If it wasn’t a declaration of love, it was very close to it. A luminous glow of happiness threaded through her as the carriage pulled up in King Street.
As he placed his hand on the door latch, she stopped him. She didn’t want him to leave her, to go off to face danger without her. “What are you planning to do?”
“Strathairn is making inquiries.”
She remembered John’s hard gaze. “Lord Strathairn would be a good man to have on your side, I should think.”
“He has made some useful connections during his years away at war,” Guy said. “You’re right, a better man at my back I couldn’t find.” Guy opened the door. “I have accepted an invitation for you and your aunt to Lady Bloxham’s rout on Saturday. You met her at Lady Eleanor’s soiree, remember?”
“I look forward to it.” Hetty remembered the lady only too well. She’d looked through Hetty as if she hadn’t been there.
“I’ll call for you both on Saturday evening,ma cherie.”
Hetty hurried inside, aware that her lips were swollen from his kisses. Her aunt appeared on the stairs in her dressing gown and nightcap. “Your gown is rumpled, and your hair is coming down. I trust that you behaved with decorum.”
Her aunt’s voice lacked conviction, Hetty thought. “Guy has invited us both to a rout on Saturday at Lady Bloxham’s.”
Her aunt followed Hetty up the stairs. “Oh well, that is nice indeed. I’ve met Lady Bloxham. She is a devotee of the romantic poets. I shall be pleased to spend time in her company.”
Hetty shut her door. It had been such an extraordinary evening, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. What had Guy found in Eustace’s library? What did he keep from her? But most pressing was the need to know he loved her. She had witnessed his desire, but men were made that way, were they not? While his words were designed to put her at ease, she still didn’t know his true feelings or intentions.
Chapter Sixteen
At breakfast AuntEmily raised her eyebrows when Hetty told her Guy was escorting Lady Georgina to a ball.
Aunt Emily buttered her toast. “I shouldn’t worry about Guy’s feelings for you,” she said. “Judging by the state you were in last evening.” She made a clucking sound with her tongue and shook her head. “Perhaps I should be more diligent as chaperone.”
Hetty frowned. “Lady Georgina is an earl’s daughter, and she’s pretty.”
“Lady Georgina is young and caper-witted. She has been kept in cotton wool and is a trifle spoiled.” Aunt Emily reached for the jam. “Guy speaks ardently of his plans to make improvements to his estate. I suspect he intends to get his hands dirty in the process. He would want a wife who wished to spend a good deal of the year in the country. He has too much sense to marry a young lady who would prefer a coxcomb for a husband.”
“Sense doesn’t always feature into one’s decision to marry,” Hetty said, stirring her tea.
Her appetite had deserted her after a restless night. An ominous feeling seemed to hang over her. It was what Guy hadn’t said that worried her most. But she’d seen no evidence that Guy wished to become a fashionable leader of society. She’d begun to understand him, his faults as well as the finer points of his character. He would seek to protect her, something she valued but also annoyed her. He would be a stalwart friend to the last, but he was unequivocal in his demand for loyalty from others. She suspected Guy would never forgive Eustace for doubting him even if he was proved innocent of any crime. Guy had come into her life shattering her dull existence. Sometimes lying in bed at night, it all seemed like a dream, from the moment she first saw him lying on the road.
She loved his passion, his humor, his masculine pride and would trust him with her life. What would the future hold for her without him? It seemed a dreary prospect.
*
The valet putdown his brush. “All done, my lord.”
“Thank you, Hobson.”
Guy had borrowed John’s valet to ensure he was suitably attired. He was grateful for all Strathairn had done and continued to do for him. But Guy hated being watched. He was confident he could handle himself well in a crisis. It galled him that he was seen to be an enemy of England and that John acted on instructions from Sidmouth, the Home Secretary.
Guy left the bedchamber and made his way down the staircase to the salon. He was glad of his decision not to enlighten Hetty about the cloud which now hovered over his head. It would be impossible to reassure her, she’d want to know every detail, and he refused to have her involved.
He’d hoped the Bow Street runner would unravel the mystery; but as yet, he’d turned up nothing, and the mystery of the Frenchman who wanted him dead only deepened. Was this to do with Forney’s letter?
John awaited him in the salon. “Care for a whiskey to fortify you? These affairs seldom offer spirits.”
“Thank you.” Guy took the proffered drink.
“There’s a gentleman I hope will offer marriage to Georgina,” John said. “It’s my hope that she’ll realize the great advantages that come with it.”
“Isn’t she a little young?”
“She turns eighteen soon. Many marry at that age.”
