Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Papa?”
Henrietta gazed at him over the table. They’d both been silent during breakfast.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He put down his cup, looking as downcast as she was.
“Can I come with you to the country?”
His eyes widened. “Of course. I must say I’m surprised. Don’t you want to stay in London?”
“Christian… and I have decided not to be wed.”
Anthony put his cup into its saucer with a clatter. “Surely he didn’t cry off?”
“It was decided between us.”
He frowned. “You two seemed perfectly suited. What happened?”
She poked at the bread roll on the plate with her knife. She had no appetite to eat it. “I guess we weren’t.”
“I don’t understand this, Hetta.”
“I’m tired. I need a rest before the rush of social engagements becomes too hectic.” Her voice trembled. “I’ve explained to Aunt Gabrielle that I’d like to go home.”
He threw down his napkin and rose from the table. Came over to raise her chin and gaze into her eyes. “If that is what you want. Tell your maid to pack. We’ll leave this afternoon.”
He walked to the door.
“Papa?”
He turned, a hand resting on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“What about Verity?”
He shook his head. “If misery likes company, you and I shall make a good pair, Hetta.” He walked out the door.
* * *
Christian supervised his valet’s last-minute packing of the few necessities he allowed himself to take to France. A servant knocked at the door. “Lord Beaumont waits downstairs, sir.”
He had expected as much. He could not lie to his friend and only hoped to rely on his discretion. He walked downstairs, buttoning his coat. The butler stood at the open door. “The carriage awaits, sir,” he said.
Christian entered the sitting room where Anthony walked a path on the rug. He swung to face him, his eyes lacking their usual warmth.
Christian fingered his hat. “How is Henrietta?”
“She’s upset. She’s accompanying me to the country.”
Christian gave a strained smile. He threw his hat down and waved him into a chair. “Hear me out, Anthony before you’re tempted to draw my cork.”
After he had explained what had transpired concern softened Anthony’s brown eyes. “Do you really believe Hetta would prefer it this way?”
“I don’t know. I’m about to leave the country. If I were to tell her the truth, she would wait for me,” He sighed. “And if I failed to return, she’d mourn me when she should be enjoying her life. I don’t want that.” He drew a deep breath. “She’ll meet many suitable men. She’s young, and adorable.”
“She loves you.”
“Time will take care of that.”
