Straightening the bonnet Henrietta’s kiss had displaced, Lady Fuddlesby allowed her mind to dwell on her desire for a match between her niece and the Duke of Winterton. She wished he were to escort them to the opera. She contented herself with thoughts of the charming events of the carriage ride and the duke’s jolly little parrot. Colonel Colchester had the right of it. There was something between the duke and her niece. The way they had looked at one another when he had spread that handkerchief across her knees! And the situation continued to improve. Why, the two had not come to cuffs in one whole day!
Lady Fuddlesby beamed with pleasure. “Oh, my dear, do help me sneak a little of this wonderful ham home for Knight. He does so enjoy it!”
* * * *
At the Royal Italian Opera that night, Henrietta’s head hurt worse than she could ever remember. The pain began on the drive home from the Peabodys’ in the duke’s carriage. Unable to face conversing with him, she had feigned sleep the entire way. Once she was home, a nap eluded her. She lay upon her bed, unable to believe she was betrothed.
Had she been too hasty in accepting Lord Baddick? She stole a sidelong glance at him as he sat next to her in the opera box. What was she to wait for? A voice sneered in her mind. Did she expect the Duke of Winterton to suddenly cast Lady Clorinda aside, and change his brotherly feelings toward herself to that of the lover?
She could not appreciate the rather piercing voice of Madame Catalani. Many of the Nobility seemed to find each other a more interesting sight than the celebrated woman on stage.
Henrietta turned to Lady Fuddlesby, who sat on her other side. “Why are so many people raising their quizzing glasses to look around them, rather than at the singer?”
Her aunt pursed her lips in disapproval. “The purpose of coming to the opera, dear, is the same as going to any other entertainment, I fear. Thank heaven your reputation seems to be untarnished after the... lapse the other night at Almack’s. People nodded to us most properly when we entered. I am certain word has gotten around about our arrival with the duke at the Peabodys’, so everyone has written the... unpleasantness off as a mere peccadillo.”
“I am glad we will suffer no embarrassment. But you mean Society comes to the opera to be seen?” Henrietta asked. “Just like at the rout or Almack’s? Not to hear the music?”
“Oh, my dear, yes. It can be worse than tonight. Some of the gentlemen can be quite loud. Madame Catalani commands more respect than some other unfortunate divas that have graced the stage.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, Lady Fuddlesby leaned close to Henrietta and discreetly pointed her fan. “Oh, do but look. The Duke of Winterton has arrived in his box with his mother.”
Henrietta’s gaze flew down the auditorium to where the duke was helping his mother to a chair. As she stared at his handsome, athletic figure, shown to perfection in impeccable evening dress, her heart jolted and her pulse pounded. Despite his maddening arrogance, Henrietta could not help dreaming of being crushed within his embrace. What would it be like to feel his arms around her? How would it feel to touch his face, his hair?
“Fairest one, are you feeling quite the thing? You are so pale.”
Lord Baddick’s voice, filled with concern, brought Henrietta sharply back to reality. These wayward thoughts of the duke were most improper, she chastised herself. Though no one but she and Lord Baddick knew it, she was a betrothed lady. Her thoughts must only be for her future husband. She turned to look at him, managing a smile. “You are so perceptive. My head does ache frightfully, but do not concern yourself, my lord. I shall come about.”
When Henrietta’s disobedient gaze next found its way to the duke’s box, she was dealt her punishment. Joining him and his mother were Lady Clorinda and Lord and Lady Mawbly. All over the theater, quizzing glasses rose when the lady assumed to be the future duchess arrived. Her golden beauty and voluptuous figure were most alluring in an aquamarine-colored opera dress.
A gentleman in a nearby box nearly fell to his death as he leaned forward to better appreciate the dress’s neckline.
Henrietta sat back in her chair miserably. She fixed her gaze on the stage, but could hardly see because of the tears forming in her eyes.
Over in the Duke of Winterton’s box, Giles greeted his guests, and then sat back to enjoy Catalani’s performance. But almost at once, his gaze wandered unerringly to where Miss Henrietta Lanford sat with her aunt and—deuce take it—Viscount Baddick. A shadow of anger swept across the duke’s masculine face.
