Page 27 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Ten

Henry leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, one hand pressing against his chin, and one foot tapping relentlessly on the floor. It wouldn’t be overheard in the bustle of the ballroom, but in Henry’s mind, it was the only sound. His eyes saw none of the pomp and circumstance, as he was completely lost in his thoughts.

What had he done?

Kissing Miss Follett had not been part of his plan. It had been his desire, of that there was no doubt, but he generally had more self-control; instead, he had crumbled the moment she touched his lips. Kissing was generally down the line when it came to seduction. It came after the dancing and discussion and promised distractions. Though that was beside the point, because he was not out to seduce her.

She was an unmarried woman, and he had no business dallying with her. Mrs. Dunn had been abundantly clear; Miss Follett was not one of his widows or ladies of the night. She was to be respected, and sought after for marriage, nothing else. But Henry had no interest in marrying, especially after his most recent interaction with his father. His was the life of a rake; he could not be the well-respected gentleman coming to pay a call in the daylight.

But then, if that were the case, why had he accepted Mrs. Dunn’s pseudo-invitation to the museum? Why had he invited them both to the theatre? He had no hat to throw in the ring, as she’d said. But when it came to Miss Follett, he found he enjoyed her company more than anyone else in the entirety of London. Her witty nature and cool demeanor somehow kept drawing him back, no matter how much she said she didn’t like him. Not to mention the look in her eyes that urged him closer, the feel of her lips beneath his…

Henry swallowed hard and shook his head. There could be no more of that. He needed to apologize and promise more gentlemanly behavior going forward. All he’d wanted to do was draw her out, make her admit she did like him more than she let on. But to what end? Have her realize she had feelings for him so he could crush her when he rejected her, because she was a respectable lady, and he was not the marrying sort?

Hanging his head in shame, Henry sighed. Maybe his father was right, after all.

“What are you doing all the way over here?”

He looked up at the voices behind him, just as James clapped him on the back, Thomas appearing by his side.

“Awaiting a young lady.” Henry straightened his shoulders. “She should be arriving at any moment, and she’s promised a dance with me.”

“Well, well. Who is this mystery maiden?” Thomas asked. “Another widow?”

Henry cringed. “Not exactly.”

“Then we shall wait with you,” said Isabel, appearing beside her husband and taking his arm.

“I wish that you wouldn’t.” Henry tried to smile at them, but his voice was insistent. What he had to say to Miss Follett, he’d prefer to say without extra listening ears. “Where’s Miss Clay?”

“Out dancing with Mr. Hembrook. A bit old for her in my eyes, but he’s respectable enough.”

“What about you?” Henry turned to Thomas, desperate to change the topic of conversation. “Where’s Lady Finley?”

“Yet to arrive, as well,” Thomas answered. “But she has promised a dance, so it won’t be a complete waste of an evening.”

James pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You count an evening with us wasted?”

Isabel swatted his arm with her fan as the gentlemen chuckled, but then her eyes turned to the main entrance. “Oh, is that her?”

Henry’s breath caught in his throat as he looked up, heart pounding in anticipation like a schoolboy. Mrs. Dunn appeared first, breaking through the crush with a stern eyebrow that could part the sea, and then, he saw Miss Follett, and his heart actually skipped a beat. She was breathtaking. Her sunshine hair was curled and pinned to perfection, accented with dark bows and ribbons. And just like the day he’d found her in the park, she wore a dark forest green gown trimmed in gold. It complimented her curves and complexion, leaving him feeling as though he’d wandered into a daydream. She met his gaze from across the room, and a smug smile grew across her perfect lips.

Lud, how he wanted her.

But she deserved far better than him.

“Yes, it is she.”

Miss Follett leaned over to Mrs. Dunn and gave a subtle indication with her fan. Pulling himself from leaning on the wall, Henry straightened, almost forgetting his friends stood nearby.

“Good evening, Mr. Godwin,” Mrs. Dunn said, giving a slight nod as they approached.

“Good evening, indeed. To the both of you.” Henry gave Miss Follett a pointed stare, but she seemed preoccupied with his companions. “Oh, may I present Their Graces, the Duke and Duchess of Norland, and Mr. Thomas Ramsbury, all friends of mine.” Then he turned to those friends and said, “And this is Mrs. Chrysanthemum Dunn with her protégé, Miss Emma Follett. They’ve been kind enough to humor my presence for a few outings this week.”

They all bowed and curtsied, Mrs. Dunn the first to rise. “It’s an honor, Your Graces. Though I’m not sure if I should pity you for the acquaintance of this man.”

Henry couldn’t help but smile. Even in the presence of nobility, Mrs. Dunn was ever the same.

James chuckled. “We’ve known each other since infancy almost, childhood friends in school. It would be impossible to shirk the acquaintance now.”

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