And Then She Fell (Cynster 19 Cynster Sisters Duo #1) (20 page)

The quality of the smile that washed over her face was, to him, heaven and paradise rolled into one.

Then she pushed up in his arms, stretched up as if to kiss him, but just before their lips met, she whispered, “Yes, I will. With all my heart, and with all that is in me, I will marry you, James Glossup.”

Then she pressed her lips to his and sealed their pact.

L
ater, much later when they finally settled to sleep, James lay slumped on his back, with his wife-to-be a warm weight in his arms, and turned his mind to the next phase in his grandaunt-induced quest. He’d found his bride and secured her hand—now all he needed to do was keep it.

All he needed to do was discover who was trying to kill her, expose them, stop them, and all would be well.

Eyes closing, he sighed and relaxed.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would buckle on his armor and sally forth and slay her dragons, but, for tonight, all was well.

Chapter Nine

A
long with the rest of Lady Ellsmere’s houseguests, James and Henrietta quit Ellsmere Grange after a leisurely breakfast the next morning. No lurking danger had surfaced to disturb their sated slumber, yet James remained alert and on edge, although he made an effort to rein in any overly protective impulses.

Especially as Lord Ellsmere gave every indication of having already forgotten their previous evening’s conversation.

James knew what he knew, and his first concern was to get Henrietta safely back under her parents’ roof. To his mind, and even more to his instincts, she was now his—his to protect, to keep safe. As he’d driven his curricle to the grange, he rolled sedately along behind the Cynsters’ carriage, much to his horses’ dissatisfaction; only by traveling behind the coach could he be sure of spotting any threat, even if that meant eating a certain amount of dust.

Once they reached the cobbled streets of Mayfair, he turned off the direct route, tacking down several side streets to reach Upper Brook Street before the carriage; when it drew up before the Cynsters’ steps, he was standing on the pavement waiting to hand Henrietta down.

When he opened the door, Henrietta was sitting poised on the seat, eager to give him her hand; as he assisted her to the pavement, eyes bright, expression alight, she said, “It’s only just eleven. Mama and Papa should still be at home.”

Lips curving in an impossible-to-suppress response, he gave her his arm. “Let’s go in and see.”

The butler, Hudson, on admitting them to the house, confirmed that Lady Louise was in the parlor with Miss Mary, while Lord Arthur was in his study.

James exchanged a look with Henrietta, then drew a suddenly tight breath and said, “Please inquire if I might have a few minutes of Lord Arthur’s time.”

Hudson glanced from James to Henrietta, then beamed. “At once, sir.”

Hudson returned in less than a minute with the news that Lord Arthur was prepared to bestow as many minutes as James wished.

Henrietta met his gaze. “I’ll be in the parlor with Mama.” She squeezed his arm, then released him.

Feeling as she imagined a cat on a hot tin roof might feel, Henrietta watched James disappear in Hudson’s wake down the corridor to her father’s study. Then, dragging in a huge breath, she held it, paused for a moment to define what—how much—to reveal to her mother and sister, then she determinedly walked down the other corridor to the parlor the ladies of the family used for informal relaxation.

Opening the parlor door, she saw her mother and Mary sitting on the window seat, flicking through a stack of ivory cards—doubtless deciding which of the various morning teas they would attend that day. Both had glanced up; the instant they set eyes on her both straightened, alert, their gazes locking on her face.

Realizing she still wore her traveling cape and was clutching her reticule rather tightly, Henrietta went in, closed the door, then walked, carefully, almost tentatively, to stand before the window seat.

Her mother’s eyes searched her face, then Louise reached out and took one of her hands. “What is it?”

Henrietta dragged in a breath past the constriction that had suddenly cinched tight about her chest. “James . . . is asking Papa for my hand.”

For an instant her mother and sister stared, then both shot to their feet and enveloped her in simultaneous scented hugs.

“Excellent!” Releasing her, Mary all but bounced with delight.

“My dear, dear girl! This is wonderful!” Louise drew back to look into Henrietta’s face. “I’m so glad for you both.”

Henrietta smiled back, aware of the relief lurking behind her mother’s pleased and thoroughly satisfied expression; she knew Louise had started to worry that her activities vetting gentlemen for other young ladies would influence her view of gentlemen as a whole to the point that she wouldn’t accept any gentleman herself.

