And Then She Fell (The Cynster Sisters Duo 1)

Seated in the armchair opposite, with his daughter and wife on the chaise to his left, Mr. Wentworth frowned. “So he’s not a fortune hunter after Mellie’s dowry?”

Setting her cup on its saucer, Henrietta shook her head. “No—he has funds enough, but to release the balance of his grandaunt’s fortune he has to marry. As I understand it, the old lady wanted to ensure that he did, so she made it a condition of her will.”

Mr. Wentworth snorted. “I suppose that’s one way an old lady can force a whelp to the altar, but not with my girl.”

“No, indeed!” Mrs. Wentworth agreed, then, clearly recalling that it was Melinda’s opinion that, in this instance, carried the real weight, turned to her daughter. “That is . . . Mellie?”

Cup and saucer held in her lap, Melinda had been staring into the fire. Now she blinked, glanced at her mother, then looked across at Henrietta. “He’s not in love with me, is he?”

Henrietta adhered to the absolute truth. “That I can’t say. All I can tell you is what I know.” She held Melinda’s gaze, then gently said, “You would be a much better judge of that than I.”

Melinda stared back for several moments, then her lips firmed. She shook her head. “He likes me, but no—he doesn’t love me.” She paused and took a long sip of her until-then neglected tea. Lowering the cup, she went on, “Truth be told, that’s why I asked you to learn what you could of him. I already suspected from the way he behaved that there was some motive other than love behind his approach . . .” Lips twisting, Melinda waved and looked away.

Henrietta drained her cup, then set it on the saucer and shifted forward to place both on the low table before the chaise. “I should go. There’s nothing more I have to add, and you’ll want to think things through.” She rose.

Melinda set down her cup and saucer and rose, too, as did her parents. “I’ll see you out.”

“Thank you again for being such a good friend to Mellie.” Mr. Wentworth gruffly patted Henrietta’s hand.

Henrietta took her leave of the senior Wentworths and followed Melinda into the front hall. As soon as the butler shut the drawing room door, Henrietta murmured, low enough that only Melinda, just ahead of her, could hear, “I’m truly sorry to be the bearer of such tidings.”

Halting, Melinda swung to face her. Meeting her eyes, Melinda smiled, albeit weakly. “I admit I was hoping to hear I’d misjudged him, but, truly, you’ve been a godsend. I don’t want to marry a man who doesn’t love me, and all your information has done is confirm what I already suspected, and for that I’m truly grateful. You’ve made my decision so much easier.”

Clasping Henrietta’s shoulders, Melinda touched cheeks, then drew back and continued, “So yes, I’ll be glum for a day or two, but I’ll come around soon enough—you’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Henrietta smiled back.

“I know so.” Melinda sounded more certain with every passing minute. “You’ve helped so many of us now, and I’m sure none of us know what we would have done without you. You’ve saved countless young ladies from disappointing marriages—quite honestly, you deserve an award.”

Henrietta humphed. “Nonsense. I just have better-than-average sources of information.” And, although in the present circumstances she wasn’t about to mention it, she’d confirmed countless other matches as being soundly based on love.

She allowed the butler to settle her cloak about her shoulders, then he opened the front door.

Melinda accompanied her out onto the front step, and immediately shivered as a chill breeze whipped up the street.

Henrietta caught her hand and pressed it. “Go inside. You’ll catch your death—and my carriage is right there.” She nodded across the street to where her parents’ second town carriage stood waiting by the curb.

“All right.” Melinda squeezed back. “Take care. No doubt we’ll meet again soon.”

Henrietta smiled, waited until Melinda retreated and shut the door, then, still smiling to herself, reassured by Melinda’s ready acceptance that she truly hadn’t been in love with James, either, she started down the steps.

While she might have no faith in finding love herself, she was staunchly in favor of love-matches per se; to her mind, love was the one protection that guaranteed a lady a happy and contented married life—

A man barreled into her, moving at shocking speed. The collision sent her reeling.

“Oh!” She would have fallen, but the man whirled and grasped her shoulders, holding her before him, steadying her.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a silver-mounted cane grasped in one gloved hand, registered that the glove was exquisitely made, of soft, pliable leather. She blinked and glanced at the man’s face, but he was wearing a cloak with the hood up; with the streetlights behind him, his face was shrouded in shadow.

All she could see was the tip of his chin. As she watched, it firmed.

“My apologies. I didn’t see you.” The man’s voice was deep, the diction clipped, but cultured.

Catching her breath, she replied, “I didn’t see you either.”

He paused; she sensed he was studying her face, her eyes.

“Miss! Are you all right?”