To Marry A Matchmaker (Historical Romance) (12 page)

‘I will meet him, but only to show you that I am not paralysed by fear.’

Robert whistled and the dog instantly trotted up, looking far more like a small horse than a conventionally sized dog. At Robert’s signal, the dog dropped down on its haunches and held out its right paw.

‘If you would just take his paw.’ Henri screwed up her eyes and held out her hand. Robert’s strong fingers curled around it and held it tight. ‘Look at me, Henrietta Thorndike. Not the dog, at me. There are tricks you can learn to show a dog you are the master. It is all in how you approach the dog and the tone of your voice.’

Slowly Henri opened her eyes and found herself staring into his.

‘I want to do this, but.’

‘The only way to stop being afraid is to conquer
your fear. Once you have done it one time, it becomes easier.’

‘How do you know?’ Henri asked.

Shadows invaded his eyes. ‘I do. When I was young, after my mother died, I used to be afraid of many things. But I learnt how to overcome them. My father insisted that I ignore my emotions and put my faith in cool logic. People depended on me to make the right decision with the foundry and my other businesses. I learnt and it became easier. Trust the facts, not the fear, Henri.’

Afraid of many things. She found it difficult to imagine Robert ever being afraid and, more to the point, to be willing to admit it. ‘Even dancing?’

His face became remote. ‘I’ve never been afraid of dancing. I simply choose to forgo the dubious pleasure of having my feet stepped on while candle wax drips on my head.’

‘Sophie said you used to be a marvellous dancer. She used to watch you dance when she was a little girl.’

‘Sophie has altogether too loose of a tongue. It was a long time ago.’

‘You should get used to it again. If I can meet a dog, you can dance. It would mean a lot to…to Sophie.’

‘The two matters are unrelated.’

‘Are they?’ Henri crossed her arms. Trust the facts, indeed. ‘They seem to be the same thing. You want me to do something I fear, but at the same time you wish to avoid something you fear.’

‘Your view differs from mine. I’m not afraid of dancing. I simply no longer have time for something that frivolous.’

She gave an uneasy glance at Boy’s teeth and the way his tongue lapped at them as if he were sizing her up
for another meal. ‘If I meet Boy, will you at least dance with Sophie?’

His amber eyes blazed at her. ‘Prove it to me first, Henri.’

Henri drew in her breath. ‘I can’t make any promises, but I will try.’

A small light of respect came into his eyes and a great bath of warmth infused her body. She wasn’t going to do this for anyone. She was going to do this for herself.

‘Crouch down and hold your hand out palm upwards. Remember he has fears as well, but he wants to be your friend.’

Slowly Henri advanced forwards until her hand touched the dog’s velvet nose. The soft swoosh of breath tickled her palm, but the dog made no move towards her.

Behind she could sense Robert; even though he made no move to touch her, she knew he was there, willing her on.

With a hesitant finger she touched the dog’s ear and saw the massive eyes soften. ‘I accept your apology, Boy.’

The dog gave a low woof and it was all Henri could to keep upright and not run.

‘He is saying that he is pleased.’ Robert put his hand on top of hers. ‘Stroke his head. A firm but gentle touch.’

She reached out a hand, hesitated. She fumbled for her reticule and its good-luck charm, wincing as she realised that it was lying up in the sickroom. ‘I’m not sure about this. The omens aren’t good.’ The words seemed feeble.

‘Omens? You don’t need to rely on any superstitious
nonsense. One thing more. Allow him to become your friend.’ There was something in his eyes. ‘Please.’

‘Why? I think it would be better if we discussed Sophie and the ball. Have you made a list of eligible men who could partner her for the first dance if you will not?’

‘No.’

Henri blinked. ‘No? I’m certain if you sent word to Lady Winship, she’d be more than happy to help.’

‘Every time you want to divert attention, you start on about someone else’s problem. Your problem, your fears.’

Henri opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to think of the appropriate response. ‘That is preposterous nonsense.’

Robert reached out a hand, but she ignored his outstretched fingers. He was asking her to do far more than meet the dog. He was asking her to change her life and put her past behind her—to stop caring for others and start looking to her own happiness. And she knew in that heartbeat that she wasn’t ready to take the risk. What if she lost her heart to him? Could she live with that? She looked into his eyes and saw pity at her hesitation.

‘Is it so very hard to do, Thorndike, to let go of your fear?’ he asked softly.

‘You are asking far too much of me.’

Without waiting for an answer, Henri turned and fled back to the house, running with an unsteady gait.

