“And we need to talk about last night,” he said, giving her a scorching look. Catherine had the distinct impression that, after such a talk, her life—which had already changed so much—wouldn’t be the same.
“Henrietta first,” she teased, “as you promised.”
When they reached the breakfast room, Henrietta was already seated in a dress of light blue, her hair pinned up charmingly in a hairstyle that suggested much preening before the glass.
“Catherine!” Henrietta said when she saw her. “What do you make of my coiffure? I had Gretel do it from some of the fashion plates that Mrs. Warburton brought with her.”
“It’s charming, Henrietta,” Catherine said, taking a seat. “Very bewitching.”
The girl blushed at the compliment. “Brother?” she said, baring her head and twisting it for his commentary.
“Er,” he said, “quite a bit of frizzling, no?”
Henrietta gasped. “You really are atrociously rude, you know? It’s a wonder anyone can stand him, Catherine.”
Catherine smiled but didn’t say anything more. One of the difficulties of interacting with both Henrietta and John was that she couldn’t be too familiar with John without giving away to his sister that their relationship was more than it seemed. Miss Aster wouldn’t tease her employer.
Instead, she said, “Well, I think it’s quite fetching.”
“See? Brother?” she said. “Fetching. I will befetchingthe admiration of all society gentlemen once I make my debut.”
“You’ll be fetching nothing,” he retorted. “Other than what I allow.”
Henrietta scowled at John.
“But, Retta, I do need to talk to you.”
Instantly, the girl’s eyes went wide. She looked at Catherine to save her.
“It’s what we talked about, Lady Henrietta. I have talked to His Grace and he wants to clear up a few misunderstandings.”
“We don’t really…” Henrietta began, her voice high, her eyes roving about the room. “It’s fine, really—what is there to discuss, after all?”
“Retta,” John said, ignoring his sister’s discomfort, “I’m sorry I have never discussed the scandal with you. I should have. And father should have. You’re not a child, as Miss Aster has recently informed me. I should have discussed it with you. And I want to answer any questions you might have. About what happened.”
Henrietta was now deeply focused on the bottom of her teacup.
“Henrietta,” Catherine said, “I think you did have a few questions—didn’t you?”
The girl raised her gaze. The look there, scared and uncertain, clawed at Catherine’s heart.
“Am I really not father’s daughter?”
“Of course you are,” John broke out at once. “I am certain of it.”
“How can you be?”
“I was here when you were born,” he said, surprising Catherine. “I was back from school. I came back the night you were born, in fact.”
“Really?” Henrietta said. All of a sudden, she looked a bit disgusted. “You saw mother give birth to me?”
“Of course not. But I was here the night you were born. I held you the very next day. You were born within these walls. I promise.”
“Then why does everyone say otherwise?”
Catherine watched John hesitate.
“Our mother ran off, as apparently you know, with the Baron of Eastwick. But, when she left, she was already pregnant. I remember. They had just told me, in fact, right before the scandal broke, that I was to have a sibling.”
