“Take Henry with you.”
Shock flooded her system; her heart gave an unpleasant lurch. “Excuse me?”
“If anyone is going to be capable of protecting you, it’ll be him. And I must invite him. It would be strange if I did not.”
“I won’t marry him.” She held up a warning finger. “If that’s your plan, you can abandon it now. If he wants to marry for a fortune, he’s welcome to Miss Winton’s.”
“And I’m certain if he had any intention of marrying you, he would ask,” George said dryly. “Those are my terms.”
“If I agree to your inviting Henry, you’ll agree?”
“And so long as you don’t attempt anything dangerous on your own.”
“But you’ll do this for me?” she pressed. “Host the house party and invite him?”
“God help me,” he said, and extended a hand. “Let us hope neither of us regret it.”
Chapter Twelve
Worthington Hall, Comerford’s estate and his father’s seat, was in Yorkshire, and Louisa set off in style with Caroline—another potential ally, if occasion demanded. Louisa was not in the habit of offering her secrets fully, but she knew if she confessed the whole to Caroline, she at least would find it uproariously funny and not think the worse of her.
There was a lot to be said for friendships like that.
“Do you know,” Caroline said conversationally, “this is the first house party I’ve attended since my husband’s death, the Lord dispose of his soul.”
“The first in eight years?”
“I’m practically a recluse, darling.”
That wasn’t true, but it was true that Caroline hadn’t been so lucky as to inherit her husband’s fortune; a distant relative had swooped in to claim it, and in addition to being a little tinged by scandal, she was frequently strapped for funds. “Well, you may thank me, if you like,” Louisa said.
“Will it be scandalous, do you suppose?”
“By your standards? Unlikely. Half the ladies invited are unmarried.”
“Oh, that means nothing. I remember whenIwas an unmarried lady.” Caroline glanced out of the windows at the countryside slowly folding by, grey after a dreary winter. “What of the gentlemen? Who else is invited besides Mr Comerford and your Lord Eynsham?”
“He is notmyanything,” Louisa said, and levelled a finger at Caroline. “And you leave George Comerford alone. He’s looking for a wife.”
“As it happens, I made an exceedingly good wife.”
“Ayoungwife.”
“Oh, you’re no fun.” Caroline pouted. “What of your young man? Still as sober and strict as ever?”
She thought of the way he had pressed her against the wall, breath hot against her skin. The way he’d had some ludicrous intention of confronting Knight in his own home.
The way he had blushed in the tavern.
Her own reaction had been that of a girl unused to intimacy, at once alarmed and compelled. In that moment, she had wanted to kiss him again, to see if he would kiss her back. Wanted to be his undoing, the reason he forgot his morals, the reason he yielded his iron control.
It was a dangerous urge, toeing that line between love and hate with such precision that she hardly knew which side she fell on.
“I imagine he is much as he once was,” she said, reminding herself that he had been a man who’d abandoned her when she had needed him the most. Whatever his reasons, however noble, the end result had been the same. She would be a fool to trust him again, no matter what he claimed his intentions were.
Worthington Hall finally came into view after two full days of travelling, the afternoon sun bathing the pale walls in gold.
“Well, if you take my advice, you’ll get him out of your system or forget about him for good,” Caroline said as they came to a stop before the front door. A footman hurried out to greet them. “It’s unseemly to be pining over a man for this long, darling.”