Robert allowed his hand to fall back at his side and knelt down beside the dog. Boy nuzzled his hand.

‘I did it wrong, Boy. I misjudged it,’ he said. ‘I pushed her too hard.’

T
he next morning, leaning on a cane, Henri knocked on the door to Robert’s study. She had spent most of the night thinking about the incident with Boy, going over it in her mind. She had been wrong to fling those accusations at Robert. She had read far too much into his words. She had gone beyond the bounds of propriety and had behaved like a spoilt child, not much older than Sophie, taking to her room and refusing to come down for supper as her ankle hurt too much.

‘I wanted to apologise for my behaviour in the stable yard yesterday,’ she said, concentrating on the way his long fingers grasped the fountain pen rather than on his face.

‘Think nothing of it.’ His warm voice rolled over her. Somehow, his making light of it made her feel worse. She wasn’t asking for favours from him. ‘It happens. I asked too much of you. Your fear is real. It was wrong of me to discount it. I will remember that for the future.’

Henri stood still, shocked. She’d been prepared for
scorn and Robert appeared to be understanding. She clenched her fist.

‘I want to try again. I gave in to the fear. Running away solved nothing.’ She smoothed the folds of her skirts, hating the way her heart skipped a beat. She wanted to see the regard in his eyes rather than pity. The thing she hated most of all was pity. ‘Please can you help? Can you give me a second chance with Boy?’

His face became a wreath of smiles. The tension in Henri’s shoulders eased.

‘There’s no shame in asking for help. It’s what friends are for.’

‘But I hate doing so. Asking for help makes you weak.’ She licked her dry lips. Henri thought about her mother and how she kept demanding attention all the time. ‘The last thing I want to be is a clinging vine.’

‘Clinging vine
are not exactly the words that spring to mind when I think of you.’

‘Oh, what—obstinate and stubborn?’

‘Possibly.’ The dimple in the corner of his mouth deepened. ‘Stop fishing for compliments!’

‘Only you would understand what a compliment
obstinate
is!’

He offered her his arm, but she refused, gesturing with her stick. ‘We people of independent mind walk under our own power.’

‘You’re determined to prove your point.’

* * *

When they reached the yard, Boy clambered to his feet the instant she saw him. He strained slightly against the chain. But this morning, Henri could see he was only excited, rather than trying to hurt her.

Slowly she edged her way towards him, holding out
her hand. She wanted to lay her fear to rest, rather than hug it to her. She could change. Her past didn’t have to be a prison.

Gingerly she touched the dog’s head. The fur was silky smooth under her fingers. The dog settled down at her feet. ‘Pleased to meet you, Boy, again. I hope we can be friends now that you have been tamed.’

‘He wanted a bit of understanding and to know what the rules were,’ Robert murmured, his breath tickling her ear. Henri’s pulse started to do strange things.

‘Back to your rules.’ She struggled to breathe normally. ‘You’re only comfortable when you’re setting them.’

‘They do help keep things in order. Boy reminds me of my first dog, Jack. Jack was a faithful dog, always following my footsteps until he died.’

‘Were you upset when he did?’

‘Utterly distraught, but my mother gave me another dog for my birthday. And I found that I loved him because of Jack.’

‘So the dog wasn’t a replacement?’

‘I wanted a dog in my life. There is something about having a dog to come home to. And the risk of losing it was not as terrible as not having a dog.’

Henri studied the pattern of the cobblestones. What he said might be true for dogs, but not for people. She’d never wanted an abstract husband to share her life with. Just any man wouldn’t do. Edmund was irreplaceable. And losing him had hurt too much.

She liked Robert. Anything more would be complicating things and the last thing she needed in her life was more complications, more possibility of being hurt.

‘I will take your word for it,’ she breathed.

The dog lifted its paw and placed it on her knee, breaking the spell. ‘How did you tame him so quickly?’

‘After a fashion, but I fear he has not learnt all his manners.’ Robert gestured and the dog lay down at their feet. ‘He has left a dirt print on your dress.’

Henri started to rub it, but it seemed to get worse. A tiny cry of frustration escaped her lips.

‘Allow me.’ His fingers moved hers away and, with a few deft strokes, the patch of dirt was gone. Where his fingers had touched her gown, it seemed a warm sensation grew within her. He stood, unmoving. The gentle breeze ruffled his dark hair. ‘You’re free from blemish.’

