The exception to all these trends was, of course, Oliver Cranshawe. He sensed that he was close to achieving the great goal of his life, and he intended to press his advantage. He was again on foot, nodding to acquaintances, smiling at them with easy charm. He joined the small crowd of men surrounding Henry's carriage, which she had drawn to a halt.
"Good afternoon, cousin," he called affably. I see that it is, as usual, well nigh impossible to get close enough to you to pay one's compliments."
Henry smiled. "But you always seem to find a way, do you not, Mr. Cranshawe?" she cooed.
"But, Henry," he continued, sending a sparkling smile in her direction, "you are not going to keep your husband's relative at such a distance, are you, and with a crick in his neck from gazing up at you? I should not refuse the offer of a turn in the park with you."
Henry's animated expression hid the near desperation that she felt as she looked around the group to see if there was any other man not on horseback, with whom she could claim a prior agreement to drive. There was none.
"I am afraid, sir, that I must return home soon," she said, returning her gaze to Cranshawe. "My husband and I have an early engagement this evening."
"Then let me ride with you to the park gates,' he said. "I have something I must tell you."
Henry bowed her head in unwilling acquiescence. While Cranshawe climbed into the high seat beside her, she laughingly engaged to dance with two of her eager admirers during the Spencer ball to be held on the evening of the following day.
She expertly turned the grays in the crowded pathway and started them in the direction from which they had come. "To the gateway it is, then, Oliver," she said grimly, staring straight ahead.
"Oh, come now, my dear," he said, "you need not be so stiff in my presence."
"I am not your dear, Oliver," Henry replied firmly. "And I cannot imagine anyone in whose presence I more wish to appear stiff."
He laughed softly. "Do you know, Henry," he said, when I first set out to befriend you, I thought it would be an utter bore. I was quite wrong. You are most delightful. I admire your spirit more than I can say. I look forward to unusual sport when you finally capitulate to me."
"Unusual sport is right!" she spat out. "You would go away with a few cuts and bruises for your pains, Oliver Cranshawe, if you even tried to behave improperly with me.
He chuckled again. "Soon now, Henry, you will have to admit that you have no choice," he said. "I offer you an easy way out, do I not? One night spent with me, and I shall give you a signed note to say that all your debt has been paid. You will be free, Henry."
"Do you think I would let you so much as touch me?" she hissed. "If you imagine that I would ever give myself to you for even one minute, you must have windmills in your head, Oliver."
He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice, though there was no one within hearing distance. "How do you know that you would not enjoy it, Henry?" he said. "I think your only experience so far has been with Marius, and I have good reason to believe that he would not make much effort to give you pleasure. I, on the other i hand, find that I have a genuine desire to find out what sort of passion you are capable of beneath the bedcovers."
Henry jerked on the ribbons and the horses drew to a halt. She turned on her companion, fury sparking from her eyes. "How dare you speak to me so!" she cried. "I am not so much in your debt that I have to listen to such indignities."
"Come away with me, Henry," he said, quite undeterred by her anger. "We will go to France and Italy, and I shall show you what life has to offer a woman of such vitality. "
"You can go to the devil, Oliver Cranshawe," she said. Then an arrested look came over her face. "What did you mean," she asked "by saying that you have 'good reason' to believe that Marius is not really interested in me?"
Cranshawe grinned. "I perceive that his opinion matters to you, Henry," he said, "What a shame, my dear. I have it on good authority that Marius married you only as a result of a rather sordid wager."
"What do you mean?" she demanded, chin jutting forward.
"It seems he was beginning to feel the need to find some female to breed," he said, flashing her his most brilliant smile, "to squash my hopes, of course. When he publicly announced that he despised all women and that it mattered not to him which female he chose, one of his cronies wagered that he would not, in fact, choose so carelessly. He was to choose himself a bride and marry her within some indecently short time. He won the wager, of course."
"You are a liar!" Henry cried. "Where did you hear such a stupid story?"
"Almost from the horse's mouth, my dear," Cranshawe replied. "Are you acquainted with Dick Hanley and his bride? They were sharing a box at the opera with Suzanne Broughton last evening. The wager was made at his bachelor party, it seems."
"I do not believe one word of what you have said," Henry replied. "You merely wish to discredit Marius in my eyes so that I will more readily comply with your demands."
Cranshawe laughed. "Henry, I do believe that you love the man, he said. "How very interesting, my dear. I see that we are close to the gates. I shall get down here. You will be hearing from me, Henry. I believe a few days will help you to see matters in a different light. I shall look forward to our eventual encounter. By the way, how do you like the grays?"
Henry stared stonily at him.
He smiled. "Marius did well out of the wager, did he not?" he said. "He had been trying for months to purchase them."
Henry whipped the horses into a trot and turned from the park entrance into the street at a daring pace. I don't believe it, she thought, I won't believe it. But she found it impossible to believe her own denials.
Philip was feeling rebellious. Manny was insisting that Pen and he stay in the schoolroom and do their lessons. The afternoon before she had refused to allow them to follow Henry when she had gone out alone in her phaeton. He had tried to convince her that his sister was in constant danger from the teeth and from the moneylender's spies, but Manny, for once, had remained firm.
"The dear duke put his trust in me at a time when I had been dismissed," she had said. "I feel it my responsibility to keep watch over you, dear children, and to make sure that you learn your lessons."
"But, Manny," Penelope had complained, "we can catch up with all that horrid work once we know that Henry is safe."
"She will be safe, never fear," Miss Manford had replied firmly. "Philip talked to Mr. Giles this morning and I talked to Mr. Ridley. He assured me that the duke himself is concerned and is doing his best to protect the dear duchess."
"But, Manny-"
"That will be all, dear boy," his governess had interrupted. "For the next hour we will converse only in French."
Penelope had groaned.
Philip, remembering a conversation with Eversleigh and a narrowly averted thrashing, had decided that it would be ungentlemanly to argue further.
"Blood and thunder!" had commented Oscar from the floor of his cage.
Now this morning Philip had escaped for a few minutes on the excuse that he would go to the kitchen for a tray of milk and cakes. He dawdled about the errand, wheedling the cook into letting him sample some jam tarts fresh from the oven, and watching an undergroom polishing the duke's riding boots. It was quite by accident that he arrived in the main hallway with his tray just when a messenger was delivering a small package to the butler and directing that it be placed in the hands of the Duchess of Eversleigh.