After her fatherenthusiastically embraced the engagement, Hetty was left to struggle with guilt. Not so for Guy. Closeted in the library with her father, the two discussed her dowry and the marriage settlement. That done, he and her father shared a joke while discussing salmon fishing and farm practices. A good deal of bonhomie and laughter floated out the door along with the smoke.
Guy emerged at last and told her of his intention to continue his daily search for his portmanteau. Whether he found it or not, he would leave for London two days hence. This time he would travel by coach with a footman riding shotgun. Hetty would see him again when she arrived at her aunt’s the following week. He smiled down at her as they said their goodbyes at the front door.
“You needn’t be quite so pleased.” She wanted him to suffer at least a twinge of guilt.
His lips curled up at the corners. She took a steadying breath. He was not her true beau, and she must never forget it.
“Goodbye, fair Hetty.” He bent his head and dropped a feather-light kiss close to the corner of her mouth as she turned her head away. “I’ll count the days until we meet in London.”
Hetty glowered at him. He’d come close to breaking the rules of their agreement already. “You will stay with Eustace in Mayfair?”
“I am invited to put up with a friend, Lord Strathairn, as my townhouse is to be sold.”
“You might improve things between you, should you stay with him.”
His eyes clouded. “I don’t believe Eustace and I shall ever be friends. Even if he is innocent, he has doubted me from the first.”
“But, Guy…”
His dark eyebrows slammed together. “I expected to be given the benefit of the doubt. You gave it, the people of Digswell have given it. Why not he?” She opened her mouth to argue in Eustace’s defense, but he placed a finger to her lips. “Hetty, I suspect as a wife you will give a man little peace.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we aren’t to marry, do you not agree?” she fired back incensed. She’d been trying to repair the rift, but maybe Guy was right. He and Eustace would never be friends.
“Mmm?” He gave her that annoyingly inscrutable look he adopted at times.
She considered it prudent to change the topic of conversation. “I wish you luck in your search. It will put paid to this uncertainty.”
When he took her hand and stroked the inside of her wrist, she could feel the fast beat of her pulse.
“I’ll have to see about a ring.”
She withdrew her hand. “There’s no need for that,” she said breathlessly. “I mean, I understood it was to be just a matter of days and made known only to Papa and Eustace. Then we can end it discreetly.”
“And leave you living with your aunt?”
“Yes.”
He frowned. “It must appear real. And remain in place until everything has been set to rights.”
Disconcerted, she tried to discern his thoughts. “But how long might that take?”
“Until my sister arrives. Unless I find my portmanteau before I leave for London.” He tilted his head. “Doesn’t a season in London appeal to you?”
“Oh, it does,” she said, excitement creeping into her voice. “London offers so much. My aunt’s poetry readings most particularly.”
He firmed his lips. “Poetry is well and good, but it pales beside life experience, Hetty.”
“And real life sometimes pales beside poetry,” she said coolly. He could be so annoying at times.
He arched an eyebrow. “That would depend on what one experienced. And with whom.”
Her cheeks heated. “Miss Fanny is in London. You might call on her. I shall give you her address.”
“I would be pleased to,” he said. “I like Miss Fanny.”
Hetty watched him ride away. London and its charms awaited her, with the promise of a visit to the museum and the Tower, art galleries and literary soirees, plays and the opera. The prospect should thrill her. Instead, she turned away troubled. She doubted they could extricate themselves from this fine mess without someone being hurt. She prayed it wouldn’t be Guy’s reputation, for a broken engagement was frowned upon, but it was more likely to be her heart.
Two weeks later, in Aunt Emily’s townhouse parlor, her aunt expressed her enthusiasm to at last have Hetty stay for a whole season. And how utterly thrilled she was at the news of the engagement. “A baron no less,” she said for the fifth time. “The aristocracy don’t generally marry gentry unless there’s money involved. It’s always a matter of finance. And surely the baron doesn’t need to fill his coffers?”
