Henrietta mimicked a gagging sound. “I hope they are not back in fashion next season or none of the gentlemen will be even worth flirting with.”
John glowered. “You will be flirting with no one.”
“That’s absurd, brother. What is a season without flirting?”
“She is right, Your Grace,” Catherine cut in, smiling, liking Henrietta more by the minute, and hoping to vex John by agreeing with his sister. He might not value Catherine’s opinion in regard to what the girl should know, but he couldn’t completely ignore the girl’s own wishes to learn about the world as it really existed. “There is no point to a girl’s first season without a little flirting. But we’ll discuss all of that in our lessons, including how to stay well within the bounds of propriety.” She gave Henrietta a wink.
“Where did you findher, John?” Henrietta said, looking a little shocked, and Catherine saw that most of her bold talk was bluster. “Youdohave much to teach me.”
“She will not teach you anything but what is decent, Henrietta,” John broke in, “and what a young lady like yourself should know.”
He shot Catherine a warning look and she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. He was a true arse. He didn’t trust her with his sister, but he didn’t understand that no one knew better than her what the girl faced. Perhaps he only still saw her as a disgraced and tainted Forster, but—for that reason—she was the best tutor for Henrietta. Because Henrietta, whether he wanted to believe it or not, was going to have to contend with many of the same labels.
“Of course, Your Grace. But flirting is part of what Henrietta must learn about before we set her loose in the world. There is conduct-book comportment and then there is reality—learning to balance the two is what makes a lady.”
John gave her another venomous look. For her part, Catherine was surprised by her own eloquence on a topic she hadn’t considered seriously in a very long time.
“Very well,” he said, coughing and looking away from her. “You have, of course, a sound philosophy, Miss Aster, but perhaps we can start with a subject other than flirting.”
“You must not mind him, Miss Aster,” Henrietta said. “If it were up to him, I would read Fordyce’s Sermons all day and dress like a Puritan.”
Catherine smiled in a way that she hoped was enigmatic, just to tease John a bit. He did look uncomfortable. From the set of his mouth, for just a second, she saw a brief glimpse of his deep anxiety. For Henrietta, she realized. The sweetness of his concern moved her. How many other brothers—how many otherdukes—cared so much for their sister’s happiness? It could not be many.
“Very well,” he repeated. “I have affairs of ducal importance to take care of with my steward, so I will leave you ladies to further your acquaintance.”
He shot Catherine a look that she couldn’t quite decipher—was it a warning or an apology? She couldn’t tell, even when she directed her gaze to his mouth.
“You are truly,” Henrietta said, and Catherine could see her face beaming with love, “the most pompous arsehole who ever lived.”
“That’s me,” he said, jocularly, as he strode from the breakfast room. “But no lessons today. A quick turn about the gardens, Henrietta, and then back to bed.”
Catherine had never given lessons in anything. She might have become a governess or teacher, as an educated girl with no income, but no family would have ever hired her to guide their young, impressionable daughters, given the notoriety of her name. She had no idea how to speak to a pupil. She realized that her only models were her aunt Mary and Lady Wethersby. She knew neither woman would thrill John as a pattern for his sister’s manners, but they would have to do.
Five minutes later, wrapped in their shawls, she and Henrietta were in the garden.
Henrietta had a younger sister’s teasing nature around her brother, but once he was gone, she was touchingly respectful to Catherine, as if she wanted to show her eagerness to learn.
“Have you been to many grand balls?” Henrietta asked, as they strode down a pathway lined with blue irises.
“A few.” Catherine thought of several luxurious affairs she had attended with the Wethersbys before their fall from grace. “You must prepare yourself for the reality that most are very dull. It is not all excitement.”
“Of course,” Henrietta said, seriously, taking Catherine’s arm. It made her heart light to have the trust of this forward young woman, particularly when John seemed so wary of the influence that Catherine might have on his sister. “I’msoglad John brought you here. I should fall deathly ill more often.”
Catherine shook her head. “Your brother would not like that. He had already engaged me for this post when he heard the news. We were traveling here when we heard and he was very, very worried.”
“I know.” Henrietta sat on a stone bench and Catherine joined her. “I was only jesting, of course. I just miss him when he is gone.”
Catherine looked at Henrietta’s girlish, wistful face. Her countenance had a strange china-plate kind of beauty that contrasted with her fiery demeanor.
“Miss Aster,” the girl said, taking her hand. “May I reveal a delicate matter to you?”
Dear God,Catherine thought,what was the girl going to say?Catherine’s mind flashed to her telling John that his sister had been impregnated by a stable boy and still wanted to have her season. Knowing Henrietta—and Catherine was beginning to—she would bethatdetermined to come out.
John would probably be unhappy that his little sister had unburdened herself to Catherine. She should tell her to speak to her brother about anydelicatematters.
Henrietta closed her eyes and Catherine had the words to stop her on her tongue.Why hasn’t she told her brother?she wondered, in a panic. It must be of a sensitive,femininenature.Dear Lord.
And, yet, the sight of Henrietta, so young and vulnerable, and so clearly in need of a friend, caused her to hold back. John would just have to accept that, when it came to his sister, she was involved now.
