Minx (25 page)

And just in time, too, because the carriage rolled to a halt, and Dunford said flatly, "We're here."

Henry wanted nothing more than to just go home.

All the way back to Cornwall.

Chapter 14

Henry held her head high as Dunford helped her down from the carriage. It nearly broke her heart when his hand touched hers, but she was learning how to keep her emotions off her face. If Dunford happened to glance her way, all he would see was a perfectly composed visage, with no sign of grief or anger—but with no sign of happiness either.

They had just alighted when the Blackwoods' carriage arrived behind them. Henry watched as John helped Belle down. Belle immediately rushed to her side, not bothering to wait while Alex disembarked. "What's wrong?" she exclaimed, noting Henry's uncharacteristically tense face.

"Nothing," Henry lied.

But Belle heard the hollowness in her voice. "Obviously something is wrong."

"It's nothing, really. I'm just nervous, that's all."

Belle rather doubted Henry could have grown quite that nervous during the short carriage ride. She shot a withering glare in Dunford's direction. He immediately turned away and struck up a conversation with John and Alex.

"What did he do to you?" Belle whispered angrily.

"Nothing!"

"If that is true," Belle said as she gave her a look indicating she didn't for a second believe it was, "then you still had best compose yourself immediately before we go in."

"I am composed," Henry protested. "I don't think I have ever been quite this composed in my life."

"Then un-compose yourself." Belle took Henry's hands in an urgent embrace. "Henry, I've never seen your eyes look so dead. I'm sorry to have to say it that way, but it's the truth. There is nothing to fear. Everyone will love you. Just go in there and be yourself." She paused. "Except for the cursing."

A reluctant smile quivered on Henry's lips.

"And leave off talk of farming," Belle added quickly. "Especially that bit about the pig."

Henry could feel the sparkle returning to her eyes. "Oh, Belle, I do love you. You have been such a good friend."

"You make it very easy," Belle returned, giving her hands an affectionate squeeze. "Are you ready? Good. Dunford and Alex are going to escort you in together. That should ensure you make a big splash. Before Alex married, they were the two most eligible gentlemen in the country."

"But Dunford didn't even have a title."

"It didn't matter. The ladies wanted him anyway."

Henry understood all too well why. But he didn't want her. At least not in any permanent way. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her as she glanced at him. She suddenly felt an overwhelming need to prove to herself that she was worthy of love, even if Dunford did not agree. Her chin moved up a notch, and a dazzling smile crossed her face. "I'm ready, Belle. I am going to have a lovely time."

Belle looked slightly taken aback by Henry's sudden vehemence. "Let's be on our way then. Dunford! Alex! John! We're ready to go in."

The three gentlemen reluctantly broke off their conversation, and Henry found herself flanked by Dunford and Alex. She felt terribly small; both men were a good inch over six feet and rather broad through the shoulders. She knew she was going to be the envy of every lady in the ballroom; she hadn't met too many men of the ton, but surely most of them lacked the sheer virility of the three men in her party.

They made their way inside and waited in line for the butler to announce them. Without even realizing it, Henry began to move closer and closer to Alex's side, pulling away from Dunford. Finally Alex leaned down and whispered, "Are you all right, Henry? It's almost our turn."

Henry turned and flashed him the same stunning smile she'd just used on Belle. "I am perfect, your grace. Perfect. I am going to slay London. I shall have the ton at my feet."

Dunford heard her words and stiffened, pulling her back toward him. "Watch what you do, Henry," he whispered cuttingly. "It wouldn't do for you to make your entrance draped over Ashbourne. It's common knowledge he's devoted to his wife."

"Don't worry," she returned with an insincere grin. "I won't embarrass you. And I promise to be off your hands as soon as possible. I shall endeavor to have dozens of marriage proposals. By next week if I can."

Alex had an idea what was going on, and his lips twitched. He was not so honorable that he was not enjoying Dunford's distress.

"Lord and Lady Blackwood!" the butler boomed.

Henry's breath caught in her throat. They were next.

Alex nudged her playfully and whispered, "Smile."

"His grace, the Duke of Ashbourne! Lord Stannage! Miss Henrietta Barrett!"

A hush fell over the crowd. Henry was not so vain and deluded as to think the ton had lost their voices over her incomparable beauty, but she did know that they were all dying to get a look at the lady who'd somehow managed to make her debut on the arms of two of the most desirable men in Britain.

The five friends then made their way over to Caroline, further ensuring Henry's success by proclaiming to the world that the influential Countess of Worth was sponsoring her.

Within minutes Henry was surrounded by young men and women, all eager to make her acquaintance. The men were curious—who was this unknown female and how had she managed to snare the attention of both Dunford and Ashbourne? (The on-dit that she was Dunford's legal ward had yet to circulate.) The women were even more curious—for exactly the same reason.

Henry laughed and flirted, teased and sparkled. By sheer force of will she managed to push Dunford from her mind. She pretended each man she met was Alex or John, and each woman was Belle or Caroline. This mental ruse allowed her to relax and be herself—and once she did that, people warmed to her instantly.

"She is a breath of fresh air," Lady Jersey declared, not caring in the least that she was being terribly trite.

Dunford overheard this comment and tried to be proud of his ward, but he couldn't manage it over the irritating possessiveness he felt every time some young fop kissed her hand. And that was nothing compared to the searing spurts of jealousy that rocked through him every time she smiled at one of the many older, more experienced men who also flocked to her side.

Caroline was just now introducing her to the Earl of Billington, a man he usually liked and respected. Damn it, that was the same cheeky smile she usually gave him. Dunford made a mental note not to sell Billington the prized Arabian he'd been nosing after all spring.

"I see your ward has made quite a killing."

