Tobias rode up beside them as the groom mounted Henrietta’s horse and they all wound their way away from the park. “Well, Hen, say hello to Mother and Father for me.”
She cast her brother a questioning look.
“When you get home to Manchester, give them my warm greetings. A little warmer for Mother, of course.”
“I’m not going to Manchester!”
“Someone’s out to harm you, Hen, and I’ll pack you away for safety like the good china.”
“I’m not a plate or a soup bowl!”
“Hen,” Grayson whispered in her ear, twining their fingers together. He liked the idea of sending her to Manchester just fine. An excellent plan. “For a little while only, until we figure out who goaded Stubly and his crew into attacking you. No more than a week, then I’m coming for you.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to be away from her much more than a week, anyway.
“There are roads to Manchester, you know.”
“What does that mean?” Tobias barked.
But Grayson knew. He felt the fear deep in the pit of his belly.
“I’m as vulnerable to attack there as I am here, you fool.”
Tobias ground his teeth together. “But if no one knows where you are to begin with, they can’t attack you.”
“I’m not going to Manchester.”
“Yes, you are,” Tobias insisted.
“Please?” Grayson peered down at Henrietta, warmly ensconced on his lap. “I’d like to feel you’re safe while we sort this out.”
Her eyes flashed steely blue. “I was scared of what Lady Valingford could do to me, to those I love.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
“But I’m not scared now.” She twisted in his lap and lifted her face to his, then gifted him a kiss—short, but infinitely sweet and full of promise.
His heart beat a panicked rhythm inside his chest. She may not be scared, but he was.
Chapter 26
Henrietta watched two strapping footmen lift her trunk onto the coach arranged to cart her off to dreary Manchester. She tugged her gloves on, straightening the fingers, and fidgeted with the bow beneath her chin. If she was going into exile, she would do so in style—back straight, head held high, and bonnet ribbons just so. She would descend the stairs and enter the coach as if she were a queen. Once inside, she would pull the blinds so no one could see her melt into the puddle of frustrated tears that seemed to be her permanent state of existence since yesterday afternoon.
She looked up at the still-dark sky. She knew stars shone behind the clouds of smog hovering over London, but she could not imagine them this morning. She saw only shadows hiding danger.
“Are you ready, love?” Grandmama asked, puffing up behind her while towing a groggy Grandpapa—still rubbing his eyes yet—behind her.
“Of course.” Best to sound decided, energized even, as if it had all been her own idea. Exiled to Manchester. Huzzah. Even if it was for her own safety, she couldn’t appreciate the sentiment. In fact, running into hiding made her feel like the coward Grandpapa had called her. He’d said to face down the storm. Had he been right? She’d faced it down yesterday to disastrous results. She turned to Grandpapa. “Is this the right course of action? Yesterday, you said—”
He jerked out of sleep as quickly as a hand pricked by a needle. “Yesterday morning, we were unaware a mysterious duchess wished you dead. I don’t understand. What other duchess so dislikes you but Valingford’s wife, and yet, when we tracked the duke down at the club last night, he told the truth, I could tell. His wife has spread no gossip. They kept their word.”
Grandmama hid a yawn behind her hand. “And at the Henrickson ball last evening, there was not a word said about you, Henrietta, dear.”
Grandpapa scratched his head and stared into the fog. “Someone’s after you, Hen. Circumstances have changed. Gossip is one thing. Murder is another.”
She hated Manchester. The smog rivaled London, and her parents would forever be trying to marry her off to the nearest rich merchant’s son. But her grandfather had a point. Murder was not a concept to be trifled with. Besides, she was off the marriage mart now, so her parents couldn’t pester her about that. Grayson had not yet proposed, of course, but after their interlude at Hill House, after his refusal to marry Lady Willow, after yesterday in the park, her heart knew what his heart wanted. Her heart wanted it, too. “I might as well get something for all this trouble,” she grumbled. If it is was Grayson, all the better.
Beside her, Grandmama shivered, pulling her wrap tight. “In you go, love,” she said, scooting Henrietta gently toward the waiting carriage. “We’ll miss you, but you’ll be back soon, I’m positive.”
Henrietta resisted, digging her heels into the ground. “Aren’t Tobias and Lord Rigsby coming to see me off?”
