Aware she was chattering to break the troubled silence, Henrietta told him of her uncle’s plight and her fears that her father would go to France. He listened without interruption.
He nodded. “I hope your uncle will soon arrive.”
He hadn’t told her she was foolish to worry.
The carriage stopped outside her Aunt’s house in Grosvenor Square, and he assisted her down the steps.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Henrietta said. She wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her. The kiss from a rake would give her something exciting to dream about after a horrid, disappointing night. But such an event didn’t seem likely.
And he did look handsome and rakish, with his hat in his hand, his raven black hair, and serious blue eyes, the crimson domino swept back over his shoulder. “Do take care. London is a dangerous place for a young lady from the country,” he said. Instead of a kiss she got a lecture. Henrietta gazed back at him crestfallen.
Mr. Hartley must have read the disappointment in her eyes. He smiled. A lovely smile which made her pulse race. He took her chin in his hand, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. Then, as he’d forgotten himself, he drew away. “But do enjoy your first Season, Lady Henrietta. You will be a great success. I’m sorry I can’t help your uncle. But if you should need help while I’m here in London, send a note to forty-five Brook Street.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hartley.”
As she climbed the steps, she glanced over her shoulder and watched him enter the carriage. He’d been kind. She liked that he hadn’t offered empty words of sympathy. She rubbed her lip where he’d touched it. The carriage disappeared, back to Vauxhall, where a woman would be awaiting him, more interesting than her. A world he seemed to prefer. She sighed and turned to the door.
Henrietta was admitted by the stern, uppity butler, who looked grave. He had no way of knowing that she hadn’t been brought home by Lady Montague. When his back was turned, she screwed up her nose and ascended the stairs. Two of the servants whispered in a corner. They saw her and scurried away leaving an air of tension behind them.
With a sense of foreboding, Henrietta leaned over the rail and addressed the butler below. “Has my aunt retired for the evening?”
“She is unwell, Lady Henrietta,” he called up. “The doctor is with her.”
Heart thudding, Henrietta ran to her aunt’s bedchamber. She found the doctor leaving the room. He came to her, his eyes grave. “Your aunt has had a bad turn which may have been brought on by the events of this evening.”
Henrietta gasped. “Is it my fault?” Had her Aunt discovered her trip to Vauxhall?
She sank onto one of the Queen Anne chairs in the hall fighting tears.
“No, Lady Henrietta. The news of her brother’s plight, and then your father leaving immediately for France…”
Henrietta’s mind went blank with shock. She found the doctor was patting her hand. “My father’s gone to France?”
“I believe so.”
“May I see my aunt?”
“Tomorrow. She is sleeping. Go to bed, you need your rest too.”
Her maid waited in her bedchamber. “Molly, have you heard the terrible news about my aunt?”
“I have.” She hurried over. “There’ll be good news tomorrow I’m sure. Let’s get you into your night things.”
Henrietta sidestepped her. “I know how the servants talk. Tell me what you know about my father.”
“He left a few hours ago. It was right after a message arrived from France. It was after he’d driven away that your aunt fell ill.”
“Have you heard what they do in France, Molly?” Henrietta stalked about the room, her stomach churning. “They cut off people’s heads.”
“Surely not an English lord? Isn’t it the French aristocrats that are guillotined?”
Henrietta’s skirts swished about her as she walked. “Papa married into a French aristocratic family. Both he and my Uncle Philippe have spoken out against this murderous revolution. Now, they will both be on French soil!”
Molly placed an arm around Henrietta’s shoulders, trying to calm her. “In the servants’ hall the talk was all about that letter from France that so alarmed your aunt and your father.”
“I need to see that letter, Molly.”
Molly’s eyes widened. “I’ve no idea where it is. Your father may have taken it with him.”
