Page 21 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Eight

There was no denying it; a dinner invitation from Mrs. Dunn was infinitely more appreciated and well received than one from Henry’s father. Because it meant he could sit in the dining room across from Miss Follett. And though the table was decorated with floral arrangements and all the possible finery, it still allowed him to watch her, and smile at her, and try to gain her attention no matter how she tried to avoid him. She wore an awareness that was nearly impossible to hide. She knew she drew his attention but pretended that she didn’t. And it urged him all the more to get the truth out of her.

“How have you enjoyed your stay in London thus far, Miss Follett?” he asked, taking a sip of his dinner wine.

“Oh, very well.” She dabbed her mouth with her serviette. “All thanks to Mrs. Dunn, of course. Her generosity has provided a most thorough insight into society, and introductions to so many people I can hardly remember all the names.”

Mrs. Dunn huffed without looking up from her plate of food. “It hasn’t been as much as all that.”

Miss Follett smiled. “Perhaps it only seems that way to me due to my unfamiliarity with it all. Though it seems overwhelming at times, it is not unwelcomed.”

“What have you been able to enjoy thus far?” Henry asked. “The museum, for one.”

“Indeed, which turned out better than previously anticipated.” Miss Follett’s playful tone and pointed gaze were not missed. “Hyde Park, as you well know. And we even had a chance to visit the theatre a few nights ago.”

“Yes, I think I caught a glimpse of you there.” Henry tossed a wink at Mrs. Dunn, who rolled her eyes. “You had on a lovely blue dress, did you not? Of the royal variety?”

Miss Follett flushed, no doubt noting his word choice from before.

“And you were with a gentleman I’m not acquainted with.”

“That would be Mr. Bernard. He’s been quite diligent in his pursual of Miss Follett,” Mrs. Dunn said.

“Ah, but has he garnered an invitation to dinner like I have?” Henry grinned.

Miss Follett smiled politely. “He will be with us tomorrow evening.”

Henry nodded, trying to take it in stride. He may have been the first gentleman to receive a dinner invitation, but he was not the only one. And Mrs. Dunn had warned him fairly enough.

“I see. And what are his merits?” Henry sat a little straighter in his seat.

“He hails from the north, a large estate in Nottinghamshire. And his grandfather is a baronet, I believe.” Mrs. Dunn took a sip from her drink, glaring at Henry from over her glass.

So he was from the lowest rung of noble blood. Did that mean he held more value than Henry? He didn’t linger on those thoughts too long, not with his father’s words echoing in his head even days later. But there was something about the name Bernard that rang with bitterness, and he’d been unable to dig up what it was.

“What of you, Miss Follett?” Henry quickly turned the conversation. “From whence do you hail?”

“From a village just outside Hereford.”

“And your family is in good health?” he asked.

She nodded. “My mother and father remain at home.”

Henry shifted when he noticed Mrs. Dunn give her a sharp glance, but Miss Follett only smiled at him. He wasn’t sure if something was amiss, but it was certainly suspect, something that required more digging.

But before he could ask more questions, she continued, “And what of your family?”

He couldn’t help from wrinkling his nose. Dinner with a lovely young woman was no place to discuss his family dynamic. “It is only my father remaining in our family. He resides here in London.”

He’d hoped his contribution to the conversation would have alleviated the tension, but it seemed to only add to it. Henry had nothing to hide, but simply did not want to expose the innocent Miss Follett to his harsh and painful past.

“How would you feel about playing the pianoforte this evening, my dear?” Mrs. Dunn asked, standing from her seat. “If you both are finished, let us retire to the drawing room.”

“Of course, Mrs. Dunn,” Miss Follett said.

“That sounds lovely.” Henry hurried to stand beside Miss Follett and extend his arm to her. “Allow me, Miss Follett.”

She raised an eyebrow at him as she gathered the shawl from around her shoulders. “If you insist,” she said as she placed her hand in the crook of his arm.

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