“Let me guess,” Henrietta said, with a sly smile. “A letter from Montaigne letting you know that John is furious and he will do what he can—and a letter from Leith saying that John is furious and that he agrees with him?”
“How did you know?”
“You forget that I’ve known you three for a long time. Should I try and write to John?”
Trem shook his head. “Only I can fix this. And it won’t be fixed until I see him in person.”
Henrietta looked at him and he could tell that she was holding back.
“What is it, my love?” he said, taking her hand. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”
She sighed. “I received letters, too. Yesterday.”
“From whom?” he said, his pulse jumping at her confession.
“The first was from Catherine and I imagine that it was much like that which you received from Montaigne. She said that John was angry and didn’t know she was writing to me. That she was trying to manage him but that he is furious with you.”
Trem shrugged. It helped that Catherine wasn’t against the marriage, but he was sure his best friend’s wife thought him a blockhead all the same. He didn’t like the idea.
“And the second? Was it from Miss Seymour?”
Henrietta shook her head. And then she drew a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to him.
“It came enclosed with the one Catherine sent. He sent it to Breminster House.”
Lady Henrietta,
I am eternally at your service—surely you know this truth. Lord Tremberley has proved to be a terrible villain. Please know that, once we marry, I will not reproach you for any intimacy he has forced upon you. It is clear from your flight from London that he has preyed on you in the most terrible manner. I only wish you had come to me for relief. I could have helped you escape him. But I understand feminine delicacy may have stopped you from reaching out to one man to help you disentangle yourself from the unwanted advances of another.
I cannot believe that you have truly forgotten me. In letting me take such liberties as you did, you ruined yourself. Marriage to me is your only recourse. You must know this truth as well as anyone. You are not a lowly tavern wench or a whore—no matter how you behave—and you must act as a lady’s honor dictates. Accept my suit at once. Write to me your direction and I will save you from the clutches of the perfidious Lord Tremberley.
If you do not respond to this missive, I will have to resort to methods of securing your hand that, I assure you, neither of us want to see me deploy.
I remain, forever yours,
Lord Hartley
“What is wrong with this fellow!” Trem cried, rage clouding his vision. “How many times must he be rejected by a woman to find her word sufficient?”
“At this point we must accept the obvious. No amount of refusal from myself will satisfy him. I am very concerned about what method he will try to, as he writes, ‘deploy.’ I fear he will go to John.”
Trem shook his head. “While I agree that will only make the situation with John more complicated, your brother can at least be relied upon to keep quiet.”
He watched his fiancée pale.
“You think Hartley would go to the scandal sheets?”
“Perhaps. But even that is not my worst fear. My worst fear is that he would try to enact some kind of violence—some desperate scheme.”
“I had considered that,” Henrietta said, her voice quavering. “Do you think I should reply?”
“No,” Trem said, wrapping her in his arms. He could feel her heart pounding. “I will send word to Montaigne and Leith and ask them to take the matter in hand. They will make the boy see reason. It will be all right, my love.”
“But they don’t know what I have done.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he soothed her. “They wouldn’t care, either way, even if they did.”
“Leith might.”
