"I'm sorry."
"Please don't apologize." He stood. "I... ah... I think I might slip out of the house and go for a swim. There is a pond not too far away, and I hear it is very cold."
Much to her horror, she giggled.
He tried to look stern but didn't quite manage it. He leaned down and kissed her one last time, his lips gently brushing against her brow. Then he walked to the door and placed his hand on the knob. "Ah, Henry?"
"Hmmm?"
"We'd better make that four weeks."
Chapter 19
Dunford sent a messenger to London the next day to place an announcement in the Times. Henry was inordinately pleased by his haste to announce the engagement; it seemed yet another sign he loved her with the same devotion she felt for him.
Belle and John arrived the next morning in time to join the two couples for a late breakfast. Belle was very pleased although not terribly surprised at Dun-ford and Henry's announcement. She had known, after all, that he was planning to propose, and anyone who had ever seen Henry so much as look at him would have known she would accept.
After lunch the three ladies were sitting in the appropriately named sitting room, discussing Henry's new status as a betrothed woman.
"I hope he did something terribly romantic," Belle said, taking a sip of tea.
Henry delighted them both by blushing. "It was, ah, sufficiently romantic."
"What I don't understand," Emma said, "is when he had the opportunity to propose. He hadn't done so before dinner last night, unless you were keeping a secret, which I don't think you were because, frankly, I do not see how you would be able to keep so large a secret."
Henry coughed.
"And then the two of us retired to the parlor, and then we all went to bed." Emma's eyes narrowed. "Didn't we?"
Henry coughed again. "Do you know, I think I really could use a bit more tea."
Emma smiled wickedly and poured. "Have a sip, Hen."
Henry's eyes slid warily from cousin to cousin as she raised the cup to her lips.
"Has your throat recovered?" Belle inquired sweetly.
"A bit more tea, I think," Henry hedged, holding the cup out to her hostess. "With a bit more milk."
Emma picked up the milk and splashed some into Henry's teacup. Henry took yet another sip and then, glancing up at the two pairs of eyes regarding her with devilish purpose, drained the cup. "I don't suppose you have any brandy."
"Out with it, Henry," Emma ordered.
"I... ah... it's a bit personal, don't you think? Really, I don't see either one of you telling me how your husbands proposed."
To Henry's surprise, Emma flushed. "Very well," the duchess said. "I won't ask you any more questions. But I have to tell you..." Her words trailed off, and she looked as if she were trying to figure out how to say something extremely indelicate.
"What?" Henry asked, unapologetically enjoying Emma's discomfort. The duchess had, after all, been enjoying Henry's discomfort not two minutes earlier.
"I realize," Emma said slowly, "that part of the reason Dunford asked us to host you in a house party was because he realized we would not be the most stern of chaperones."
Belle let out a little snort of laughter. .
Emma glared at her cousin before turning back to Henry. "I am sure he supposed he would find a way to get you alone, and I certainly understand that he would want some time alone with you. After all, he does love you." She paused and looked up. "He does love you, doesn't he? I mean, of course he does, but he has told you? Men can be such beasts about that."
Henry's cheeks pinkened a touch, and she nodded.
"Right," Emma said crisply. She cleared her throat and then continued, "As I was saying, I do understand your desire, er, perhaps that is the wrong word—"
"'Desire' is probably quite appropriate," Belle said, her lips twitching with barely restrained laughter.
Emma shot another dagger-like glare at her cousin. Belle smirked back at her, and the two ladies continued this rather unladylike behavior until Henry cleared her throat. Emma immediately straightened, looked at Henry, and then, unable to resist, shot Belle one last glare. Belle responded in kind with her cheekiest of smirks.
"You were saying?" Henry said.
"Right," Emma said, not quite as crisply as before. "All I was going to say was that it is certainly all right to want to be alone with him, and"—she blushed, the effect almost comical against her bright red hair—"it is probably all right to actually be alone with him from time to time, but I have to ask you to please contrive not to be very alone with him, if you know what I mean."
Henry hadn't known what she meant until the night before, but now she did, and she blushed hard, much harder than Emma.
Emma's expression revealed she had a feeling her message was coming too late. "These things just seem to have a way of getting back to Aunt Caroline," she mumbled.
Henry started to feel embarrassed, but then she remembered that Belle and Emma were her friends. And although she hadn't much experience with female friends, she knew that if they teased, it was only because they cared. She looked up jauntily, first into Emma's violet eyes and then into Belle's blue ones, and said, "I won't tell if you don't."
The rest of the time in the country passed very quickly for Henry. She and her new friends made outings into the nearby village, played cards until the wee hours of the morning, and laughed and teased until their sides ached. But the most special times were when Dunford managed to sneak her away, and they were able to enjoy a few stolen moments together.