All in all the visit achieved its purpose. Hetty had excellent hopes that Sir Harry would be jealous and furious at Lord Harry for his poaching, an excellent combination. What, she wondered, would Sir Harry do? The numbskull. The princely numbskull.
It lacked but a minute to noon when Hetty slipped into her seat at the dining table, her gown slightly askew and one slipper loose on her foot.
There wasn’t the familiar newspaper in Sir Archibald’s hands. He greeted her with the enthusiasm of a parent who hasn’t seen his offspring in at least a decade. “My dear Henrietta, how very charming you are looking, my child. Ah, yes, just the picture of your charming mama.”
While Hetty gazed at him in some surprise, he turned to Mrs. Miller. “Serve the soup now, if you please. Then leave us, for Henrietta and I have much to discuss.”
Hetty’s eyes flew to Mrs. Miller’s face, to seek enlightenment. The housekeeper gave an infinitesimal shrug and went about ladling the soup, beef soup, thank the lord. Hetty felt a nervous knot begin to grow in her stomach. Up until now, Sir Archibald had always stood as an unmovable rock amid the uncertainties that surrounded her. Had he somehow discovered that his daughter wasn’t always what she appeared to him? She forced herself to sip at her soup, and waited.
Upon Mrs. Miller’s departure from the dining room, Sir Archibald said with great good humor, “Well, my dear child, I must tell you that I visited a moment with Lady Melberry last evening, after you had left her party.”
Oh, God, Hetty thought, paling, she’d told him about the pea green gown and the spectacles.
“She told me, Henrietta, that you were quite the popular girl. No, not dancing and all that folderol, but rather intimate conversations, one after the other.”
She felt a touch of amusement, for obviously the good Lady Melberry had found herself in a situation that required diplomacy of the highest order. “I think Lady Melberry perhaps gives over to a bit of exaggeration, Father,” she said finally.
“Now, my dear child, I applaud your natural modesty, but facts are facts.”
Whatever was he talking about? Sir Archibald leaned over and took her hand into his. “Do you like the Marquess of Oberlon, my dear? Lady Melberry thought that you quite encouraged his grace in his attentions.”
Hetty dropped her spoon, sending the beef soup over the edge of the bowl onto the tablecloth. “The Marquess of Oberlon,” she repeated. She shook her head. No, it was ridiculous. “Listen, Father, I promise I didn’t encourage his grace. Really, I barely spoke to his grace. I barely even saw his grace. He spent most of his time very far across the room from me, Father. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I don’t even like him.”
To her horror, Sir Archibald merely smiled at her indulgently. “A coy little miss you are, Henrietta, just like your dear mother. Why, I remember that she swore up and down to her parents that she didn’t care for me at all. Protested in that ridiculous manner until the day we were married.”
I have sorely wronged you, Mother, Hetty thought, remembering Lady Beatrice as a rather cold, constantly complaining parent. You were far more perceptive than I had ever imagined.
“Yes,” Sir Archibald said, “it wouldn’t be such a bad alliance. Cavander is, after all, a Tory, even though he doesn’t often appear in the House of Lords. Well, perhaps he’s never appeared in the House of Lords. He’s young. There’s time to train him properly. There is John, too. He and Cavander have been friends since they were up at Oxford together. No, my dear child, if you wish the marquis for a husband, I won’t forbid it.” He pursed his lips a moment, caressing his chin in thought. “Ah, I’ve got it, my dear. You’re such a shy little thing. I’ll call upon the marquess, perhaps invite him to dinner. Give him my approval. Yes, that will do the trick.”
She was close to fainting and shrieking at the same time. She drew a deep breath. Calm, calm. “No, no, Father, please. Listen to me. His grace has no interest in me whatsoever. I promise. He dislikes me. He can’t stand me. He thinks I’m ugly and a sorry excuse for a female, truly, you mustn’t. Why, the only reason he spoke to me at all was because he and Jack are friends. He was just being polite, nothing more. Please, Father, I don’t want to know Lord Oberlon better. I don’t ever want to see him again.”