Page 39 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
But Charlotte just shook her head, unable to go on.
“And you would believe Barnaby’s nebulous, unsatisfactory claim without citing evidence, over my word that I am blameless of his charges—on both counts, Charlotte?” Henry’s voice was quiet but there was steel beneath the softness.
Charlotte sighed, her breath stirring the steam from her untouched tea. “Henry, I don’t know what to believe. Barnaby is not a liar—”
“Oh, so if he’s not, then by inference, I am?”
Charlotte looked pained. “Why would Barnaby lie, Henry? He’s your friend, and he’s my betrothed.”
“And he’s told you I’m a cheat and you believe him?” Henry pushed his plate away, his appetite vanished.
“He… he says he’s found evidence—”
“But won’t state exactly what evidence that is. He just expects you to believe I’ve done something wrong and won’t believe your own brother when he says he hasn’t.” A servant passed by the doorway, slowing momentarily before discreetly continuing, no doubt sensing the tension.
Charlotte put her hands to her face. “I don’t know, Henry. But Barnaby deals with the accounts of Lord Chartley. There was a sum there… paid to the brother of this foreign princess, but coming from our father’s account. That’s what Barnaby says.” She hesitated, lowering her voice even further. “But father has no knowledge of that. He says the only person other than himself who has access to his accounts is… you.”
Henry sat back, stunned. “Absurd!” The sunlight that had bathed the room in warmth suddenly seemed harsh and revealing.
“Is it?” Charlotte’s tone was pleading, desperate. “Because if it is you, and you are in a scrape, you must tell me so I can ask father’s help on your behalf.”
“This is all fabricated!” Henry repeated firmly. “I have never made any such payment. I don’t know any foreign princess or her brother. And I certainly haven’t taken money from Father’s accounts, and I’ve never been involved in a transaction with Lord Chartley.” He leaned forward, taking his sister’s handsacross the table. “Charlotte, I give you my word. Whatever Barnaby thinks he’s found, it wasn’t done by me.”
The doubt in her eyes wavered, then slowly cleared, like clouds parting after a storm. “Then you must discover who did,” she said quietly.
Henry held her eye for a long time, contemplating whether to speak what was in his heart.
That Barnaby might not be the trustworthy party among them.
But he refrained. Charlotte was clearly in love with the man and would defend him to the grave.
Perhaps with more energy than she would Henry.
He thought of Caroline and his heart did a little lurch. The memory of her in his arms last night, the scent of orange blossom clinging to her skin, was both comfort and torment.
Love did strange things to a person.
*
In yet anothertownhouse, Caroline paced in front of the large windows that looked into the street as she tried to make sense of the night before. The gentle tap of her slippers on the polished floor marked the rhythm of her thoughts. Her sister-in-law, Amelia, sat comfortably in an armchair in the corner, her hands to her belly, for she was expecting their second child. The soft glow of impending motherhood seemed to surround her, making her appear almost serene despite the troubling subject of their conversation.
Perhaps that was why she was more receptive and understanding of Caroline’s distress than Caroline’s brother, Sir Frederick, had been.
“Frederick thinks Henry did something as wicked as he did when he went to the Continent last year.” Caroline’s hands twisted together as she spoke.
“What wicked thing did your brother supposedly do when he went to the Continent?” Amelia asked with a smile, her needle pausing mid-stitch. “Rumors do have a habit of taking on a life of their own when left unchecked.”
“Everyone says Frederick was quite the man about town before he settled down with you,” Caroline said, surprised. “And I can’t believe that of Henry.”
“I can’t either, but what do you really know?” Amelia asked. “About either of them, for that matter. And what if Frederick was a man about town? It’s not like he misbehaved after I met him. So, if Henry behaved in a way that occasions embarrassment, I maintain the same thing. This was all before he was betrothed to Venetia.” She bent her head to study her embroidery, teasing out a stitch that had snagged. “I’ve no doubt Venetia will forgive him. I’m sure it was all just a misunderstanding.” She leaned back, her smile expansive. “Those two are made for one another. Anyone can see it. Henry’s so vibrant and Venetia’s so sweet.” She resumed her stitching. “I’m sure it’ll all blow over before their wedding.”
Venetia. Again.
But then her sister-in-law hesitated, her hand poised in the air, holding the needle above the hardanger as if it were a weapon, ready to strike.
“Except that it does appear a little more serious,” Amelia went on in quite a different tone, as if she’d not just spent the past few minutes reassuring Caroline. “I’m hearing it from various quarters now, even though I don’t go about as much as before.” Gently putting her embroidery aside, she reached out a hand. “I know how fond you are of Henry, but this must beespecially painful for Venetia. The integrity of the man she is to marry is being questioned.”
Caroline jerked back. She really didn’t know what to say. Integrity? Henry was a man of the highest integrity. Surely Amelia was not questioning that?
