Page 17 of Loving a Dowager
“Unfortunately, I shall have to miss the event this year; however, my nephew shall be present.”
“A pity. I know how fond you are of the pianoforte. I hear Lord Thornston’s daughter, Lady Emilie, will be playing this eve. It is rumored she is quite accomplished.”
Henrietta stiffened at the mention of the pianoforte. She wasn’t aware of Walter’s preference. She had practiced for hours with him in attendance during the summers they had spent as neighbors in the country. Childhood memories. The silver hair gracing Walter’s temples caught her attention. What did she really know of this man? How foolish of her to believe he had remained the same all these years. Walter hadn’t been her boon companion in years. She’d have to rediscover the man.
It appeared that Henrietta was not the only one who took note of Bertha’s comment. At the mention of Lady Emilie, Lord Darlington leaned in to listen closer. In turn, Miss White’s eyes narrowed at the boy with a hint of jealousy. The ebb and flow of energy that surrounded the couple was highly volatile and highly entertaining. Lord Darlington and Miss White were perfect for each other.
Bertha shifted to face Henrietta and asked, “Will you be joining us this eve?”
Behind Bertha, Walter’s nose scrunched up, his lips puckered, and his brow lowered as one eye semi-closed. It was the most confounding yet comical facial expressions she’d ever witnessed. What in the blazes was he doing? If he was trying to prompt her to decline, why hadn’t he simply shaken his head or tugged on his right ear—their childhood signal for the wordno?
Swallowing a giggle, Henrietta replied, “I don’t believe I will be in attendance. My dear daughter-in-law has requested I stay in tonight and keep her company, now that she is near term.”
Before Bertha could respond, Miss White bobbed a quick curtsy and whisked her cousin out of the room, but not before darting Lord Darlington one last glare.
Hands on her hips, Henrietta waited for the sound of the clattering of carriage wheels out front before rounding on the man who nearly had her in fits of laughter at the most inappropriate times. “Walter Weathersbee.” She waved her hand in circles in front her face as she mimicked his earlier facial expressions. “What was all that about?”
Lord Darlington, who she’d nearly forgotten was in the room, let out a chuckle and then whirled about, pretending to inspect the painting of Hadfield Hall that sat upon the nearest wall with great interest.
“I’m certain I have no inkling as to what you are referring to.” Walter ran a hand over his face and rubbed the back of his neck. A reddish tinge colored his cheek bones. Walter was a terrible liar.
Placing her hands back on her hips, she asked, “Why did you not wish for me to attend Thornton’s soiree?”
His gaze flickered to his nephew and then back to her. “I believe it only fair you forgo tonight’s entertainment to assist me this eve. We need to work on devising a plan to rectify Otterman’s mangled affairs.” He grinned and added, “After all, it was you who originally requested I involve myself in the matter.”
About half-way through his long-winded explanation, Henrietta lost focus and stared at his moving lips. Lips that were rather inviting. Her mind replacing the words he spoke with ones of her own—I wantto spend time alone with you. To have you in my arms. To feel your lips upon mine.Heavy foot falls pierced through her wayward thoughts.
Landon appeared in the threshold of the drawing-room door. When would the boy ever learn to tread lightly?
“Morris informed me we had visitors.” Landon scanned the room. “Where are Lady Bertha and Miss White?”
At the sight of her son’s dark scowl directed at Walter, Henrietta answered, “On their way back to Bertha’s residence, I believe.”
Landon’s lips thinned. “Weathersbee. Darlington. What brings you here today?”
Lord Darlington stepped forward. “We came to provide you with an update regarding Otterman.”
“Landon, why don’t you escort Lord Darlington to your study, where the two of you can discuss matters.” She didn’t give her son a chance to rebuke. Instead, she turned Landon about by the shoulders and gave him a solid shove towards the door.
Lord Darlington, smart lad that he was, picked up on her scheme and walked slightly behind Landon to skillfully guide her son out into the hall.
Grinning, Henrietta twirled and came face-to-face with Walter. A rather handsomely disheveled Walter with a finger tugging at his cravat. Henrietta’s stomach knotted as his warm brown eyes bored into hers. Unaccustomed to Walter’s direct stares, Henrietta shifted and tugged at her skirts. Blast the man! How had Walter Weathersbee of all people ruffled her normally unflappable nerves? Uncertain she would be able to continue to stand under his watchful attention, Henrietta gracefully settled herself upon the empty settee. Mustering all the bravado she could, she lifted her chin and asked, “With what exactly do you need my assistance?”
Ignoring the comfortable chair next to the settee, Walter sat beside her. “I’m in need of your guidance regarding how best to handle Lady Irene Torsney’s reentrance into the ton.”
“Who in the blazes is Lady Irene Torsney?”
Walter shook his head. “Did I not mention Lady Irene is the woman Otterman will be marrying?”
“No, you did not.” Henrietta frowned as information on the lady came to mind. Lady Irene Torsney. Daughter of the Earl of Tinsmore. Disowned after refusing to disclose the name of the man who got her with child. “The ton is notorious for shunning women who are embroiled in scandal.” Walter’s knee brushed her thigh. Her thoughts scattered at the innocent touch. Clutching her hands together in her lap, she waited until her pulse returned to a steady pace. “Marrying Otterman does not guarantee her reentrance into society.”
“Exactly. However, for the sake of Otterman’s heir, it is important that the Earl and Countess of Otterman are well received and accepted back into the fold once more.”
How insightful of Walter to consider the ramifications that might ensue for the poor child. Otterman’s heir should not suffer as a result of his papa’s idiocy. She glanced up at Walter and gave him a half-smile. They had a task that required them to work together in unison like they used to do when they were children. Familiar camaraderie sent warmth radiating down her body to the spot where Walter’s knee connected them.
Clasping her hands in her lap, she said, “What Lady Irene needs is the full endorsement of an untarnished, well-respected matron of the ton.” She lowered her gaze to his chest as the shame of her own disownment hit her. Even to this day, her family refused to acknowledge her. On the rare occasions when she was present at an event where her siblings were in attendance, they showed no remorse and gave her the cut direct. It was the stout support of her fellow PORFs that had provided Henrietta solace and the courage to reenter society.
Walter reached out and covered her hands with one of his own. “That may be, but Lady Irene will need you, Henrietta. A magnificent and brave woman who understands how to navigate and regain the good graces of the ton.”