Glowing with maternal benevolence, reassured and expectantly thrilled, her mother released her and stepped back to the window seat, waving Henrietta to join her. “Come, sit, and tell us all about it.”

Henrietta obliged. Flanked by her mother and Mary, both eager to hear every last detail, she related an edited account of her and James’s association, repainting what her mother at least had taken to be a platonic friendship into something more closely resembling their reality. “So, you see, because of James’s grandaunt’s will, we’ll need to hold an engagement ball all but immediately, and we have to marry before the month is out.”

“Well,” her mother said, “you always did like to be different. And getting engaged and marrying in three weeks is definitely something different for this family.” Her mother beamed at her, then at Mary. “So we’ll all need to dive in and work together to ensure we pull it off.”

“I don’t want a big wedding,” Henrietta hurried to state. “We’ve had a surfeit of those—something nice and comfortable would better suit me—and James, I daresay, and our situation. Speaking for myself, I would prefer not to feel overwhelmed on my wedding day. I really don’t know how the others all coped.”

“Hmm.” Her mother tapped her chin with one fingertip. “Comfortable is as comfortable might be, at least in this family, but”—she nodded—“I’ll speak with the others and Honoria, and see how quiet we can make it.”

Mary had been jigging, waiting to ask something. She opened her lips, but a sound at the door had them all looking that way.

The door opened and Henrietta’s father preceded James into the room; one look at her father’s face told her that James’s suit had met with unqualified approval.

Beaming jovially, her father met her mother’s eyes, then focused on Henrietta.

She rose as he approached.

Her father took her hand and patted it. “Well, my girl, I understand celebrations are in order. Glossup here tells me you and he wish to tie the knot, heh?”

Henrietta’s smiling gaze shifted to James’s face; in her eyes, James saw nothing but unalloyed anticipation for, and confidence in, their joint future. In their shared life.

“Indeed, Papa, we do.” Closing her hand over Arthur’s, Henrietta smiled at her father. “I’m so glad you approve.”

“Approve? Of course! James here has told me everything I need to know.” Lord Arthur cast a paternally approving glance at James. “Very good job he did of it, too. No obfuscation and all aboveboard. I have no hesitation in bestowing your hand on him, my dear—none at all.” Lord Arthur tugged her closer. “Here—come and give your father a hug. This is a happy day for us all.”

Henrietta laughed and obliged.

“Indeed, this is a joyous event!” Louise pressed forward to hug James, then drew his head down to kiss his cheek before stepping back to meet his eyes. “Welcome to this family, James—and it’s simply a delight that we already know you so well. Simon will be thrilled.”

James smiled back, pleased everything had gone so smoothly, so relatively easily; Lord Arthur had been encouraging and understanding. Being a friend of Simon’s and long known to the family had significantly eased his path. “Thank you, ma’am.” Placing a hand over his heart, he bowed. “I will do everything in my power to live up to yours and Lord Arthur’s expectations.”

Louise beamed, patently pleased, and stepped back to allow Mary to hug him.

Henrietta’s sister was jigging up and down, it seemed with sheer exuberance. She planted a quick peck on his cheek—and insouciantly whispered, “Good job!”

The door opened and Hudson swept in with a bottle of champagne and glasses. In an expansive mood, Lord Arthur handed around the glasses, then offered a toast, “To James and Henrietta!”

They all duly sipped, then Lady Louise set down her glass and sank onto the window seat. She looked up at James and Henrietta, who had moved to stand beside him. “Henrietta has told me of your need to marry by the end of the month, which means your engagement will have to be announced and celebrated before that.”

Lord Arthur humphed. “The wedding will have to be by special license, but there’ll be no difficulty there.”

His wife quelled him with a look, one that, to James, suggested that the arranging of his and Henrietta’s betrothal and wedding was Lady Louise’s domain and she wasn’t about to brook any interference. “Naturally.” Her tone was faintly haughty. “However”—she looked back at James and Henrietta—“that means we have no time to waste in setting matters in train.” She focused on James. “I’m assuming you’ll be placing a notice in the
Gazette
forthwith?”

He nodded. “I’ll go to their office from here. The notice will appear tomorrow morning.”

