Henri grasped the basket tighter. ‘An unexpected pleasure.’

‘Sending a note about the other forfeit was unnecessary. I’d promised to call, but there was urgent business at the works.’ He touched his fingers to his hat. His face seemed thinner, making his eyes appear more intense.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ Henri stared at him, perplexed. What was this about a note and forfeit? And more to the point—who had sent it? Was this Sebastian’s test of loyalty? Henri rejected the notion. Sebastian had nothing to gain by sending Robert to her.

‘Your aunt said that you would be in the garden and encouraged me to find you.’

Henri breathed a little easier. Mystery solved. Aunt Frances was playing at matchmaking. It was very like Aunt Frances to send a note and then leave matters to work themselves out.

‘I believe you will find the note was from my aunt.’

‘Does it matter? It is good to know that your aunt approves of me.’ A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. ‘Unless you have a reason why you and I no longer have any need to be civil, I want to hear how the patient progresses. And Boy wants you to come and visit soon.’

She laughed as the blood started to rush through her veins, warming her all over. Nothing mattered except he was standing there. He’d come expressly to visit her.

‘Has the dog told you?’

‘It was in his eyes when I told him where I was going.’

‘You are exaggerating.’ Henri concentrated on a rosebud that was just unfurling its petals to the hot summer sun. She had never seen Robert indulge in light-hearted whimsy before and it amused her. ‘That dog does not miss me.’

‘Visit and see for yourself. You’ve made a conquest.’

Henri kept the basket in front of her like a shield and tried to remember all the reasons why seeing Robert alone again was a bad idea and why she should suggest going up to the drawing room where Sebastian lurked. Henri’s heart plummeted. The last thing she wanted was to have Sebastian be unbearably rude.

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