Page 53 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
She had given it much thought throughout the day, and Henrietta was worried. She wanted to dismiss it as an accident, but something within her warned her against doing so.
“Officially, Mr. Kemble maintains it was an accident, and I see no reason to insist otherwise just yet. That said, I’d like to keep my eye on Seth Booth.”
Henrietta suspected Seth as well, but mostly because of the note she assumed came from him earlier in the day. Surely the Marquess had no knowledge of that communiqué.
“Mr. Booth? Because he leered at me on the cliff promenade?”
“Yes, my dear Lady,andbecause he has been lately part of Averson’s household which connects him to me and ultimately to you.”
“He has been what? In Lord Averson’s household?”
“For some weeks now, he has been in the employ of Lord Averson. At least, he was. Averson was going to dismiss him today.”
“Is that wise, my Lord?” she asked with concern.
“In what way? What do you mean?”
She pondered how to answer, and he anticipated her unease.
“Do you fear retaliation?”
“In truth, I wonder if the near-death event of last night, though officially deemed accidental, was indeed retaliation by Mr. Booth for his first dismissal from my father’s employ. If he, in fact, went to such extremes to exact a revenge for the first dismissal, what might he do after a second?”
“Your concern is not without merit.”
“May I suggest, my Lord Marquess, that should you desire to keep an eye on Seth Booth, you keep him in Lord Averson’s employ. At least we will know of his whereabouts most of the time. Otherwise, we will have nothing.”
“I think that is sound advice, my Lady. I will send a note recommending as much to Averson in the morning. Hopefully, he has not yet thrown him out.”
He apparently had nothing more to say. He apparently also had no intention of returning to his own room, and soon his breathing became deep and even. She watched his chest rise and fall steadily, happy he had found his rest. She settled back into her book, returning to the riveting article about curing a cough with an iron. It was clear the Royal Navy surgeons were forced to be creative.
An hour ticked by and still she read, engrossed. She was startled when he spoke.
“Henrietta, please call me Ewan.”
She started to respond, but something made her hold her tongue. She waited. His light snore returned. It appeared he was not awake enough to even know he had spoken to her.
“Please,” he said again. “Ewan. ‘Tis my name.”
She smiled mischievously, deciding it didn’t really matter how she answered. She doubted he would remember.
“I would rather call you my Lord Marquess if ‘tis all the same to you.”
His words were smooth, but sleep impressed a slight slur upon them. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re being so nice to me, but I don’t want to like you. And if I begin to call you by your given name on top of everything else, ‘tis possible it will come to pass.”
He said nothing. He was clearly asleep. And then, “You might like me?” he murmured, and then the snore returned. She waited until she was sure he was asleep before she replied.
“Yes, Ewan. I might like you very much indeed.”
* * *
To the astonishment of most of the guests at the Old Bell, the October sun graced the cliff with its presence the next morning, and given its cheery disposition, the Marquess suggested to his wife they ride on horseback to some picturesque spot outside of town and enjoy a picnic. She was agreeable and so Gerome had ridden behind them, and when they had decided to rest and eat their picnic lunch, he had laid out the blanket and all the appropriate accoutrements. Gerome then, as always, made himself scarce.
“Gerome informs me there is a hunting party in the woods, so do not be alarmed should you hear shots,” the Marquess informed her. Reclining, he made himself comfortable on the blanket near the basket that held the food. Leaning on an elbow, he watched her attempt to keep her bright blue cape tightly closed against the cold air. It was sunny, yes, but it was not warm.
“Perhaps a picnic is better suited to the summer season in Scarborough,” the Marquess commented.