‘Would that everything was so easily solved!’ Henri gave a smile and turned back towards the house. Her limbs trembled. It would be so easy to turn into his arms and lift her lips to his. This time she wanted a proper heart-stopping kiss, rather than a gentle brush. But with all the stable hands and gardeners about, it would be madness. One simple locking of lips in public and her entire reputation could be in jeopardy.

‘The best things are worth waiting for.’ He kept step with her slow pace. Her entire being was aware of him. She wished she dared lean on his arm, but instead concentrated on moving steadily.

‘Has Sophie sorted out her gown?’ Henri asked when they had nearly reached the door. ‘Will she dance with whomever she wishes? With Sebastian? Or will she be forced to cut him dead?’

‘It is up to Sophie whom she dances with. Cawburn has not had the courtesy to answer her letter. Neither has he visited you here.’

Henri kept her shoulders steady. ‘He hates sickrooms.

Always has. He never visited Edmund once he found out how ill Edmund was. Edmund forgave him, of course, so I had to.’

He shook his head. ‘That doesn’t excuse him. He should have.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’ Henri regarded the brass door handle of the front door. Faced with Robert’s concern, she found no easy lie sprang to her lips. Sebastian and her aunt’s not visiting did hurt, but she understood what they were like, and once she returned home, she knew they would react with concern. There were other more important topics to discuss. ‘Have you spoken to Sophie?’

‘You told me to listen to Sophie and I have.’ He looked at her with a steady eye. ‘Yesterday. After you walked away. I needed to know the truth about what happened with your cousin.’

Henri started. Robert had spoken with Sophie and, what was more, believed her. Her work here was done. As soon as she could find a good excuse, she’d go before the supper party. And then her world could go back to how it was. The only trouble was that she wanted to be here with him. She drew a deep breath. ‘What is your conclusion?’

‘She has done nothing to be ashamed of. I can trust her judgement. She needs to be properly fêted at the ball. I will make the sacrifice and dance, Thorndike.’

* * *

‘And you are coming to the ball, Lady Thorndike?’ Miss Armstrong asked with a faint frown as the servants finished serving the dessert. Throughout supper she had kept peering at Henri and finally it appeared Miss Armstrong’s curiosity had the better of her manners. ‘Lady Thorndike, I have always said that you had the potential
to lead fashion if only you’d give up your devotion to mauve. The dress is distinctly—’

‘I like mauve,’ Henrietta said between gritted teeth. Potential to lead fashion, indeed. She
set
fashion in Corbridge. She gave advice on fashion. Her enforced absence from the social scene had obviously given some people ideas. And mauve was practical. She had simply exchanged the day bodice of her mauve skirt for the evening one with a décolleté neckline trimmed with a profusion of lace.

‘I myself am attempting a negligent attitude with a Grecian scarf worn over a Spanish bombazine and a Cossack petticoat. It is the very essence of this Season’s cosmopolitan style,’ Mrs Ravel confided in a stage whisper. ‘What influenced your dress?’

‘Northumbrian weather,’ Henri said firmly.

She heard a sound of choked laughter from Robert’s end of the table.

Mrs Ravel’s brow puckered as the remark appeared to sail over her head. ‘But will you change your mind about the ball, Henrietta? We do have room in the carriage.’

‘My ankle will give way if I stand for a long period, so I’ve sent my regrets.’ Henri practised perfecting the bland society smile. ‘Doctor Lumley confirmed this view earlier this afternoon.’

‘However, Lady Thorndike insisted there was no need to cancel our little supper party,’ Robert interrupted, an urbane smile on his face. ‘I’m very pleased that she decided to grace the table with her wit and charm.’

‘Quite sensible to give the ball a miss. One must always follow the good doctor’s instructions. You were kind to ask the dear doctor.’ Miss Armstrong gave a decided nod, making the trio of feathers on her headdress
sway. Her hair was distinctly more yellow since the last time Henri encountered the woman and her gown’s décolleté neckline bordered on indecency, even if Miss Armstrong did keep it hidden underneath a lacy shawl. ‘I know I value his advice, but he is terribly busy with his practice. So many patients to see, so little time for anything else.’

Henri kept her mouth shut and exchanged an amused glance with Robert. Did he remember about how Miss Armstrong had feverishly pursued the good doctor last spring? Or he had forgotten?

‘I never planned to go against the doctor’s wishes, but they did coincide with mine.’ Henri inclined her head. ‘I’m looking forward to hearing all the doings. Sophie has promised that she will tell me every detail.’

