“You must steel yourself. There is worse news to come.”
“Worse than being trapped in the same house as my ex-fiancé?”
Ada nodded. “Are you ready?”
“Not knowing what volleys you’re about to send my way, I can only assume I am.”
“Lord Rigsby is here in attendance with a lady he’s been courting in London. Gossip says he’s going to propose to her before the party’s end.”
Curiously, the world didn’t tilt at this news. It didn’t blur. Sounds didn’t fade. Henrietta felt only her heart, small and cold inside her chest, heave a little cry no one heard or felt but her. Silly heart. It should have learned its lesson last year. “I should never have come.” It was the height of folly to return to the scene of her greatest happiness, her greatest sorrow. She hadn’t expected the unforgettable Lord Rigsby to be in attendance. She should have. And now he was engaged or very soon would be.
“You don’t have to stay,” Ada said. “You can come home with me to Cavendish Manor where all manner of hijinks will ensue. I guarantee you the children will create enough noise and chaos to jolt Lord Rigsby and his intended from your mind forever.”
Escape. It sounded lovely. But she couldn’t.
“Thank you, Ada, but will the children spend money in my shop?”
“I suppose not, but I don’t see how it signifies. I will spend money in your shop … if I ever get a season. And Nora already does.”
Henrietta stood, smoothing her skirts. “It signifies because that’s why I’m here. Hill House is the event of the season, and I mean to use it to gain patronage for my shop among the leaders of the ton. I’ve almost hooked Lady Pendleson entirely. I plan to seduce Lady Collington away from the dull shop she’s patronized her whole life, and if I’m truly skilled, before everyone returns to London, I’ll have the Duchess of Valingford ordering her daughter’s trousseau from my shop.”
“The Duchess of Valingford?”
“Lofty goals, I know, but—”
Ada stood, too, and turned Henrietta to face her. “Hen, perhaps there’s one more thing you should be made aware of.”
“Another?”
“Can you handle it?” She didn’t wait for an answer to her question. “No, you must handle it. Her grace’s daughter—she’s who Lord Rigsby is courting. Her name is Lady Willow.”
It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. “It matters not a wit, Ada.” But mercy, it did matter. She had a name and face to put alongside Lord Rigsby’s. Lady Willow was blonde as the sun and blue eyed, as tall and willowy as her namesake. A quiet beauty.
“I’m so sorry, Henrietta. He was your—”
Henrietta dropped her voice. “He’s not mine anymore, Ada. Don’t speak of it. It’s been over a year since we were together, and we never made it public.”
Ada scowled. “I know. I just—” She sighed. “Come home with me.”
Henrietta scowled. “I cannot. This is the perfect opportunity to show the most influential women in the ton how much they want to buy, no, need to buy, my father’s fabric.” She gestured down the length of her body.
Ada nodded then laughed. “The gown is stunning. And your grandfather is an earl, Hen. Surely there’s no need to make yourself miserable in order to sell your father’s wares. They’ll practically sell themselves!”
Henrietta shook her head. Her friend didn’t understand. “My grandfather may be an earl, but my father is in trade. It’s a miracle they let me through the doors.”
Ada shrugged. “I think you make more of it than anyone else does.”
“No. Who a person’s parents are, whether they spend their time building new things and acquiring money or watching people die and acquiring money, these details are what matter most.”
“A morbid and cynical way of viewing it. I suppose I’ll not convince you of anything sensible this evening.” Ada wove her arm through Henrietta’s. “We’ll stay in the conservatory then, avoid the crush in the parlor and on the lawn.”
The parlor—where Ada had said Lord Rigsby was. “No.” She looked around the room. Her grandmother, Lady Pendleson, and a handful of other women in her grandmother’s set—quiet ones, Lady Pendleson would call them—sipped tea and chatted. “The women in this room already visit my shop because of my grandmother. I must go where my gowns are needed most.”
“To a roomful of women already wearing stylish gowns?”
“Ah, but they are not as stylish as they could be. Come.” She tugged Ada toward the door with little effort. “Into the fray.” To build the most enviable clientele in London.
And most definitely not to catch a glimpse of her former fiancé.
