Page 48 of Playing the Scoundrel

It was hard to know what one’s next steps would be when everything in life would change. James was a married man and fully stepping into his role and duties as Duke of Norland. If Thomas had any say in the matter, he would be a married man before the end of the year, and happily doting on Lady Finley for the rest of his days. Before long, Henry would no longer have a father to quarrel with who would point out his flaws or kick while he was down. Henry wouldn’t even be able to seek out Miss Follett’s company, as she would likely be marrying that fool Bernard, making her unreachable to him. He could spend his waking hours bothering Mrs. Dunn, but she would only put up with his cheek for so long. That meant he would be alone in the London society that he so despised, and there was no immediate resolution for his conundrum. It left him feeling rather gray.

Perhaps it was time to travel. He could see more of the world and its women. It would help him take his mind off his lack of purpose. He had no titled duty keeping him to Parliament, no wife or child to dote on. There was his father’s ancestral home, but Henry hadn’t returned since his mother’s passing, to avoid living under his father’s thumb. No, it would be better to burn that bridge and continue on his own.

“Mr. Godwin!”

A smooth voice sounded behind him and made him turn. The sight of Miss Follett waving from her carriage with Mrs. Dunn added a hint of bitter to that sweetness, like a honey lemon juice tonic when one was ill. Perhaps that’s what he needed, more of her company to heal the wounds that scarred him.

She climbed down from the seat and approached him in a beautiful floral dress that made his heart pound. He may have told her that pinks and yellows were too gaudy before, but Henry was beginning to believe that every color was becoming on her. There was nothing that could make her any less beautiful than she truly was.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she said, bobbing a curtsy as she drew near. “It’s a beautiful day for a stroll, isn’t it?”

Henry nodded. “Indeed. I couldn’t keep myself away.”

She smiled, but he could still feel her scrutiny, her concern. “How have you been? We’ve not seen you for some days.”

“I am…” Henry started to speak, thinking it would be easy to lie and tell her he was fine. But the words choked him, dying in his throat. “I am as well as I can be.”

Miss Follett stepped forward, her dark eyes filled with a worry that wrapped around him like an invitation to unburden himself with her. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Henry shook his head, looking back at the graceful swans on the lake. How he envied their peace. “My father is dying, Miss Follett, and ours has never been a harmonious relationship, so this news leaves me feeling rather… conflicted.”

The words slipped out, unbidden. He had every reason to keep the realities of his life from her, for he knew she was not to be trusted. She’d used him ill once, so what was stopping her from doing so again? He needed to keep her at arm’s length, not throw down all his defenses at her feet and put his darkest vulnerabilities on display.

But then he felt her hand on his arm, and he did not pull away. Her brown eyes didn’t feel like a trap as they had once before. She looked at him as though seeing him for the first time, almost understanding his every flaw and weakness, and though it should have angered him or frightened him, instead he felt safe somehow. Like their velvety depths would welcome him, even against his will; he couldn’t believe it to be true, but he suddenly wanted it to be, quite desperately.

Her voice was low when she spoke. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Godwin.”

It was such a simple gesture, but he greatly appreciated her sympathy. “Thank you, Miss Follett.”

“Will you join us for dinner?” she asked, pulling her arm away and stepping back. “Mrs. Dunn is having guests this evening, but I know she will have no objection to you joining us tomorrow. And I think it would be good for you to be in the company of friends.”

He should have been reveling in her sincerity, that once again she appeared to be playing right into his hand, that he was one step closer to ruining the woman who had broken his heart into pieces. But he was too emotionally exhausted to care. Instead, he was grateful she was expressing concern and support out of friendship. It was something he wanted to cherish.

“It would be my pleasure to join you tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Until tomorrow, then.” She gave him a smile before turning to the carriage, where Mrs. Dunn waved as they drove off through Hyde Park.

When Henry looked back at the Serpentine, he found himself smiling.

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