Page 40 of Loving a Dowager
“Yes, I’d like for us to be friends. Once Hen forgives me, I expect we shall be spending more time in each other’s presence.”
The performance was brilliant.The talented Sienna Betonni even had Prinny enraptured for a period. However, Walter’s mind was rehearsing what he was to say to Henrietta when he next spoke to her—alone. Miss White’s sharp inhale brought his attention back to the pair seated in front of him. A palpable tension rolled off his nephew’s shoulders and Walter narrowed his gaze upon Nicholas. The young couple were like magnets. Face-to-face they were tangibly drawn to one another, but with Miss White’s head turned in the opposite direction, it was as if Nicholas was being prevented from getting closer by an invisible force. Walter empathized with his nephew’s plight—to have a woman within reach yet not close enough.
Lady Bertha broke his concentration, inquiring, “Lord Weathersbee, what do you know of Mr. Ainsworth?”
“He’s a fine botanist and is reported to be an excellent marksman. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason.”
“He’s not in line to inherit a title.”
“Neither was George when Henrietta married him, and they…” She clapped her hand over her mouth and then said, “I’m sorry, Lord Weathersbee; that was extremely insensitive of me.”
“No need to apologize. George loved Henrietta. I was happy for them both.”
“You are remarkably understanding.”
“I think not. I kept my friendship with George a secret for years and avoided gatherings if there was even the remotest possibility of seeing them together. It was extremely difficult and painful.”
“To keep secrets.”
He shook his head. “To love someone knowing there was no possibility of them returning the sentiment.”
“But Hen does love you. I saw it this evening from Lord Bertram’s box.”
“Even so, she is four years my senior; to love openly will only cause gossip and scandal.”
“Pfft. Hen is a widow. She can do as she pleases, and if her family has no objections, the only obstacle I foresee is yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pacing the length of her bed chambers, Henrietta counted three extra steps. Apparently while the layout was the same as her rooms at the Hadfield townhouse, Archbroke’s was slightly larger. The PORF families were supposed to be equals, yet the more she learned of the secret society she married into, the more apparent it was that reality did not mirror the original designs of its creators. Greed—man’s folly and the reason for most failed schemes. Bertha’s insults implied thatshewas acting with greed, wanting to experience love a second time. Except loving Walter was an entirely different experience at the age of one-and-fifty.
Henrietta’s heels struck a hollow board on the floor. She paused and stared at the rug beneath her. Bending to get down on her hands and knees, Henrietta rolled the worn material back. Her hands shook slightly as she rocked the wooden plank to dislodge the dust sealing it in place. Discovering and gathering information had been a key element to Henrietta’s recovery from George’s death. The board gave way to reveal an empty hidden compartment. She stuck her hand in to feel about the cavity. Experience had taught her that relying on sight alone could be a very dangerous mistake. Her heart stopped at the sound of the door of the secret passage opening. Jumping to her feet, Henrietta hid the flooring behind her. She slowly turned around to face her visitor. She exhaled. The figure in the entrance was neither Walter nor Theo. It was Archbroke.
Her nephew-in-law stepped forward and came to stand before her. “I was worried about you when you failed to return to the box this eve.” He held out his hand.
Without a word, she handed over the piece of wood that was evidence of her snooping. “I had Landon’s escort. No need to have been concerned.”
He hunkered down and replaced the board before repositioning the rug to its original position. “My grandmama was fond of stashing her love letters here.” He glanced down briefly before meeting her gaze once more. “She was extremely discreet. In her later years, she dallied with many a gentleman who was… well…significantlyyounger than herself. She died a fortunate woman.”
Archbroke offering her advice on love was a bizarre experience. Blast the man. He was correct—discretion was key if she dared to continue her relationship with Walter.
Archbroke tugged at his meticulously tied cravat fashioned of gamboge silk. “It’s been brought to my attention that I’ve failed to convey my sentiments toward you. Specifically, my gratitude for your willingness to reside here in my home. Theo needs you.” He stood and held out his hand. “We need you.”
She placed her hand in his and slowly rose. “Bah. You don’t need anyone.” Henrietta worried for her niece. Theo had a lifetime of challenges in store for her with Archbroke as husband. The man resisted change and held onto traditional theorems that were antiquated. He was the exact opposite of a Hadfield.
“For once, my dear aunt, you are mistaken.” He shook his head and smiled. A genuine curve of the lips Henrietta had only ever seen emerge in the presence of Theo.
Henrietta asked, “Pray tell, how is ityouneedme?”
“Without your constant assessing eyes, I might fall into terrible old habits.” He sighed, and his shoulders sagged as if the burden of what he was about to share was heavier than he cared to admit. “I was raised to believe my oath as a PORF and my role as Home Secretary were everything. Anything else was a distraction. When in fact family is what is most important. Without Theo, I never would have experienced love; but without you, I would lose it all.” Hands clasped behind his back, Archbroke’s cool blue stare bored into her.
She shouldn’t be shocked by his insightful confession—the man was a bloody genius. Henrietta’s dazed mind raced. She took in Archbroke’s open and honest features. For this brief moment, it appeared he was willing to lower the shield he had devised to protect himself and the secrets inherent to being a PORF.
To reward his candidness, Henrietta shared, “When I married into the Hadfield family, I believed the qualities that made me unique were of value. All these years I’ve attempted to prove myself worthy of the mark.”
Archbroke rolled back his shoulders, adopting his normal authoritative no-nonsense pose. “And you certainly have. Henrietta, you raised Landon, a man I’m honored to call Head PORF. It is a role that carries a heavy burden, yet he does so with humility and honor. That is all due to you.” There was no cynicism in his tone, only pure sincerity. “Your boys and Theo are grown and happily married. I hope my children will have the benefit of your guidance for years to come, but it is time for you to lead a life with yourself as your sole purpose. Enjoy every day you are given.”