Louise nodded. “Excellent. So”—she arched her brows—“when would you like your engagement ball to be held?”

Henrietta glanced at James, met his eyes, then turned back to Louise. “How soon can we host such an event?”

Without waiting to be asked, Mary rushed to the escritoire, retrieved an appointment book, and brought it to her mother.

Receiving the book, Louise opened it and flicked through the pages, eventually pausing on one, fingertip tapping, then she looked up. “A week. Seven days from today. We don’t want your ball to clash with too many of the major events, but that evening will do admirably.” She looked at Arthur. “You may start spreading the word to the male half of the family and your friends. Meanwhile”—Louise rose—“I’ll speak with Honoria immediately, and all the others, too.” She met Henrietta’s eyes and smiled with anticipatory relish. “It’ll be a rush, but we’ll manage it.”

Turning to James, Louise added, “As for deciding the wedding day, as I understand it, as long as your marriage occurs before the first day of June, all will be well—is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have to consult more widely before we can decide on a date”—Louise caught his eye—“but the family will want to informally celebrate your betrothal, so we’ll see you for dinner tomorrow evening, my dear.”

James inclined his head. “I’m hoping to meet with Simon today—I’m going to enjoy seeing his face when I inform him I’ll shortly be his brother-in-law.”

Louise laughed and patted James’s cheek. “He’ll be as delighted as we are.”

They left the parlor. Arthur returned to his study. James took his leave, bowing over Henrietta’s hand, then, his eyes meeting hers, he raised her fingers briefly to his lips before releasing her, finally dragging his gaze from hers, and walking out of the door a beaming Hudson held wide.

As Hudson shut the door, Henrietta sighed, amazingly happy and content, then she turned to see her mother dispatching her dresser, whom she’d summoned to fetch her cloak, bonnet, gloves, and reticule.

Turning to survey Henrietta, her mother said, “You’ll do as you are—the others would never forgive me if I didn’t give them this news as soon as humanly possible.” She turned to survey Mary.

Who was waltzing, twirling, a delighted smile curving her lips, a dreamy expression on her face.

Louise’s eyes narrowed. “I can understand that you might feel happy for Henrietta, but why, my darling Mary, are you so very overjoyed?”

Mary’s smile didn’t waver, but she halted. “Because I’m thrilled that Henrietta will now be able to pass on the necklace to me, and I’ll be able to get my search for my own hero properly underway.”

“Ah.” Louise nodded. “Well, in the meantime, I believe you should accompany us to St. Ives House—your aunt Helena will want to be informed straightaway, as will Honoria—so go and fetch your bonnet and cloak.”

“Yes, Mama.” Her exuberance undimmed, Mary rushed up the stairs.

Henrietta watched her go, and wondered. Mary rarely if ever lied, not outright, but she was a past master at deflection, and even though, as Henrietta understood it, Mary already had her hero in her sights, who knew what her little sister meant by “
properly
”?

Henrietta turned to her mother to hear Louise confirm for Hudson that “Miss Henrietta is, indeed, engaged to Mr. Glossup.” Her mother went on to sketch their current thoughts on the engagement ball and the wedding.

Hearing the words—words she’d heard so many times before about others, about her older twin sisters, her numerous female cousins—and knowing that this time those words referred to her, Henrietta again felt a species of amazement well.

The Matchbreaker had met her match, and was getting married.

It suddenly occurred to her that it was a very good thing that their wedding would take place as soon as could be. She seriously doubted her patience would bear with the quips and comments that would inevitably rain down upon her; luckily she would only have to grin and bear it for at most three weeks.

Not for the first time, she offered up a silent prayer of thanks for James’s Grandaunt Emily and her farsighted will.

O
n leaving the Cynster house, James drove his curricle the short distance to the mews behind the house in George Street he’d inherited from his grandaunt. Handing horses and curricle into the care of his grandaunt’s stableman—now his—he crossed to the house and found replies from both Simon and Charlie Hastings already waiting.

Reading the short notes, James snorted. He wasn’t surprised by the alacrity expressed; his request for them to meet with him at Boodles to discuss a major development had been intriguing enough, and the fact that his messages had been delivered by Lord Arthur’s footmen would have made the lure irresistible. Folding both missives, he quickly climbed the stairs; he needed to wash away the dust and change before showing his face in Boodles.