A Prince for Aunt Hetty (7 page)

“So what was the initial of your true love?” Rupert asked.

“Pardon me?” she blinked rapidly at him.

“The game... in the kitchen.” He felt unsure of himself again.

“Oh!” Recognition dawned.

“You and the children were... um... were figuring out the letter when I interrupted you.”

Miss Masters' smile was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “You saw that, did you?”

“Yes, I did. And as I am a curious man, I thought I would ask you.”

“Well, I don't think it had truly been decided what letter the apple peel had revealed. So I am afraid I don't know who might be my one true love.” There was a light tone in her voice that made him think she was teasing. At least he had gained that much from his silly opening gambit.

Rupert sighed theatrically. “What is the world coming to today? When one cannot even trust the prognosticating powers of an apple peel?”

She played along. “I know. In my childhood, I placed my absolute faith in the local produce. It is sad to see the world change so much in a mere forty years.”

“You know, I once had a potato as a best friend for a whole week,” Rupert confessed. “I told him all of my secrets.”

“Only a week? That seems a short friendship. What happened to him?” She was nearly laughing.

“He made a delicious snack.”

That put them both over the edge and their laughter pealed out across the room. All heads turned toward them.

“What's so funny over there?” Mrs. Hayes called out.

She answered. “Only two adults being very, very silly, Agatha.”

“Oh, that's alright then. As long as I'm not missing out on a good joke.”

“If I come across any good jokes, I shall be sure to share them, Mrs. Hayes,” Rupert offered. That was the end of the card players' interest in them. They went back to their games as Rupert faced Miss Masters.

“We were being very silly, weren't we?” he asked.

“Yes, we were,” she agreed.

“Although at our age, I believe we have reserved the right to be very silly on occasion.”

“At
our
age?” Miss Masters' eyes flashed. Rupert quailed. Had he undone the camaraderie of the moment? “How old do you think I am?”

Now he'd really done it. He should have known better than to mention age to a lady. Once a woman was past twenty, one should never, ever mention age. He tried to backtrack. “I mean, at
my
age...”

“Oh no.” She wouldn't let him back away from it. “You said
our
age and I would very much like to find out how old you think I am. You are on the hook now, Mr. Henderson.”

He looked Miss Masters full in the face and quickly saw the laugh there. She was not serious, thank God.

“Now, age is loaded question, madam. I shall have to study you more closely in order to make a guess.” He continued to look her full in the face. She did not shy away, as she had done earlier in the evening. Now she looked right back at him, studying his face as much as he was studying hers.

Her blue eyes were dark in the soft light of the room. But the humor that he'd seen just a moment ago remained. It looked at home there. If she ever grew angry, he imagined that those eyes would flash with powerful light. She would be formidable. Rupert was glad she looked at him now with humor.

The corners of her eyes were crinkled with laugh lines, as were the corners of her mouth. Even with her face relaxed as it was now, Rupert could see the hint of a smile. Her face had done it so many times, it was almost a permanent expression and he thought it suited her well. It also highlighted her plump lips, but he did not dwell long on those, feeling the heat of the room rise quickly.

“Hmm...” Rupert mused.

“Are you ready to make a guess, sir?” she teased.

“Must I?” He put on a scared expression.

She laughed at his false distress. “You brought it up. You must guess.”

“If I must... then I will say that you are not a day over...” he cringed, “... thirty.”

They both giggled, knowing it was an absurd number. “I thank you, Mr. Henderson, for that. But I am, in fact, nearing the ripe old age of one and fifty.”

“Never!” he exclaimed.

She nodded. “Truly. Although it would be nice to be thirty again.”

“Nonsense. You are entirely wonderful at the age of fifty.”

She looked startled at his compliment and then somewhat shy. “Thank you. I mean that I would wish to
look
thirty again.”

“As I said, you do not look that much older,” he smiled and she returned the expression easily. He was right. Smiling came very naturally to her.

“It is a maiden aunt's duty to remain perpetually youthful and vibrant until one day she wakes up a gray old maid.”

“From my point of view, you are doing an admirable job of the youthful and vibrant part, but I think I should enjoy seeing you as an old maid, as well.”

“Really?” she asked, puzzled. “You are a strange man, Mr. Henderson. I believe most men would declare just the opposite.”

“Most men would also not admit to having had a potato as a best friend,” he chuckled.

“Henderson!” Mr. Howett called him from across the room.

“Sir?” he answered, still chuckling.

“Come take my wife's place and her stake in this game. She says she is tired of cards and would much prefer to lounge on the sofa where you are.”

“Of course, Mr. Howett,” Rupert answered. He reluctantly rose from the sofa and bowed his head to Miss Masters. “I cannot refuse my new neighbor. Excuse me, Miss Masters.”

He felt her eyes on him as he crossed the room. He stood up straighter and lengthened his pace, though it was only a few steps to the table. Mrs. Howett's place faced where he had been sitting. He took up his position and concentrated on the game in front of him, trying not to let his gaze stray to the beautiful woman he'd left in the corner.

Though he thoroughly enjoyed the company of his neighbors, Rupert remained aware of Miss Masters for the rest of the evening. Even without looking he knew when she moved around the room and then when she took up Mrs. Wythe's place at the second table. He'd wended himself a little way toward her during their conversation this evening, but he still found himself frustratingly distant from the woman who intrigued him so much. He felt restless in a way he hadn't anticipated. And he decided he would have to do something about it.