‘I am sure you had a hand in her decision, dear Mr Montemorcy. Lady Thorndike is well-known for her stubbornness and her lack of regard for her personal health. She goes out visiting the poor in all sorts of weather.’ Miss Armstrong fluttered her lashes and her voice rivalled treacle for its sweetness as she toyed with the few final bites of the pudding. ‘After all, how could she refuse you such a simple request? You did play the Good Samaritan. I suppose, in the circumstances, it was necessary.’

‘Robert has always been very good to those less fortunate than himself,’ Mrs Ravel said.

‘I rather think it was how fortunate I was to have Lady Thorndike grace my home. She has provided the Ravels with interesting conversation.’ Robert inclined his head and his gaze lingered on Henri, travelling slowly down her neckline. ‘There is nothing unfortunate about Lady Thorndike.’

‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ Sophie called out from where she sat between two elder statesmen of the village. ‘Lady Thorndike does add a certain lustre to the supper.’

Her stepmother gave her a quelling look, but Sophie appeared to be unrepentant.

Henri forced her attention on to the flickering candles, rather than looking at Robert. Miss Armstrong’s insinuation that somehow she had caused Robert to rescue her and that she was imposing caused her blood to boil!

The only thing she was waiting for was for Doctor Lumley to inform her that it was safe to return home. She had no desire to be here at this dinner party, making small talk when she was incredibly aware of the man sitting a little way from her. Robert Montemorcy had a knack of complicating her life.

‘I was lucky Mr Montemorcy happened to be there,’ she said, adopting her best social voice.

‘Some people seem to have a way with accidents,’ Mrs Ravel said. ‘I’m dreadful. I never know what to do. Far better to let cooler heads take charge is my philosophy.’

‘People rarely plan to have an accident, Mrs Ravel.’ Henri gripped her fan a bit tighter. A little over a week being looked after and everyone appeared to forget that she was extremely capable. She’d gone back to the intolerable cotton-wool. ‘I actively try to avoid them.’

‘But Mr Montemorcy was certainly a hero in rescuing you.’ Miss Armstrong’s feathers bobbed in agreement. ‘Corbridge is lucky to have someone like you, Mr Montemorcy.’

‘And I didn’t act the hero either. I simply grabbed the dog’s collar and prevented anything else happening,’
Robert said smoothly. ‘Doing what is right takes little thought. Had Mr Teasdale paid attention to Lady Thorndike’s earlier suggestions, it is doubtful if the dog would’ve ever escaped.’

Henri exchanged glances with Robert and a warm glow infused into her being. He understood. It had been a long time since anyone had understood her in that way.

‘Was the dog destroyed?’ Miss Armstrong gave a small shiver and pulled her lace shawl tighter about her shoulders while simultaneously letting it drop at the front to reveal the depth of her décolleté. ‘I would’ve demanded the dog be destroyed if it had attacked me. You would have done that for me, wouldn’t you, Mr Montemorcy?’

Henri’s stomach clenched. Miss Armstrong seemed determined to stake her claim to Robert. Whereas the situation would have amused her a few weeks ago, now she wanted to make a cutting remark.

‘Would you, Miss Armstrong?’ he said, gesturing towards the hall. ‘It’s fortunate for Boy that he attacked Lady Thorndike as she possesses a much more forgiving nature.’

‘You mean the animal remains alive!’ Miss Armstrong gasped. ‘I have need of my smelling salts.’

‘Mr Montemorcy has taken ownership of the dog,’ Henri said and watched Miss Armstrong flush further in indignation. ‘He is training it. The dog has entirely changed.’

‘But…but…dogs like that are not to be trusted,’ Miss Armstrong cried. ‘You must be mistaken, Lady Thorndike. Mr Montemorcy, please tell Lady Thorndike to stop her funning.’

‘Mr Montemorcy has worked miracles with the dog.’ Henri pushed back her chair and stood. She gave a perfunctory curtsy towards the assembled group. ‘We’ve become friends. I believe Boy was attempting to rescue me rather than trying to eat me.’

‘You have made friends with the dog?’ Miss Armstrong screeched. ‘But I thought you hated dogs, dear Lady Thorndike. It’s why Lady Winship had to take all the pugs.’

‘All Boy wanted was a kind word and a full belly.’ Henri ignored Miss Armstrong’s interjection. Lady Winship
had
wanted those pugs in her life. She simply hadn’t realised it the first time she encountered them. ‘Mr Montemorcy is its acknowledged master now. And he assures me that the dog was trying to rescue me from the post-coach.’