Five
At noon, Henrietta went out to the grounds with her mother. Mr. Hartwell was waiting for them in the rose garden which looked rather sad since all the blooms were fading and there would be no more new ones this year.
Mr. Hartwell removed his hat and bowed. “Your Grace. Lady Henrietta.”
Henrietta couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She was the one who had put him in this awful position.
“If you please, I would like to speak to Lady Henrietta alone.”
Her usually indulgent, kind mother used her sternest voice. “There’s been quite enough being alone already, don’t you think?”
“I would wish for you to see us at all times, Your Grace, just not to hear us. It’s important Lady Henrietta speak freely.”
“My daughter knows she can speak freely in front of me.”
“Then I would like to speak freely. Please, Georgiana.”
Her mother finally seemed to remember Mr. Hartwell was a friend and gave a reluctant nod and plopped herself down on a bench and opened her parasol. Mr. Hartwell offered Henrietta his arm. She took it, but she still couldn’t look at him.
After they had strolled down the gravel path a good ways away from her mother, he said, “This is unfortunate.”
Henrietta continued to stare straight ahead. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Hartwell. I hope my father was not angry with you. It was all my doing, and I was trying to tell him that. It’s not fair, at all.”
“It is an injustice that a young woman might be forced to marry to save her reputation. Especially when she is blameless.”
“Oh, but I am to blame! I am always doing hopelessly stupid things.”
He said stiffly, “You were trying to be kind to your father’s friend. That is all. I was the one who committed an unforgivable obscenity upon you. Without your permission.”
His kiss wasnotan obscenity. And, of course, she would have saidyesif he had asked to kiss her. She looked at his face finally—the dark circles under his eyes, the deeply etched grooves by his mouth—and tried to think of a way to correct him without being impolite, but he was already speaking again.
“In reparation, I pledge to protect you in any way I can, including offering for your hand. But the decision is yours, Lady Henrietta. You need not marry me. The scandal might fade in time, and you might make a match with someone more suitable.”
Was this a proposal? Henrietta swallowed. “I have had a Season already, you know.”
“You have?” He darted a look at her. “You’re a girl.”
How could he say that when there was nothing girlish about her? Tall, full-figured, and, in passing, often thought to be years older than she really was. She tossed her head, willing him to see her hair was up, not down.
“I have just become nineteen years of age. I share a birthday with your son.”
His dark eyebrows went up. “I see.”
“I was not popular during my Season. I am . . . I am too big. The fashion is for small, slender ladies.”
The eyebrows climbed even higher. “Is it?”
“And I’m not clever or funny.”
He did not contradict her. She felt more of a great lump than ever, but she wanted him to know he had not ruined her chances. They were already ruined. Nil, in fact.
“So, no matter what, I don’t think it likely I’ll find a husband.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Except a fortune-hunter who might want my dowry.”
His posture became even more rigid. “If you do me the honor of becoming my wife, I will arrange for a generous jointure from my own assets. Your dowry and the accumulated income will be held in trust separately and will also go to you in its entirety upon my death.”
“Your death?” She clutched at his arm. “Are you ill?”
“No. But I am twenty-two years older than you. God willing, I’ll die before you.”
