Hetty threw off the offending clothes, tucking them back into their hiding place in the clothespress. She glanced at her bed, which of course had not been slept in. Sally would say nothing to give her away. Hastily buttoning her morning gown, she left the room. She hurried down the corridor, hearing her father’s purposeful tread on the stairs.
“Why does no one know where my daughter is? I have news.Horatia?”
She met him on the landing. “Here I am, Papa. What’s amiss? Did you have a good trip?”
“My trip was satisfactory. I’ve been home for fifteen minutes. Why did you not come to greet me? Have you been in your chamber all morning?” He sat his pince-nez on his nose to study her. Through them, his magnified gray eyes looked suspicious. “I smell wood smoke! Have you had your fire lit again? I don’t like that unhealthy bloom in your cheeks.”
“I was reading and didn’t hear you arrive.”
“You’ve been reading? I hope it’s not that fellow Byron’s poetry again. I’ve heard distressing rumors… Oh well, never mind that. Why don’t you read Pope? Now’s there’s a poet. But I digress. We have been invited to dinner this Saturday!”
“How agreeable, Papa, where?”
“Lady Kemble.” He beamed and tucked his thumbs into the plaid waistcoat that strained over his stomach. “I’m sure you’re as pleased as I am. She always puts on a splendid dinner.”
“Yes, she does.”
He held up a finger. “Wait until I tell you all. Lady Kemble plans to invite Lord Fortescue. The sixth baron that is. At long last, he’s arriving from France to set his estates to rights.”
Hetty chewed her bottom lip. “I see.”
Her father rubbed his hands. “She is to kill the fatted calf in his honor.”
She followed him down the stairs. “I’m not sure if I’ll be well enough by then. I fear I am coming down with a cold. My head aches.”
“What? But you always wish for more society! Of course, you have a headache, reading all morning in that overheated chamber of yours. Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes! You’ve had the fire lit, when it’s sunny out.”
“Papa it’s been snowing. We had a violent storm last night.”
“I know about that, but it’s passed over now, and the sun is shining. Come and have a cup of tea, that will fix your headache. If it doesn’t, have Mrs. Bentwood make you a tisane.”
Short of being on her deathbed, Hetty accepted that her father wouldn’t take no for an answer. She sighed as they entered the breakfast room. But she was hungry, having missed dinner last night.
“Wear that gown the color of a new penny which suits your lovely hair, so very like your mother’s,” he added in a wistful tone. He eyed her askance. “I’m not sure I like the way you’re wearing it today.”
Hetty put her hand to her hair. Drat. She’d forgotten she’d dragged it back to wear under the hat. It must look like a fright. “It was an experiment, Papa, a new style in a fashion magazine.”
“Hmm. Don’t care for it. Well, there’s naught that can take away from your looks, Horatia, but you should embellish them, my dear.” He put his hand to the fringe of graying hair that clustered around his ears. “A few curls, you know, the way women do.”
“Very well, Papa. I’ll tell Sally to arrange it like that.”
Hetty settled at the table and poured them both a cup of tea from the teapot. When the maid brought toast, she buttered a piece and added strawberry jam. She took a bite, but at the thought of meeting the baron again, she almost choked. She had to admit the prospect was exciting. He was the most fascinating man she’d ever met, although, by his own admission, he had been a rake, as was his father in his youth. It was his intention to marry and have his heir, but would that put an end to his rakish ways?
He would have left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Even if she was a suitable choice of bride for him, which she was not, being gentry, he would not break hers. She had the advantage of being forewarned.
Chapter Five
Despite Hetty’s wishthat Saturday never come, it arrived to deepen her anguish. In the afternoon, Fanny Kemble came to visit in her carriage. She hurried into the house wearing a fur-trimmed blue pelisse and bonnet, a hand thrust into a matching fur muff.
“Fanny, how nice you look. Come into the parlor. I’ll ring for tea.”
“I had to promise to be home by four, otherwise, Mother would not have let me come. But I couldn’t wait to tell you the news,” Fanny said. “Lord Fortescue called on us yesterday, and Mama’s invited him for dinner and there’s to be dancing afterward.”
Sarah brought the tea tray in.
Hetty poured the tea into cups. She wanted to share her secret with Fanny, but, dear practical Fanny would think her mad, and she couldn’t always be relied on to keep a secret. Not that she would deliberately hurt a living soul, but her inherently honest nature made it impossible to keep things to herself.
She often wished she was more like Fanny who knew exactly what she wanted from the moment she left the schoolroom. A home and a family. Fanny was bound to marry soon as her Aunt Caroline was to chaperone Fanny for the London season.