Dunford turned his head to see Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott. "Lady Wolcott," he said, lazily inclining his head.

"She's quite a success."

"Yes, she is."

“You must be proud.”

He managed a curt nod.

"I must say, I wouldn't have predicted it. Not that she isn't attractive," Lady Wolcott hastened to add. "But she is not in the usual style."

Dunford fixed a deadly stare upon her. "In looks or in personality?"

Sarah-Jane was either exceedingly foolish or she just didn't notice the furious gleam in his eyes. "Both, I suppose. She is rather forward, don't you think?"

"No," he bit off, "I don't."

"Oh." The corners of her lips turned up ever-so-slightly. "Well, I'm sure everyone will realize that soon." She offered him a pouty smile and then moved on.

Dunford swiveled his head to regard Henry once more. Was she being too forward? She did have a rather vibrant laugh. He'd always taken it as a sign of a happy and delightful person, but a different sort of man might see it as an invitation. He moved over to Alex's side, where he could keep a better eye on her.

Henry, meanwhile, had managed to convince herself that she was having a splendid time. Everyone seemed to think she was terribly attractive and witty, and to a woman who had spent most of her life without friends, this was a heady combination, indeed. The Earl of Billington was paying her particular attention, and she could tell from the stares she was receiving that he was not usually given to paying court to young debutantes. Henry found him rather attractive and personable and began to think that if there were more men like him, she just might be able to find someone with whom she could be happy. Perhaps even the earl. He seemed intelligent, and although his hair was reddish brown, his warm brown eyes reminded her of Dunford's.

No, Henry thought, that should not be a point in the earl's favor.

Then again, she decided in the spirit of fairness, it shouldn't necessarily be a point against him either.

"And do you ride, Miss Barrett?" the earl was saying.

"Of course," Henry replied. "I grew up on a farm, after all."

Belle coughed.

"Really? I had no idea."

"In Cornwall." Henry decided to spare Belle the agony. "But you do not want to hear about my farm. There must be thousands just like it. Do you ride?" She asked that last question with a teasing look in her eye; it was a given that all gentlemen rode.

Billington chuckled. "May I have the pleasure of escorting you for a ride in Hyde Park sometime soon?"

"Oh, but I couldn't do that."

"I'm crushed, Miss Barrett."

"I don't even know your name," Henry continued, her smile lighting up her face. "I couldn't possibly make an appointment to ride with a man I know only as 'the earl.' It's terribly daunting, you know, being merely a 'miss' myself. I'll be quaking the entire time for fear I'll offend you."

This time Billington laughed loudly. He gave her a smart bow. "Charles Wycombe, madam, at your service."

"I should love to go for a ride with you, Lord Billington."

"Do you mean to tell me I went to the trouble of introducing myself to you, and you still mean to call me 'Lord Billington?'"

Henry cocked her head to the side. "I really don't know you very well, Lord Billington. It would be dreadfully improper of me to call you Charles, don't you think?"

"No," he said with a lazy smile, "I don't."

A warm feeling flushed through her, almost, but not quite, identical to what she felt when Dunford smiled at her. Henry decided she liked this feeling even better. There was still that lovely sensation of being wanted, cared for, possibly loved, but with Billington she managed to retain some measure of control. When Dunford chose to bestow one of his grins on her, it was like going over a waterfall.

She could sense him near her, and she glanced to her left. He was there, just as she had known he would be, and he gave her a mocking nod. For one moment Henry's entire body reacted, and she forgot how to breathe. Then her mind retook control, and she turned resolutely back to Lord Billington. "It is good to know your given name, even if I do not intend to use it," she said with a secret smile. "For it is difficult to think of you as 'the earl.'"

"Does that mean you will think of me as Charles?"

She shrugged delicately.

It was at that point that Dunford decided he had better intercede. Billington looked as if he wanted nothing more than to take Henry's hand, lead her out to the garden, and kiss her senseless. Dunford found that feeling unpleasantly easy to understand. He took three swift steps and was at her side, putting his arm through hers in a most proprietary manner.

"Billington," he said with as much warmth as he could muster, which, admittedly, wasn't much.

"Dunford. I understand you are responsible for bringing this delightful creature to the attention of the ton."

Dunford nodded. "I am her guardian, yes."

The orchestra struck up the first chords of a waltz. Dunford's hand stole down Henry's arm and settled around her wrist.

Billington executed another bow in Henry's direction. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Barrett?"

Henry opened her mouth to reply, but Dunford was faster. "Miss Barrett has already promised this dance to me."

"Ah, yes, as her guardian, of course."

The earl's words made Dunford want to rip his lungs out. And Billington was a friend. Dunford clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to growl. What the hell was he going to do when men with whom he wasn't friends began to court her?

Henry frowned in irritation. "But—"

Dunford's hand tightened considerably around her wrist. Her protest died a quick death. "It was very nice to meet you, Lord Billington," she said with unfeigned enthusiasm.

He nodded urbanely. "Very nice, indeed."

Dunford scowled. "If you'll excuse us." He started to lead Henry out toward the dance floor.

"Perhaps I don't want to dance with you," Henry ground out.

He arched a brow. "You don't have any choice."

"For a man who is intensely eager to have me married off, you're doing quite a good job of scaring away my suitors."

"I didn't scare Billington away. Trust me, he'll show up on your doorstep tomorrow morning, flowers in one hand, chocolates in the other."

Henry smiled dreamily, mostly just to irritate him. When they reached the dance floor, however, she noticed that the orchestra had begun a waltz. It was still a relatively new dance, and debutantes were not allowed to waltz without the approval of society's leading matrons. She ground to a stubborn halt. "I can't," she said. "I don't have permission."