Tomorrow he would buckle on his armor and sally forth and slay her dragons, but, for tonight, all was well.
Chapter Nine
Along with the rest of Lady Ellsmere’s houseguests, James and Henrietta quit Ellsmere Grange after a leisurely breakfast the next morning. No lurking danger had surfaced to disturb their sated slumber, yet James remained alert and on edge, although he made an effort to rein in any overly protective impulses.
Especially as Lord Ellsmere gave every indication of having already forgotten their previous evening’s conversation.
James knew what he knew, and his first concern was to get Henrietta safely back under her parents’ roof. To his mind, and even more to his instincts, she was now his—his to protect, to keep safe. As he’d driven his curricle to the grange, he rolled sedately along behind the Cynsters’ carriage, much to his horses’ dissatisfaction; only by traveling behind the coach could he be sure of spotting any threat, even if that meant eating a certain amount of dust.
Once they reached the cobbled streets of Mayfair, he turned off the direct route, tacking down several side streets to reach Upper Brook Street before the carriage; when it drew up before the Cynsters’ steps, he was standing on the pavement waiting to hand Henrietta down.
When he opened the door, Henrietta was sitting poised on the seat, eager to give him her hand; as he assisted her to the pavement, eyes bright, expression alight, she said, “It’s only just eleven. Mama and Papa should still be at home.”
Lips curving in an impossible-to-suppress response, he gave her his arm. “Let’s go in and see.”
The butler, Hudson, on admitting them to the house, confirmed that Lady Louise was in the parlor with Miss Mary, while Lord Arthur was in his study.
James exchanged a look with Henrietta, then drew a suddenly tight breath and said, “Please inquire if I might have a few minutes of Lord Arthur’s time.”
Hudson glanced from James to Henrietta, then beamed. “At once, sir.”
Hudson returned in less than a minute with the news that Lord Arthur was prepared to bestow as many minutes as James wished.
Henrietta met his gaze. “I’ll be in the parlor with Mama.” She squeezed his arm, then released him.
Feeling as she imagined a cat on a hot tin roof might feel, Henrietta watched James disappear in Hudson’s wake down the corridor to her father’s study. Then, dragging in a huge breath, she held it, paused for a moment to define what—how much—to reveal to her mother and sister, then she determinedly walked down the other corridor to the parlor the ladies of the family used for informal relaxation.
Opening the parlor door, she saw her mother and Mary sitting on the window seat, flicking through a stack of ivory cards—doubtless deciding which of the various morning teas they would attend that day. Both had glanced up; the instant they set eyes on her both straightened, alert, their gazes locking on her face.
Realizing she still wore her traveling cape and was clutching her reticule rather tightly, Henrietta went in, closed the door, then walked, carefully, almost tentatively, to stand before the window seat.
Her mother’s eyes searched her face, then Louise reached out and took one of her hands. “What is it?”
Henrietta dragged in a breath past the constriction that had suddenly cinched tight about her chest. “James . . . is asking Papa for my hand.”
For an instant her mother and sister stared, then both shot to their feet and enveloped her in simultaneous scented hugs.
“Excellent!” Releasing her, Mary all but bounced with delight.
“My dear, dear girl! This is wonderful!” Louise drew back to look into Henrietta’s face. “I’m so glad for you both.”
Henrietta smiled back, aware of the relief lurking behind her mother’s pleased and thoroughly satisfied expression; she knew Louise had started to worry that her activities vetting gentlemen for other young ladies would influence her view of gentlemen as a whole to the point that she wouldn’t accept any gentleman herself.
Glowing with maternal benevolence, reassured and expectantly thrilled, her mother released her and stepped back to the window seat, waving Henrietta to join her. “Come, sit, and tell us all about it.”
Henrietta obliged. Flanked by her mother and Mary, both eager to hear every last detail, she related an edited account of her and James’s association, repainting what her mother at least had taken to be a platonic friendship into something more closely resembling their reality. “So, you see, because of James’s grandaunt’s will, we’ll need to hold an engagement ball all but immediately, and we have to marry before the month is out.”
“Well,” her mother said, “you always did like to be different. And getting engaged and marrying in three weeks is definitely something different for this family.” Her mother beamed at her, then at Mary. “So we’ll all need to dive in and work together to ensure we pull it off.”
“I don’t want a big wedding,” Henrietta hurried to state. “We’ve had a surfeit of those—something nice and comfortable would better suit me—and James, I daresay, and our situation. Speaking for myself, I would prefer not to feel overwhelmed on my wedding day. I really don’t know how the others all coped.”
“Hmm.” Her mother tapped her chin with one fingertip. “Comfortable is as comfortable might be, at least in this family, but”—she nodded—“I’ll speak with the others and Honoria, and see how quiet we can make it.”
Mary had been jigging, waiting to ask something. She opened her lips, but a sound at the door had them all looking that way.
The door opened and Henrietta’s father preceded James into the room; one look at her father’s face told her that James’s suit had met with unqualified approval.
Beaming jovially, her father met her mother’s eyes, then focused on Henrietta.