Chapter Five

H
ETTY PUT HER
pen down next to the inkstand and yawned. It had been a late night, only ended when the wives' exaggerated yawns and overly loud hints had finally convinced the men to quit their card games.

They'd left everything to clean up in the morning and crawled into bed. Hetty had promised herself a very long morning in bed.

The children, however, had risen at the same time they usually did and proceeded to make as much noise as possible chasing each other up and down the stairway. And so Hetty had dragged herself out of bed, more in sympathy with her sister than because she truly wanted to. If Agatha must face the morning, then Hetty could too.

For the past two hours, Agatha had been annoyingly bright and cheerful. Maybe after six children she needed less sleep than a normal human being? Hetty could only guess. All she knew was that her jaw was beginning to ache with all the yawning.

Hetty shifted in her chair and turned toward where Annabella sat next to Agatha on the sofa. Her muscles groaned with use.

“How goes the lesson?” Hetty asked.

Agatha looked up at her sister and smiled. “Annabella is doing splendidly. She is a ready pupil.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hayes.” The maid beamed. Hetty had asked Agatha to give the girl some sewing practice while she was here, knowing that Annabella was eager to improve herself. Goodness knows, among all of the children there were enough rips and tears in every article of clothing to keep them sewing for weeks.

“I knew she would do well,” Hetty concurred. Annabella was a little high-strung at times, but she tried her best and was ever eager to please. She had also proved herself very loyal to Hetty. Heaven knew how she had survived the miserable days in the carriage coming here to Hayes house. Hetty had tried to show her how pleased she was with her progress in all areas.

“And how go your letters?” Agatha asked Hetty.

“Slowly, as always,” Hetty replied. “Everyone wants to know how Isobel's wedding was and all the intricate details of what she wore and what was said. More than once this last hour I have thought about setting the children to copying out my letter so I don't have to do it.”

Agatha's fingers moved easily over her sewing work as she talked. “I am sure they would do anything for their dear aunt. Although I cannot vouch for the legibility of the copies they will make...”

“Very true. I am nearly finished anyway. And I have saved the best for last.”

“Who?”

“Cat.”

“Isobel's sister? I am sure she will not need to know what was said or what Isobel wore.”

“Exactly,” Hetty chuckled. “And that is why this is the best letter!”

“And how is our niece?”

Hetty opened the letter from Cat and read some out loud. “She and all the family are well. She says they miss me.”

“Of course. As will we when you go away.”

“Cat says that the house is too quiet now that Isobel and Miles are married and gone off on their trip. She wants to know when I will be back in London so that she can come and stay with me.”

“And when
do
you plan to return?”

Hetty sighed loudly. “I don't really know. Maybe in a few weeks? I don't think I've had enough of my nieces and nephews yet.”

Agatha looked up at her sister. “Would you like to take some with you?” Her eyes flashed with humor.

“Hmm...” Hetty winked at her. “I think they might do better here in the country. Where are my little troublemakers, anyway?” Hetty realized she hadn't heard their usual ruckus in awhile.

“Jonathan was going to take them out with him this morning, to give us a rest and to let me catch up with the mending.”

Hetty shook her head. “I don't know how you could ever catch up with it.”

“Annabella is being a great help today.” The maid beamed again at the encouraging words. “But no, usually it is an endless round of mending.”

Their conversation petered out and Hetty turned back to her letter. Relieved to be writing about something other than wedding details, Hetty lingered over her letter to Cat, telling about all the silly things the children had been doing.

She lost herself in describing the party of the evening before and was startled when Mr. Sylvester announced that the post had been delivered.

“Oh no! I wanted to send these today.” Hetty looked at the pile of letters next to her on the table.

“Shall I catch the delivery boy, madam?” Mr. Sylvester asked.

“No, that's fine Mr. Sylvester, thank you. I will save them for tomorrow. One more day of waiting will do my recipients no harm.”

“Very good, madam,” he nodded to her. “Mrs. Hayes, is there anything that you need at the moment?”

“No, thank you, Sylvester,” Agatha said offhand. She was eagerly flipping through the letters to see who they were from.

The butler stepped into the hallway just as the children came screaming into the front room. Their father, looking considerably harried, followed. He gently moved children out of his way in order to collapse on the sofa next to his wife.

Annabella looked a little fazed as the children all crowded around their mother to tell her the exciting things they had done this morning. Agatha paid careful attention to them, every now and then stealing sly glances at her husband who would smile back at her when she did.

Hetty had witnessed such a scene before, of course. But she had never really watched for those little glances that showed the true intimacy between husband and wife. Agatha and Jonathan shared something together, Hetty saw. It was a confidence and a love that she sometimes wished for but had long ago convinced herself she didn't need. She had friends, a sister and brother, and more than enough nieces and nephews to fill up the places in her life that society said should be reserved for a family of her own. And yet...

Sometimes she thought it would be nice to have a partner. Of course, that would mean not being nervous and rude around a man she felt attracted to. And that's what she'd finally admitted to herself last night, that she felt attracted to Mr. Henderson. Not that she expected anything to come of it.

Hetty focused again on the happy scene in front of her. The children had moved into little groups around the room and Agatha and Jonathan were reading her mail. Annabella even seemed to fit into the scene, sitting in a chair next to Agatha with sewing in her lap. Everyone had a place in the comforting tableau. Everyone but her...

“Children!” Agatha cried. Everyone turned to her. Hetty shook herself out of her maudlin reflection.
I should know better than to ponder life when I am tried and hungry.