Page 98 of The Language of Love

Henry thanked Mr. and Mrs. Bowman for hosting the meal, but, other than that, he didn’t have a soul to bid goodbye to.

Well, other than Colin.

But his erstwhile employee was so busy gazing longingly at Susanna Bowman that Henry doubted he would even hear him.

Colin had done his best over the past week to court the younger Bowman sister, but he was no match for Mrs. Bowman, who had made sure that Colin never had a dance or conversation with Susanna.

“I’m at wit’s end, my lord,” Colin had whined just two days ago. “And so is Susanna. Her last message to me suggested Gretna Green.”

Henry was pleasantly surprised that the object of Colin’s affections reciprocated his regard, but he had cringed at Colin’s pronouncement.

“You may take her wherever you like, Parker. But you will wait at least a week after I’ve left London before you do anything. I don’t want to give your prospective mother-in-law reason to hate me any more than she does. You also might want to consider whether Miss Bowman will agree to live at Rotherhithe House with you.” It was the gentlest way he could think of to remind the man that he had neither a job nor a home at this point.

“She said that she’d live in a mud hut as long as she was with me. Can you credit that, my lord?”

No, Henry couldn’t. But he’d kept that to himself. He’d also kept to himself any skepticism he felt at the thought of Miss Susanna Bowman living in Rotherhithe House while it was undergoing restoration.

But Henry had developed a soft spot for the man, so he’d given Colin permission to live in the house as long as he liked, with or without a wife—although he’d asked Flitwick first.

“But my lord… it is your house. You may do whatever you wish,” his startled butler had assured him.

“You shall have to put up with him,” Henry had pointed out. “And I daresay Mrs. Flitwick shall have to care for him like a baby chick, so let me know whether you wish me to chuck him out before I leave.”

Flitwick had looked so horrified at the suggestion that Henry realized the old servant was yet another person who Colin had effortlessly wrapped around his little finger. Henry wouldn’t have really chucked him out, but it had been amusing to tease the unexpectedly soft-hearted Flitwick.

As much as Henry liked Colin, he was glad that he no longer had to spend all his days and nights with the man.

While Henry couldn’t wait to get away from his only wedding guest, Annis was visibly heartbroken to say goodbye to her friends.

Not only Lady Sedgwick and Lord Avington but also the two who’d unexpectedly made the trip to London at the last moment, Miss Lorelei Fontenot and Lady Broughton, who’d come with her husband, the Earl of Broughton.

Henry had been surprised to discover that he’d done business with Broughton in the past, but knew him as Eustace Harrington, owner of a sizeable shipping company based in Bristol, which he’d built himself, before inheriting his title.

He’d not had much of a chance to speak to Broughton, but what he’d learned about him—that he was practical and not high-in-the-instep—he liked.

“Hello, Rotherhithe.”

Henry turned to find Avington standing beside him. The man’s words were friendly enough, but his gaze was cool.

“Hello, Avington,” Henry said, just as coolly.

Miles had only spoken to Henry once this past week, even though the two of them had crossed paths frequently. Their single conversation had taken place at the Asquith ball and had been hostile and to the point.

“Ah, Rotherhithe, just the man I’ve been looking for,” Avington had said.

Henry had taken one look into Avington’s cold, flat eyes and had guessed what was coming. “Well, here I am, my lord.”

“Perhaps we might step onto the terrace for a moment?” He had turned without waiting for an answer.

Avington had led Henry out through the French doors, onto the terrace, waiting until they were well away from the house before speaking. “If your asinine masquerade makes any problems for Lady Sedgwick, you’ll be answering to me, my lord.”

That had not been what Henry had expected the other man to say, and he’d been momentarily speechless before replying. “I’ve already told the countess to inform me if she encounters any difficulties.”

“If only it were as simple as that, Rotherhithe, but the ton doesn’t always show its disapproval in overt ways.”

Henry knew that was true. As unfair as it was, the Prince Regent’s vocal approval of Henry’s masquerade had not only absolved him of any wrongdoing, but it had brought him into fashion.

The same was not true for the Countess of Sedgwick. His thoughtless behavior had jeopardized Lady Sedgwick’s credibility and threatened her livelihood.