Chapter 16 #2
Not that, certainly. He’d not even convinced her to like him; he shouldn’t ply her with such distasteful questions. Yet still, he needed the information.
“Mrs. Seymour . . . ” he began, intent on bringing up the smuggling, but nothing more.
“Look,” she said, pointing to the side of the path they had been walking along, near the still standing archway.
Henry turned to follow her pointing and was surprised to see Julia and Lord Jennings, who were conversing rather intently. Henry took a step toward them, caught between checking on his sister and elation that she had, of her own volition, entered into conversation with a man.
Mrs. Seymour put her hand on his arm, stopping him.
He looked back at her. “I think they are just fine,” she said in an undertone.
“We can interrupt if that seems to change. Shall we sit?” She gestured at one of the crumbling walls just steps off the path, and Henry followed her, though he shot a few more glances at his sister as he did.
“Have you always been such a matchmaker, Mrs. Seymour?” he asked as he watched Julia and Lord Jennings.
A bit of space from the topic, and he could see that now was not the time to press for more information about smuggling.
Mrs. Seymour seemed to hold her home in high esteem, and Henry could not afford to alienate her.
Nor did he want to.
Mrs. Seymour laughed, except it was not truly a laugh. More of an entertained exhalation. “I do enjoy it. But I simply try to invite good people and hope they get on well enough by themselves. George was always rather entertained that I tried so hard to find affection where there may be none.”
Her husband again. “Is that why you continue the effort? Matchmaking, I mean.”
“No. I do that for myself.” She straightened her shoulders. “But I do hope to make him proud.”
That was rather an odd response. He would have expected her to say something about her love for him or the mark he made on her life.
“I am certain you do.”
She bit her lip. “I am not so convinced.” She seemed to physically shake herself, eyes clearing. “But I try.”
That was surprising. “Why are you not convinced? How could he not be proud?”
She traced a seam on the back of her glove. “I have never been one for large groups, and they were George’s very favorite.”
“That must have been hard for you.” Must still be.
“I have adapted as I can; I did not wish to stifle his enjoyment. He met me on a particularly good night, and I acted rather uncharacteristically outgoing. Our courtship was quick due to his position as a commander; his time on leave was not long.”
Henry watched her, fascinated by the play of emotions on her face. One would appear for the briefest of moments before a genteel expression replaced it. It was a puzzle to read them before they disappeared.
“I believe he thought he was getting a very different wife than he did. He tried to teach me the best he could.”
“Teach you what?” Henry asked.
“To be a good hostess.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “So he only cared for how you appeared to others?”
She ducked her head in embarrassment, and Henry mentally kicked himself. “I am sorry, I did not mean that.” And here she’d seemed to forget her dislike of him for a time.
She lifted a shoulder in a gesture he believed was not truly as nonchalant as it was uncomfortable. “It is nothing. I do suppose that is close to what he wanted out of a wife. But he cannot be faulted.”
Henry disagreed, but he would keep that to himself. He didn’t want to cause her embarrassment again.
For something to do beyond continuing this line of conversation, he looked back to Julia.
“What do you know of Lord Jennings?” he asked.
Mrs. Seymour met his eye, hers wide in surprise. “You do not know him?”
Henry frowned, shaking his head. “Should I?”
Her brow furrowed. “I suppose I assumed—”
But suddenly the couple they’d stationed themselves near caught his attention more fully. Lord Jennings was closer than before. Too close. Julia’s legs were against a crumbling wall. Henry came to his feet.
Mrs. Seymour stood too, and this time she did not stop him.
“Julia!” Henry called.
The couple startled apart.
Julia looked around wildly, eyes closing in apparent relief when she found him. Had the man been about to kiss her? Out in broad daylight like that?
He stalked toward them, hardly noticing when Mrs. Seymour caught up to his side. But he certainly noticed when she darted in front of him.
“Miss Ainsley!” she exclaimed. “I was so hoping to show you the view from the southern part of the ruins. Have you seen it?” Without even waiting for her answer, Mrs. Seymour looped her arm through Julia’s and fairly dragged her away. Henry appreciated the opportunity to deal with Jennings alone.
Henry turned on the man, prepared to give him an earful on proper etiquette with Henry’s sister.
And yes, he was entirely aware how ridiculous he sounded, as a man who’d been trying to foist his sister into marriage. But he didn’t want her seen as fast. That would be terrible for her reputation and not help their situation in the least.
The man had the decency to appear ashamed, though he seemed unable to erase the grin from his expression. Despite the fact that Jennings had a few inches on him, Henry ought to plant him a facer. That’d take the amusement from him.
Of course, he was no pugilist—that was his friend Lucas’s realm. Henry could hold his own, though.
Instead, through clenched teeth, he gave the man a tight smile. “Lord Jennings, I don’t believe we’ve been properly acquainted. Come, walk with me.” He hoped he sounded as menacing as he intended.
Lord Jennings did not look appropriately worried. “I would enjoy a conversation myself, Sir Henry.”
Henry squinted at him, but pointed down the path. “Then let’s get to it.”