Page 32 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Twelve

Henry never imagined he’d be sequestered to the confines of a carriage, but upon pulling up to Mrs. Dunn’s townhouse and seeing another carriage already present, he found himself frozen. He could only assume whom the carriage belonged to. That blithering idiot, Amos Bernard. The one Henry had never considered as his competition because Henry himself wasn’t in for Miss Follett’s hand. The one Mrs. Dunn had informed him was the best match for Miss Follett and not to interfere unless his intentions were sincere.

So what had Henry done?

Sought her out on every possible occasion. Made love to her in a dark theatre box. And now he was on a fool’s errand, bringing the girl a bouquet of flowers like some smitten sop.

Mrs. Dunn was right. Bernard may have ghosts of his own, but he was likely a perfect match for Miss Follett. Henry had no right to spoil her chances with him. So instead of waiting in the entryway for her current guest to leave, he found himself hiding in his own damned carriage, two bouquets resting in the seat beside him. They were bright and colorful, despite the dreariness of winter, and upon picking them out, Henry couldn’t help hoping she would like them.

And this gave him even more reason to pause.

What the devil was happening to him? Ever since the moment Miss Follett had fainted into his arms, he’d felt an increased awareness. Even more so than after that magical kiss. Because his interest in her had grown beyond an inconsequential passing fancy. Feeling her limp body in his arms had generated a genuine concern for her health and wellbeing. After that, she’d begun to occupy his every thought when they were not together, and he sought for ways to see her again, to brighten her day.

He had begun to truly care for her, and that frightened him.

The front door clicked open, and sure enough, Bernard appeared, hat and walking stick in hand. He bid farewell to the butler who closed the door, and Henry felt the need to shy away from the windows. He did not want to be spotted if it meant Bernard would suspect. Henry knew his reputation could mean something to Bernard, and he did not want to interfere or damage Miss Follet’s chance with the man, though not enough to keep himself away.

Bernard’s steps slowed as he rested his eyes on Henry’s carriage, making Henry turn away, hoping the shade beyond the windows would keep his identity hidden. Eventually, the man boarded his own carriage and it carried him away, which Henry hoped was far from Miss Follett. He had no right to feel so protective of her, Henry knew. The burn of jealousy in his chest was unjust. He found his need for her to be happy was stronger than his selfish desire for her, so if that meant she needed to marry Bernard, he would eventually have to let her go. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to be the only man in her life, the one she swore before God to cherish forever, making her the last woman he would ever love.

Love?

The thought sent shivers down Henry’s spine. Everything Henry knew about love was false and tainted. No marriage truly lasted with mutual respect and affection, not that he had witnessed within the gentry and nobility. His own parents had been oceans apart in their regard for each other before his mother died, and his father only had enough love in his selfish heart for one son, making it completely conditional. Even among his peers, so many friends were in unhappy matches and miserable marriages. Only James seemed to know what fidelity and honor in marriage looked like. What he had with Isabel was the closest thing Henry could imagine to real love. So Henry’s future could only be a lost cause.

The footman opened the carriage door, making Henry take in a sharp breath and look down at the flowers. He should have the carriage turned around immediately. He should chuck the flowers into the gutters and make his way to a brothel. It was likely the only way he’d be able to clear the emotion from his chest and start thinking clearly again. Give up on any misguided notion of pursuing Miss Follett.

But the chilly afternoon air urged him on, so he grabbed the flowers and headed for the front door.

* * *

As soon as the door closed behind Mr. Bernard, Emma leaned back against the sofa and let out a sigh.

“Why so forlorn, my dear?” Mrs. Dunn asked. “One would think you don’t want to receive Mr. Bernard’s attentions.”

“Not at all, Mrs. Dunn. I regard him most highly and I’m flattered that he would come by to visit me.” Emma spoke each word carefully, mentally marking them as truth. “I only find it difficult to be on ceremony for so long. He stayed much longer than I’d expected.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Emma let out a groan, but Mrs. Dunn only smiled.

“Straighten up, girl. We have more guests yet.” Then she turned and said, “Come in.”

The maid appeared with a curtsy. “Mr. Henry Godwin to see you.”

Emma immediately sat forward, eyes searching the floor for an answer. What was he doing here? Had she invited him? Hadn’t they discussed that typical requirements of courtship would not be necessary? What more, had Mr. Bernard seen Mr. Godwin in passing? Was there cause for him to suspect and give her up? Would she lose her chance at a decent marriage because of her pursual of revenge? Too many thoughts burned through her mind, making her more on edge than before.

“Please show him in,” Mrs. Dunn said.

Heart pounding, Emma put a smile on her face and waited.

Mr. Godwin appeared and gave a bow, a grin on his lips. It was impossible to miss the bouquets of flowers he held in each hand.

“Good day, Miss Follett, Mrs. Chrissy.” He winked at Mrs. Dunn, who only shook her head, pressing her lips into a smirk.

“I should turn you out for that alone, my boy.”

“But all is forgiven when the gentleman brings flowers, isn’t it?” He stepped closer and offered Mrs. Dunn one of the bouquets, which she accepted and brought to her nose, taking in their scent.

“Well chosen. This is an excellent arrangement.” Then she turned to the maid. “A vase for the flowers, if you please. I’d like to place them on the windowpane here.”

Mrs. Dunn stood and moved toward the windows, effectively leaving Emma alone with Mr. Godwin.

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