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He laughed. "I'm going to have to leave. You have by far surpassed me in the art of flirtation. I'm in serious danger of losing my heart."
"I should hope you have already lost it," she called out, watching him walk to the open door.
He turned around, his eyes burning with emotion. "I haven't lost it. But I did give it to a woman for safekeeping."
"And is she keeping it safe?" she asked, unable to keep a quaver out of her voice.
"Yes, she is, and I would guard hers with my life."
"I hope it does not come to that."
"As do I. But that does not mean I would not give it." He turned but paused before leaving the room. "Sometimes, Hen," he said, not turning back around to face her, "I think I would give my life just for one of your smiles."
A few hours later Henry was finishing her preparations for that evening's ball. As always, she felt a little shiver of excitement at the thought of seeing Dunford that evening. It was strange how, now that they had professed their love for each other, their time together had grown even more thrilling. Every look, every touch was so infused with meaning; he had only to glance at her a certain way, Henry thought wryly, and she forgot how to breathe.
There was a chill in the night air, so she donned a gown of midnight-blue velvet. Dunford came by to escort her, as did Belle and John, who arrived in their own carriage. "Perfect," Caroline declared, clapping her hands together. "With two carriages already here, there is no reason to have mine brought round. I'll, ah, I'll just ride with Dunford and Henrietta."
Dunford's face fell visibly.
"And Henry—that is to say my Henry," Caroline explained, "shall ride with Belle and John."
Belle muttered something about not needing a chaperone when she was married, but Henry was the only one close enough to hear.
The ride to Hampton House was fairly uneventful, as Henry had expected it would be. There certainly wasn't much opportunity for an "event" to arise with Caroline in the carriage. Once at the ball Henry was immediately swept away by the crush of the crowd, most of whom already had decided she must be quite the most interesting young woman of the year if she had managed to land Dunford with such apparent ease.
Dunford watched her parry comments with nosy dowagers and equally nosy young debutantes, decided she was handling herself just fine, and went off to get some fresh air. Much as he wanted to spend every waking minute with her, it wouldn't do to spend too much time by her side. They were engaged, that was true, so people would expect him to pay her a bit more attention than usual, but there was also some less-than-pleasant gossip concerning how exactly they had met. They had, after all, become engaged only two weeks after her arrival in London. Dunford didn't think any of the gossip had reached Henry's ears yet, but he didn't want to do anything that might fan the flames. He decided to give her a bit of time to socialize with Caroline's friends, all highly influential and with unimpeachable reputations, then he'd return to claim her for a waltz. No one could fault him one dance.
He wandered over to the French doors leading out onto the garden. Lady Hampton had had the area lit with Chinese lanterns, and it was nearly as bright outside as it was inside. He leaned lazily against a pillar and was contemplating his tremendous good fortune when he heard someone calling his name. He turned his head.
The Earl of Billington was walking toward him, a smile on his face that was mocking and self-deprecating at the same time. "I just wanted to offer you my congratulations once again," he said. "I don't know quite how you managed it, but you do deserve the best of wishes."
Dunford nodded graciously. "You'll find someone else."
"Not this year. Crop's pitifully thin. Your Henry was the only one with half a brain."
Dunford arched his brow. "Half a brain?"
"Imagine my delight when I discovered that the only debutante with half a brain actually had one in its entirety." Billington shook his head. "I'll have to wait until next year."
"Why the rush?"
"Believe me, Dunford, you don't want to know."
Dunford found that comment quite cryptic but pressed no further, respecting the other man's privacy.
"Although," Billington continued, "since it appears I will not be getting myself leg-shackled this season, I most probably will be looking for a companion."
"A companion, you say?"
"Mmm-hmm. Clarise returned to Paris a few weeks ago. Said it was too rainy here."
Dunford pushed away from the pillar. "I just might be able to help you out."
Billington motioned with his hand to the darker recesses of the lawn. "I had a feeling you might."
Lady Sarah-Jane Wolcott saw the two men walking toward the back of the garden, and her interest was immediately piqued. They had been conversing already for several minutes; what else could they need to talk about that would require even greater privacy? Mentally blessing the fact that she had chosen to wear a dark green dress that evening, she slipped into the shadows, moving quietly toward them until she found a spot where she could hide behind a large shrub. If she leaned forward, she could catch most of the gentlemen's conversation.
"... going to have to get rid of Christine of course." That sounded like Dunford.
"I certainly didn't think you'd want to keep supporting a mistress with such a lovely wife."
"I should have cut her loose weeks ago. Haven't been to see her since I returned to London. One must be delicate about these things, though. I really don't want to hurt her feelings."