Page 27 of Loving a Dowager
Bertha raised a gloved hand in the air. “Don’t apologize; I shouldn’t have assumed you had already spoken to Lord Weathersbee.” Her hand fell back to her lap, but her gaze never wavered. “You remained in Mr. Collins’s shop a fair while. Were you able to find out if there was a possibility Lord Weathersbee might hold a tendre for me?”
“Weathersbee is a renowned bachelor. It’s doubtful he’ll ever marry.” The statement, while true, left Henrietta’s chest aching for the man. Never married, Walter would never know the bond formed between husband and wife. While she may hesitate to express her true feelings for the man, a second marriage was not what Henrietta envisioned for her future. She relished her legal and financial independence too much to relinquish it.
“How will I ever weather the scandal of a broken engagement?” Bertha buried her face in her hands. “Lady Marion and the others will surely give me the cut direct. Their favor is as fickle as the wind.” She shook her head. “What good is the old drafty home I inherited if I’m to sit in it all alone?”
The ache in Henrietta’s chest deepened at the sight of her friend’s distress. Bertha deserved better. She didn’t have a mean bone in her body, unlike the male members of her family. It was Bertha’s brother Bartholomew’s fault for the lack of offers for Bertha’s hand. He was a tyrant. Henrietta despised men that abused their position in life. Bertha had written to Henrietta over the years detailing Bartholomew’s treachery and schemes to use her to improve his situation—vying for votes in the House of Lords from potential suitors and bargaining her dowry for favors. As the years passed, Henrietta learned of Bertha’s plight as she was relegated to the fringes. Meanwhile, Henrietta had been safe under George’s protection and given opportunities to grow and blossom as a PORF. Henrietta didn’t fault Bertha for leaping at the chance to escape her brother now that she had inherited a small fortune from a distant aunt who had cleverly devised the bequest to ensure Bartholomew couldn’t access the funds. No, it was Bertha’s chance, and she was going to help her friend.
Henrietta leaned forward and pulled Bertha’s hands away from her tear-streaked face. “Do you trust me?”
“Aye. I should have heeded your warnings regarding Lord Otterman from the beginning.”
“Let’s not rehash that matter.” Henrietta released Bertha and sat back, tapping her forefinger against her chin. “Tell me, are there any other gentlemen of your acquaintance besides Weathersbee that you might be fond of?”
Bertha’s features brightened. Bertha wasn’t one to wallow in pity. It was a quality Henrietta treasured about her friend. “Well, I quite enjoy conversing with Lord Morseworth and Mr. Grandshaw, but both gentlemen are younger than I.”
“You had no objections to Weathersbee and he is your junior by two years, is he not?”
“Yes, but Weathersbee…Weathersbee is, well, the exception. He would be worth the risk of ostracization.” Bertha’s dreamy gaze vanished as she gave her head a shake. “I shall need to think upon it more.”
While Bertha pondered, Henrietta’s heart raced. Walter was four years her junior. Having been disowned, Henrietta existed on the outer fringes of beau monde for years. It would be no hardship for her to live in the shadows once again, but could Walter?
Bertha exhaled deeply before saying, “Lord Bartram recently lost his wife, but he’s in mourning.”
“But we both know the rules of mourning are never observed by men.”
Bertha’s eyes lit up. “Lord Bartram also has two lovely children.” Her friend would make for a wonderful mama. Bartram’s name didn’t raise any alarm bells in Henrietta’s mind, and she couldn’t recall any recent gossip, good or bad, involving the man, but the skin on the back of her neck prickled. She’d have to make inquiries.
“Will you assist me in gaining Lord Bartram’s attention? I need to wed if Marina is to remain untainted by my hash of an engagement.”
Typical of Bertha, her motivation wasn’t out of selfishness to escape her awful brother, it was to help her young cousin. Henrietta bemoaned, “I’d forgotten how difficult it is navigating the whims of the ton.”
Bertha beamed a smile at her. “Yet you have managed to these two years past with ease.”
“Ease!”
“Very well, with grace.”
Bertha really was a magnificent, loyal friend. Henrietta returned Bertha’s smile. “I couldn’t have done it without you and your support. As repayment I shall endeavor to find you a suitable husband within the week.”
Reaching for both of Henrietta’s hands and giving them a squeeze, Bertha said, “You are the very best of friends. I shall forever be in your debt.”
A large lump formed in Henrietta’s throat. “No, it is I who shall always be indebted to you.” If Henrietta failed to succeed in making a match for Bertha, then there was no hope of maintaining the woman’s friendship, especially once Henrietta revealed her true feelings for Walter.
Thankfully the momentum of the coach was slowing. Bertha released Henrietta’s hands and gave her a wide smile as she prepared to exit. “Thank you, Henrietta. You have no idea how wonderful it will be to be free of my family.”
Henrietta returned Bertha’s smile and waited for her friend to descend before expelling the breath she was holding. Bertha was wrong, Henrietta knew all too well how liberating it was to be distanced from one’s own archaic, male-dominated blood relations, but it was also a painful burden to know you would never be accepted by them either.
Chapter Sixteen
Slumped in the corner of the coach, Henrietta was thankful for their plodding pace for the first time in a long time. Events and conversations of the past week were testing her resilience. Emotions she normally kept tightly sealed away kept threating to erupt. There was no one about to see her crying, and so she allowed the singular tear to escape the corner of her eye and roll down her cheek.
Devoting her time to others had allowed her to avoid dealing with the reality that she was all alone. Her papa’s disownment had been bittersweet, for she gave up her position in a ducal family that, as hard as it was to admit, never really loved her, to marry into the Hadfield family, who wholeheartedly loved and embraced her. Older and wiser, she acknowledged her youthful need to prove herself and become an essential member of the PORFs had been to ensure she would never give another family a reason to renounce her. An intimate relationship with a man many years her junior would again have the tongues of the ton wagging. If she was to continue to assist Landon and remain useful as a PORF, it would not be wise to entertain such an entanglement. Bah. To hell with what the ton might say, but what would her children think of her?
The coach door flung open. Back at her son’s townhouse. If she was quick about it, she might make it to her chambers without notice. Bronwyn appeared and entered, flopping into the seat next to her. Landon and Archbroke also joined them, occupying every inch of the rear-facing seat.
Henrietta noted Archbroke’s strained features. “What in the blazes is going on?”
Both Bronwyn and Archbroke looked to Landon. “We are all adjourning to the Archbroke residence.”
