“You dare speak to me with such impudence and disrespect?”
“I dare to shoot ya if ya don’t scram.”
Stubly looked as if he might barrel forward and tackle Thomas to the ground. But in the end, the light drained from his eyes, he pulled his hat low over his brow, and he stumbled after his friends.
Thomas watched him, then turned to Henrietta. “Are you okay, miss?”
“Yes, Thomas. Thank you.”
“Yer not okay,” he said, eyes grim.
“I am. I promise”
“Yer cryin’.”
She reached up to her cheeks. Oh, she was crying. The realization unleashed a torrent inside of her, and her tears shed faster, more violently, until she was sobbing, hiccupping.
“There, there.” Thomas patted her shoulder awkwardly, then placed her atop Lemon like she was a straw doll. “Chin up. We gotta walk through the gauntlet to get ye home. Don’t let ’em see ya shiver, miss.”
She pulled herself up tall and wiped her eyes. No, she’d not let them see her shiver, no matter what they did to her.
Chapter 25
The park was an intimidating crush of silks and satins, parasols and stovepipes, from Rotten Row to the Lady’s Mile, but Grayson pushed Trott into it anyway.
“I don’t see why we couldn’t have waited for Hen at home,” Tobias said, pushing into the crowd alongside Grayson. “Grandpapa has particularly good scotch.”
“Of which you’ve had enough today.”
“I’ve not had any scotch today. Brandy, yes, but not scotch.”
“Keep your eyes peeled, Tobias.” He wanted to tell Henrietta as soon as he could—it was all over except their future together.
“I think that’s Lemon.”
“Henrietta’s mare?”
“Right there.”
Grayson swung in the direction Tobias pointed. It did look like Lemon, but where was Henrietta?
Tobias cupped his hands over his eyes. “And, look, there’s her groom walking into the copse of trees.”
A bullet of dread lodged itself in Grayson’s gut. “But where’s Henrietta?”
“I don’t know.” Tobias nudged his horse toward the trees and Grayson followed, but a barouche rolled between them, impeding Grayson’s progress. He tipped his hat to the woman in the conveyance. “Good day, Lady Paddington.”
“Hello, Lord Rigsby, how is your father?”
“Fine,” he bit off, peering over her shoulder at Tobias.
“Are we to expect a happy announcement soon?” Lady Paddington clasped her hands together and sent him a knowing grin.
“Yes, actually.” Grayson stepped to the side to circle around her.
She clapped. “It will be the wedding of the century!”
“Grayson,” Tobias called, irritation, urgency, lacing his voice.