Then he wondered at the emotion. The girl was no concern of his. She was a mere squire’s daughter, well below him in station. He had condescended by doing his duty and warning her about the cur. Now she would have to take care of herself. Had he not washed his hands of her after the contretemps at Almack’s? What had possessed him to threaten Baddick with a duel over Miss Lanford when he had found them together at the Peabodys’? He must have taken leave of his senses.
The Duke of Winterton covertly studied Miss Lanford while she watched the stage. Her color seemed high. He noticed her pale blue dress complemented her dark hair, which was braided into a coronet. Her slender white neck seemed to beckon him, begging for the touch of his lips—
“Giles!” Matilda, Dowager Duchess of Winterton, hissed. “What are you gaping at?”
“Nothing, Mother. I do not gape.” The annoyed duke felt manipulated by both his parents. His mother was the one who had invited the Mawblys to join them at the opera. It was clear Lady Clorinda had the dowager’s approval for the position of the next duchess. The duke felt as if being with Clorinda all afternoon at the breakfast had been sufficient. While her beauty prevented her from being a total bore, the lady was beginning to appear superficial. Her range of attractions was perhaps limited, he mused.
As for his father, through his unholy vessel, Sir Polly Grey, the deceased seventh Duke of Winterton lectured him incessantly on what was due his name. Sometimes the duke felt as if he could cheerfully place his fingers around the parrot’s meddlesome throat and make it produce a sound similar to the one coming from the lady’s mouth onstage.
At the intermission, an incredibly strong desire to speak with Miss Lanford again about Lord Baddick gripped the duke. He argued with himself. Then he chanced to look over and see Baddick place a possessive hand over Miss Lanford’s as they spoke. A decidedly unpleasant picture of the viscount taking further liberties with Miss Lanford presented itself in the duke’s mind, catapulting him out of his box.
As the duke left the box without an explanation, Clorinda’s green eyes lit with shock and anger. She wanted him to remain at her side so members of Society could come and pay their respects to the new couple. An alarming thought that the duke’s interest in her was not as high as it should be crossed her mind. While her lips formed a pout, she glanced about her speculatively, reassured by the gratifying attention being given her by the young bucks in the pit. She sat back and chided herself for being silly. Of course Winterton wanted her.
Since Lady Fuddlesby had wandered away to visit friends, Henrietta and Lord Baddick were alone in their box, conversing in low tones about the performance. Henrietta’s headache reached new proportions and she unconsciously rubbed her temples.
A brief knock preceded the Duke of Winterton’s unexpected appearance. His voice was quiet, yet held an undertone of cold contempt. “I wish to speak with Miss Lanford, Baddick.”
Lord Baddick rose to his feet and faced the duke. “She is right here at my side, Winterton.’’ The viscount placed a slight emphasis on the word “my.” “Go ahead and say what you will,” he taunted.
Henrietta stood anxiously, not knowing how to react to the animosity she felt flowing between the two gentlemen now glaring at each other.
The duke’s gray eyes were as cold as the North Sea. “I wish to be private with Miss Lanford. Take yourself off, Baddick.”
Lord Baddick’s voice was inflamed and belligerent. “No. I don’t think I shall allow you to be private with my fiancée,” he said from beneath his teeth. Instantly, as the words were out of his mouth, Lord Baddick regretted allowing the duke to goad him into this portentous slip of the tongue.
Henrietta gasped.
An odd twinge of disappointment squeezed the duke’s heart. Through stiff lips he addressed a visibly trembling Henrietta. “You are betrothed?”
A sharp denial rose in Henrietta’s throat. She pressed her gloved fingers across her mouth to prevent it from escaping. Controlling herself, she dropped her hand to her side. She answered calmly, with no lighting of her eyes, no smile of tenderness regarding her prospective nuptials. “Yes, your grace.”
The Duke of Winterton searched Miss Lanford’s face. “I wish you happy,” he said at last. Without looking at Lord Baddick, the duke turned and left the box.
Afterward, Henrietta lost all sense of time until the final curtain on the opera fell.
While they made their way to his lordship’s carriage, Lady Fuddlesby chattered. “We did so enjoy ourselves, Lord Baddick, did we not, Henrietta? We owe you our thanks, my lord.”
“Yes, indeed we did,” Henrietta replied, and then stumbled slightly. Lord Baddick’s arm reached out to steady her before she could fall.
“Henrietta, whatever is the matter?” Lady Fuddlesby asked, alarmed.
