Page 40 of Playing the Scoundrel

Chapter Sixteen

While Henry was not a frequent church attender, he took great joy in appearing at St. James’s on this particular Sunday. The chapel filled with angelic choir voices, everything was covered with light shining through the detailed stained-glass windows, and Henry’s goal to be seen had been extremely successful. Not only the night before, appearing as a drunk in a show Miss Follett was sure to see, but also here on a Sunday morning. It was obvious he’d caught her attention, for she kept leaning forward in her seat to stare at him, which meant he had to keep his knowing smile to a humble expression.

He had arrived just before the start of the service, and he had identified Miss Follett from the moment he entered the room. She and Mrs. Dunn were seated in the middle pews, Miss Follett somehow standing out above the rest of the women in a bright blue number with a fashionable bonnet to match. He made enough of a fuss to draw attention when he took his seat in the pews to the left, and though he kept his eyes on the vicar at the pulpit, out of the corner of his eye, it was easy to see the color blue bobbing back and forth around Mrs. Dunn, no doubt Emma’s attempt to confirm his identity.

It brought him the most joy he’d had in days. No amount of drink or women had lessened the ache in his heart. Not even the run in with Miss Follett at the assembly hall where she’d appeared absolutely miserable. Which served her right, after she’d ripped his heart out with no remorse. She had not apologized, but it was evident in her eyes that she’d wanted to. So he was going to provide her another opportunity by just being around, even in church if needs be. She said she had not wanted to see him again, but her constant peeking around the churchgoers suggested otherwise.

The sermon came to a close and the vicar invited them to bow their heads in prayer. Once the service was over, the rows would be dismissed from the back first, allowing him a moment to stand and be seen once again, then exit before Miss Follett and Mrs. Dunn. He could probably linger on the churchyard property. Yes, meandering would give him the appearance of being solemn and thoughtful, perhaps even enough to draw her in.

Repeated amens sounded through the chapel, and then the organist played a hymn for a reverent exit. Henry’s pew was one of the first to be dismissed, and he kept his face looking sorrowful as he turned toward the doorway. Once he’d escaped the confines of St. James’s, instead of following the crowd out to the street, he kept himself within the property’s fences, and took a turn alongside the building, admiring the flowered grounds, the brick steeple, and the varied colors in the windows.

The crowd outside the church grew, and it wasn’t long before Henry heard the distinct voice of Mrs. Dunn.

“Is that Mr. Godwin? He looks terrible, all pale. Have you talked to him?”

The response was barely audible. “We had a row.”

“Obviously. That’s likely why you’ve been miserable for days.”

Henry snorted, feeling justified.

“Go make things right with him. Our afternoons will be quite boring if he won’t come around to entertain us.”

Keeping his eyes on the stained glass, Henry took the expression of a pained artist, something that would convince Miss Follett of his new character. He wanted to at least give the impression that he had changed, for he certainly had another goal in mind.

“Mr. Godwin?”

Her sweet voice was more beautiful than the choir, but he quickly crushed any tender thoughts about Miss Follett.

Henry slowly turned to face her. “Good day, Miss Follett.”

“What are you doing here?”

It made him want to laugh. She was nothing but direct. “Attending church. It is Sunday, is it not?”

“It is, only I have not seen you here before.”

He nodded, trying to appear hesitant to reveal anything. “Yes, only… I had a young lady recently remind me of my flaws, and I figured what I lacked might be found here.”

Miss Follett looked to her feet. “Was she terribly cruel?”

“She was honest, though it broke me more than I’d like to admit.” Henry looked down at his own boots and kicked the pavement. “One does not often enjoy being told the worst part of himself.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he looked up at her again.

“Will you forgive me?” she asked, her voice timid and her eyes soft.

Henry pursed his lips. “Are you apologizing?”

Miss Follett suddenly straightened, as if remembering to show no mercy. “My only apology is that I had to be the one to say it, for it is sometimes needed for friends to set each other right before they are too far gone.”

“I see.” Henry stood, holding his hands behind his back. “And are we friends? I recall you saying you never wanted to see me again.”

She held herself still for a moment before she sighed. “I have thought back on our conversation and realized I may have spoken a touch too harshly. If what you said about Miss Roberts is true, and you certainly would not have been the one who ruined my… other friend, therefore I believe it is best we start with a clean slate. Especially if you are truly on the path of a reformed rake with a sincere desire to change, then I would not be ashamed to be seen with you as my friend.”

“I am sincere.” Henry took a step forward and found himself perhaps too close for a public churchyard, but that did not stop him from taking her hand. He wanted to rouse emotions within her just like she’d done to him. “I am trying to prove myself worthy of a woman like you.”

Just as he’d expected, her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, and she turned away from him to hide her smile. “Mrs. Dunn will be pleased. She has missed your visits these last few days.”

“Did you miss me?” he asked, running his thumb across the back of her gloved hand. He needed to rein in his scoundrel tendencies, but he couldn’t expect to have an overnight change.

“That has yet to be seen.” Miss Follett gently pulled her hand from his and tucked it into her muff. “Come visit for tea so I can gauge the difference.”

“I look forward to it.” Henry smiled as she stepped back toward Mrs. Dunn. “Thank you, Miss Follett.”

She did not give him a backward glance until she had rejoined Mrs. Dunn, who was speaking with another church guest. Only then did Miss Follett turn back, giving Henry leave to wave his goodbye and continue on his walk around the chapel. He would bide his time, playing the repentant sinner and earning her trust and respect again. But if she thought he was going to change for her, the one who had wrecked him completely, then she was the one who would be severely disappointed.

He was a rakehell. A scoundrel. And he always would be. A man who dined on the hearts of innocent women and ruined their lives with just one night.

And lovely little Miss Follett was playing right into the palm of his hand.

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