Henry smiled. “Of course, Arabella.”
He used her given name only, for he liked the simple way it sounded upon his tongue. As if they were closer to one another than anyone else in this world.
“Thank you, Henry,” she responded in kind, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them tightly. “I know this must seem deceitful, but I have decided not to be naïve if I can help it. True, I cannot ask Lord Powell of his fortune, but there would be no harm in you finding out some details.”
Henry stared down at her hands, holding his. “You are sure of him? He is the one you are set on, though you have barely explored Society’s possibilities?”
“I do not yet know,” she admitted. “Your help will go some way toward aiding me in making that decision. If his claims are false, I will have to look elsewhere.” She hastened to add, “Not because he is without fortune, but because he has lied, you understand?”
“Of course.”
She made a quiet noise of relief. “Although, no matter what, I will be glad to have someone like you as my accomplice.” She squeezed his hands again, though it felt like her fingertips were squeezing his chest instead. “As soon as opportunity arises, I will endeavor to find the perfect young lady to be your wife.”
Holding Arabella’s shining gaze, and feeling her tender grasp, Henry’s stomach sank. Seeing her like this, so beautiful, so engaging, so humorous, so hopeful, he was not entirely convinced that he had not already found her.
It seemed a gift had been given to him, and he had foolishly handed it back.
Chapter Thirteen
“He likes you,” Cassie said sagely, as they basked in the shade of cherry blossoms. The hour had just gone one o’clock in the afternoon, and Henry had not long departed back to London.
Arabella’s eyes flew open. “Pardon?”
“Lord Haskett. He likes you.”
Arabella lurched forward on the woolen blanket they were using in place of chairs. “He is my brother’s oldest friend. He likely sees me as a sister or wishes to see that I make a good choice for Seth’s sake. After all, if there is a scandal, it will be much harder for him to marry.”
“No. He likes you,” Cassie insisted, opening her eyes and flashing a knowing smile. “While you’ve been buried in your novels, I’ve seen what real men are like. I know when one has taken a fancy to a girl, and Lord Haskett has taken a keen fancy to you, Milady.”
Arabella snorted in disbelief. “What tosh! He might not be pulling out my ribbons or rubbing grass into my gown or tripping me up anymore, but he has as little affection for me now as he did then.”
“Did he not buy ribbons to replace the ones he stole?” Cassie grinned.
“Yes, as ajoke!” Arabella urged, wondering where this was coming from.
It was true that Henry had been remarkably sweet and gentlemanly, after they had overcome the mess of Lord Chisholm’s ball. He had been the first to respond when she fainted, and he had been quick to apologize when tears were burning her eyes at Lord Talbot’s house, even if she had not stuck around to listen.
And the way he played that pianoforte…
The grace of his hands upon the keys, the fluidity of his movements as he swayed to the music, the luscious, rich baritone of his voice which she had heard upon entering the townhouse, the way he had closed his eyes as though nothing mattered but him and the instrument… It would have made anyone swoon, especially someone with a particular admiration for beautiful hands.
Cassie cackled. “Then how do you explain the parcel that is waiting for you in the library?”
“Parcel? What parcel?” Arabella flicked a cherry blossom from her shoulder.
Cassie gestured toward the manor. “Henry asked one of the footmen to deliver it for you, though he insisted it be left in the libraryafterhe had departed. I wasn’t supposed to hear, but you know what I’m like. I’ve got the ears of a bat.”
“It is probably another one of his jests,” Arabella protested, while a bristle of curiosity kept her gaze fixed on the French doors that led into the library.
Cassie shook her head. “Sorry to be blunt, Milady, but I don’t think so. You should’ve seen his face when he made the request. He looked so nervous I was worried how he was going to get up onto his horse.”
“Nervous? Are we speaking of the same gentleman?” Arabella scoffed. “I doubt Henry could be nervous if there was a pack of wild dogs surrounding him, and he was slicked in bacon grease.”
Cassie shrugged. “I saw what I saw, Milady. You can believe me or not.” She smiled. “The same goes for him liking you. And, while I’m speaking my mind without being scolded, I don’t think you should put so much weight into this flirtation with Lord Powell.”
“Why is that?” Arabella could find nothing disagreeable in the handsome gentleman. Even though he had been at the very opposite end of the dining table, and could not have been the direct cause of her distress, he had still come to call upon her and check how she was faring.
A soft, reluctant sigh escaped Cassie’s lips. “I hate to sound like His Grace and Her Grace, but he’s a Baron. Unless he owns half of the merchant ships in the country, he’ll never be a suitable choice for you.” She offered an apologetic glance. “If you were to elope out of love, there would be no place for you anywhere. It would break my heart to see that, especially when you are already betrothed to a fine gentleman who obviously likes you very much.”