Breathing deeply of the evening air to refresh herself, Henrietta confessed, “My lady, I am sorry to spoil our plans to join Colonel Colchester at Grillon’s, but I have the most horrible headache. I must beg you to allow me to return home.”
“Oh, my dear, but of course! One can hardly function with one’s temples pounding. I know from experience the only thing for it is to lie upon one’s bed until it passes!” Lady Fuddlesby said sympathetically. Turning to Lord Baddick, she announced, “We must take her home at once.”
Lord Baddick, who had been thinking furiously ever since his careless admission of the betrothal in front of the duke, felt as though the Fates smiled upon him. What an absolutely splendid opportunity. He must take his pleasure this night and be gone to the country on the morrow. If ever asked, he would say both the duke and Miss Lanford were mistaken. He never offered marriage.
Arriving at his carriage, Lord Baddick helped the ladies inside. Once they were settled he said, “Lady Fuddlesby, allow me to take Miss Lanford back to Grosvenor Square after setting you down at Grillons. I am persuaded that if Miss Lanford is merely to retire upon arriving home, there is no need for you to miss the pleasure of a late supper.”
Before Lady Fuddlesby could protest, Henrietta quickly added, “Yes, dear Aunt, Lord Baddick is correct. You must not disappoint the colonel just because of my wretched head. Besides, if you return home with me, Colonel Colchester will be at Grillons wondering what has become of us until you are able to send a messenger.”
Lady Fuddlesby looked doubtful. “Thinking we would be quite late, I gave the servants the evening off, although Felice most likely is home. I would need to give you the key, Henrietta, for Felice is a terribly sound sleeper, and will never hear the knocker. You would need to go up to the attics and wake her to help take care of you.” She did not mention her other concern, which was the impropriety of Lord Baddick and Henrietta driving from Grillon’s to Grosvenor Square alone. Of course, since the evening was fine, Lord Baddick did have his open carriage, so it might answer....
As if reading her thoughts, Lord Baddick reassured her. “My lady, you have my word as a gentleman no harm shall come to your niece. The conventions will be satisfied. I shall see Miss Lanford safely to the door, unlock it for her, and be on my way.”
Lady Fuddlesby capitulated. “Very well, let us be off. But you must promise, my dear, to wake Felice the moment you arrive.”
Henrietta nodded her agreement, and when they pulled away from the curb, her ladyship thought her niece looked very pale indeed. It was highly doubtful the viscount would be boorish enough to press his attentions on an ill girl, she told herself. And Lady Fuddlesby did so wish to be in the colonel’s company. Her feelings for him were growing most affectionate, and she believed them returned by the handsome military man.
When the carriage pulled up in front of Grillons, Lady Fuddlesby could see Colonel Colchester walking up to the entryway. Pulling a key out of her reticule, she handed it to Henrietta, and a last-minute wave of doubt struck her. Her brows drew together in concern. “You are certain, my dear, that you do not wish me to accompany you?”
“I am certain, ma’am. Please go and enjoy yourself.” Henrietta managed a weak smile. She wished she could tell her she and Lord Baddick were engaged so her aunt might not worry.
Lord Baddick barely waited to see Lady Fuddlesby at Colonel Colchester’s side before moving off toward what he anticipated would be a very invigorating end to the evening.
The drive to the town house passed quietly and uneventfully. Lord Baddick did not wish to alarm his prey now that the moment had arrived.
At the door to the town house, Henrietta withdrew the key her aunt had given her. Lord Baddick took it from her cold fingers. “Here, allow me,” he said, turning the lock. The door swung open. The viscount waved his hand toward the inside of the hall, motioning Henrietta to precede him.
“My lord, perhaps you should not come in,” Henrietta began uncertainly as she crossed the doorway and turned to face him.
Lord Baddick obediently remained outside. “If you do not wish me to, then of course, I will not.” He spoke softly while he cajoled, “My heart, we are betrothed. I beg a moment to be private with you. I have decided to leave for my estate in the morning so I may place my ring upon your lovely finger without any further delay.” He grinned boyishly. “My mother will have questions for me about you, which I confess I know not the answers to. Can you not spare a few minutes for me?”
It did not seem an unreasonable request. “Very well, then.” Henrietta stepped back so his lordship could enter.
She led him upstairs to the drawing room where candles were lit and a fire burned low. They stood near the hearth.