Before she could reach them, however, Mrs. Morrison flitted up to her.
“Lady Henrietta,” she said, her face flushed and her hands fluttering. She looked much like she had the time the game cock had gotten into the pantry. And she appeared to have had a glass of champagne—or three. “Why did you not warn me that that man Mr. Foxcroft was going to be here?”
Of all the things that Henrietta had expected Mrs. Morrison to say to her after her marriage, she would have never expected this utterance. And it made her remember Mr. Foxcroft’s question about Mrs. Morrison.
“Do you know Mr. Foxcroft well? He said he met you when you came to Tremberley to retrieve John once years ago.”
Mrs. Morrison looked at her as if the question was improper.
“Know the man,” she grumbled. “I suppose that’s the right of it.”
“Did he do something to offend you on that occasion?” Henrietta asked. It seemed unlikely that Mr. Foxcroft would give offense—especially to a woman.
Mrs. Morrison studied her quickly and then sighed. “There is no use lying to you, I suppose. You are a married lady now. I hope you won’t think less of me.”
“Mrs. Morrison,” Henrietta exclaimed, comprehension dawning. “You didn’t!”
“Aye, my girl, I did,” she said ruefully. “And let me tell you—not even a letter after I quitted the place. And after many a pretty speech he made me, too. I’ve never been one to give myself cheap, I’ll have you know. Handsome devil. I can’t believe I could have been so fooled.”
Henrietta had to suppress her shock. Mrs. Morrison! However, she was hardly one to pass judgment on another woman’s frailty, so she tried to keep her composure.
“He did ask if you would be in attendance.”
“Probably worried, the scoundrel, that I would expose him for the villain that he is,” she sniffed. “Well, I won’t tell anyone but you, my lady, but I’m scandalized he can show his face after his behavior. Oh, sweet Lord, he is headed this way.”
Mrs. Morrison grabbed her arm and Henrietta tried to steady her. She also had to suppress the laugh forming in her chest. If these were the conversations she was now allowed to have as a married woman, life would be very amusing indeed.
Mr. Foxcroft drew level with them. “My lady,” he said, bowing slightly, “Mrs. Morrison, it is a pleasure to see you again after so many years.”
Mrs. Morrison narrowed her eyes at the man but, habitually incapable of being rude, she gave a little nod.
“If you’re not needed by Lady Henrietta,” Mr. Foxcroft said, glancing nervously between them, “would you take a glass of champagne with me? I—I would like to hear—about—Edington Hall—that is—I remember—”
Dear God, Henrietta thought, poor Mr. Foxcroft! He looked as besotted as a schoolboy and was shaking like a mouse in a trap. Mrs. Morrison looked poised between delight and outrage.
“She would love to, Mr. Foxcroft,” Henrietta said, cutting off his stammering. “I turn her over to your good stewardship.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Mr. Foxcroft beamed. Mrs. Morrison looked delighted and yet still wary. Henrietta gave her hand a parting squeeze and then left her to fate. But she dearly hoped that the two were able to work out whatever was between them. She had never in all of her life heard Mrs. Morrison call anyone a “handsome devil” and she felt the phrase was a certain step towards susceptibility to the man in question. And Mr. Foxcroft’s countenance left no question about what he felt.
Henrietta returned to her pursuit of Cassandra and Sebastian. She fixed her eyes on them again and enjoyed the sight of them as she approached. They always looked very in love, but they appeared more sure, more comfortable, together than they ever had. It was strange that it should be so, given the shock they had both just experienced.
“I am not sure how I can ever thank you both properly,” Henrietta said, when she reached them. “You have both saved me at least twice today—and you, Sebastian, three times, given that you formed part of Hartley’s escort to the root cellar.”
“Well,” he said, a smirk curling on his face, “I began as one of the party but I was waylaid en route by my beautiful hellion of a fiancée.” With those words, Sebastian pulled Cassandra closer, and Henrietta saw Cassandra smile in contented embarrassment. “She had to ensure that I hadn’t been killed by Lord Hartley. Apparently she didn’t have faith in my abilities to face down one lovelorn lord.”
Sebastian looked happy and relaxed, but Henrietta couldn’t dismiss her guilt so easily.
“You must have been so worried for him,” she said to Cassandra.
“And for you!” Cassandra retorted. “My best friend and my fiancé alone in a room with a pistol-wielding madman—I’ve never run faster in my life. I am sure Trem and your brother thought I was addled by the time I made it to the chapel vestibule.”
Henrietta saw that Cassandra joked now but, from her expression, she saw that her terror had been very real indeed.
“When he pulled out that pistol,” Henrietta said, shivering at the memory. “It was dreadful. If Sebastian hadn’t showed up at that exact moment, I don’t know how I would have kept my strength, honestly.”
“Always happy to help a damsel in distress,” Sebastian said, smiling roguishly. “Although I feel that I must thank you as well.”
“For repeatedly endangering your life?”
