“Then all the more reason to wish for nothing more to do with me. I’ll only destroy your illusions. I’ll break your heart and you’ll soon come to hate me.”
“I won’t have the chance if I’m never to see you again.”
He’d been staring loftily ahead. Now his head whipped ‘round. “That all depends on…” His tone gentled. “I have ruined you, Miss Henrietta, and as a gentleman I am required to save your honor. I offer you two choices—marriage,” he paused ominously, “without my heart. Or, if you get out of this free of scandal, then the choice I favor, a clean parting of the ways.”
Devastated, Hetty stared back at him. “So you would marry me if I desired it?”
He huffed out a breath. “I just said I would. I am a gentleman. I will not see you ruined. I would, however, wish you a better future than that. One without me.”
“You would marry me but you would withhold your heart? What foolishness.”
He nodded again. “I would leave you in the country the moment I could and live up to my reputation as a heartless villain. You would have every material possession I had the means to grant you but,” he tapped his heart, “I would have nothing to offer you here, Hetty.”
Hetty bit her trembling lip. “You were going to set me up in a pretty house so you could visit me whenever you wished. Yesterday you wanted me. Desired me.”
“Yesterday I was acting like a man who knows he can discard his mistress the moment he tires of her. A wife is not such an easily dispensed-with commodity and I would not build up your hopes in the early days when infatuation is based on falsehood, only to see you suffer more acutely for your blind faith later.”
“That’s not how it would be,” she whispered. “You know it’s not.”
They were nearing the home straight. Stephen and Araminta could be seen in the distance.
Sir Aubrey slowed the horses and fixed her with an intense look. “So what’s it to be? Marriage?”
The greatest, loneliest feeling she’d ever experienced seeped through her. Slowly, Hetty shook her head. “I cannot hold you to something that is such anathema to you, even if it would give me the greatest joy to prove you wrong.”
She drew in a quavering breath. “From the start, I knew Araminta was the sister you would choose. Goodbye, Sir Aubrey. You have my blessing, and my wish for your great happiness.”
* * * * *
“Well, Sir Aubrey was in a less than pretty mood this afternoon, Hetty,” Araminta remarked once Hetty was set down and their erstwhile host departed with the requisite courtesies, namely a terse farewell for the girls and a frosty nod directed at Stephen.
Hetty’s insides cleaved as she clung to Stephen’s arm, Araminta on his other as he navigated them through the well-dressed crowd. Stephen seemed not to notice. “No doubt having the very time of it trying to decide which of you to choose since you both for some extraordinary reason favor his advances.” Hetty gave a little hiccup and both pairs of eyes turned to her. “Good Lord, Hetty, don’t tell me you’re cast down about it?” asked
Stephen while Araminta let out a little trill.
“I can’t believe, Hetty, you think he’d seriously consider you. Why, you’re the absolute opposite of everything he finds attractive.”
“And what do you know about that?” Stephen asked in dampening tones when he saw Hetty’s distress. “Do you not think Sir Aubrey would be as charmed by your kind and self-effacing sister as he would a showy piece? I’m sure he must be tired of young women throwing themselves at him.”
He sent Araminta a pointed look but Hetty was too distraught to respond with anything more than another truncated sob.
She did not care that they must guess at the cause of her distress when she raced up the steps once they reached their townhouse.
The butler was slow in opening the door and as she waited, she heard Stephen ask Araminta, clearly bemused, “She can’t possibly be in love with the fellow, can she? I thought she barely knew him.”
Then Araminta’s thoughtful response, “Perhaps Hetty has more secrets than we realized.”
Chapter Ten
Hetty was lying on her bed later that evening when her mother quietly entered the room.
“My poor darling,” she said, taking a seat by Hetty’s side and filling her with the comfort she always felt at her mother’s lavender-scented presence. “Araminta said you were feeling poorly and suggested I see what I could do for you.”
“I doubt the concern came from Araminta,” muttered Hetty, enjoying the gentle hand massage her mother was giving her. “What did she really tell you?”
“Well, to be honest, she said it appeared you’d lost your head over some unsuitable rogue. I, however, would suggest you’ve lost your heart. You never were in danger of losing your head. It’s far too sensibly screwed on.”
Hetty closed her eyes and said miserably, “Not in this instance. Araminta’s right. I have lost my head and my heart and no doubt I’ll suffer for it the rest of my life.”