A Prince for Aunt Hetty (15 page)

Round and round the questions and doubts flew as she stood there. She felt him lean even closer.

Finally he spoke. “Hetty, I think I --”

“Hetty?” The front door opened and spilled light out to where they were standing. They sprang apart like guilty adolescents. Agatha stuck her head out the door. “Hetty?”

“Yes, Agatha?” Hetty tried not to sound annoyed.

“Is someone out there with you?”

“Just your neighbor,” Rupert spoke. His voice sounded completely normal. “I came to see how the little one was doing. Hetty just happened to be outside taking some air.”

“Oh, that's fine,” Agatha seemed distracted. “I just wanted to see where you were and tell you that I am going to rest for a bit. Jonathan is with Stephen now.”

“I will be right there, Agatha.”

Her sister drew her head back in but left the door cracked open so that the candlelight spilled over the front drive. She and Rupert were just out of its reach.

“Well, then,” Hetty stated.

“Yes,” Rupert said. Neither of them moved.

“Goodnight, Rupert.”

“Goodnight,” he replied. Hetty turned and started for the open door.

“Hetty!” His voice was rough and loud. Before she could turn, he had grabbed her arm and spun her around. His lips found hers for a brief, exquisite moment and then he was gone. She watched Rupert's shadow as it blended once again into the woods, too stunned to say anything.

After nearly thirty years since the last one, a man had just kissed her and she didn't know what to do with herself.

It was good that it was her turn to watch Stephen. She certainly didn't feel like sleeping.

Chapter Eleven

I
T WAS NEARLY
dark. His backside was sore from riding all day. And his temper was growing. Had anyone asked him at that moment, Rupert Henderson was ready to curse London and all the people living in it, especially the ones who demanded his immediate presence.

But his bad mood couldn't all be thrown at the doorstep of the summons to London. Only most of it. As he navigated the narrow roadways of London, Rupert thought about what he had left.

Of course he'd wanted to kiss her. He'd wanted to kiss her from nearly the first time he'd met her. But he hadn't meant to, really. A woman like that would never welcome the kiss of a man like him. How could she? A sophisticated woman of the town. She'd probably had her share of admirers. And he suspected she knew enough to see through all of their antics. So why on earth would she even entertain his admiration for her? She didn't need it.

But there she'd been last night. Almost as if she was waiting for him especially. He'd meant only to leave his sympathies at the door with Mr. Sylvester, but there she'd been.

And then he'd kissed her.

Even all these hours later, the tingle of their brief contact still vibrated on his lips. And each time it did, he cursed the urgent summons that had come from London just after he'd returned home.

Rupert rode toward the gates in front of him, approaching the guards slowly. He felt their eyes on him as he rode up. Without speaking he handed a piece of paper to one of them, who read it through and looked Rupert over carefully.

“Welcome, Mr. Henderson,” the guard said and then waved him through. The other guards opened the gate.

He trotted Lady through, giving a nod to the guards. It had grown full dark now, so they probably did not notice the gesture. But he did it anyway, knowing that the people who worked here needed all the acknowledgment they could get.

The large house in front of him might have impressed someone who'd never seen it before, but Rupert was immune to the sight, especially in the mood he was in. If he was honest with himself, he'd hoped never to see this house again. That was part of his move to the country. It hadn't seemed to work, though, since he was now losing count of the number of times he'd been summoned back. It seemed they couldn't live without him for too long. He'd just been here anyway. What could have possibly changed in that time that required a cryptic summons in the middle of the night?

Rupert sighed and dismounted. He walked Lady around the back of the house to the stables and handed her one of the grooms.

“Welcome back, sir,” the young man said.

“Thank you,” he paused in expectation, somewhat ashamed that he didn't not remember the boy's name.

The young man supplied his name. “Joshua, sir.”

“Thank you, Joshua. Treat her well for me.” He patted Lady lovingly. “She's had a hard ride today. And please have my bags taken into the house.”

“Of course, sir.” The boy bowed and took the reins from him.

Rupert turned toward the house and the entrance to the kitchen. He didn't think he could face his task without some refreshment first. He just hoped Mrs. Pater was not too busy for him.

He heard the bustle of activity even before he entered. The scene that met him was a familiar one. Mrs. Pater, the cook, and her assistants were all rushing from one side of the kitchen to the other, shouting out orders and questions across the room. Their voices joined the clatter of pots and pans as they stirred sauces and warmed meats and vegetables for all of the dishes they were no doubt preparing for their master.

Amid the din, he heard his name.

“Well, I'll be! Look who's come back to us. Mr. Henderson!”

He located the diminutive Mrs. Pater making her way towards him. As she reached him, he grinned and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

“Mrs. Pater! A ray of sunshine in the dimness of the London winter.”

She batted him on the arm. “Always the flirt, Mr. H.” She winked. “But what brings you back to London? I'd thought we'd finally seen the last of you.”

“You
hoped
you'd seen the last of me, you mean,” Rupert grinned.

“Of course not. You know you were always my favorite.”

“I won't let Thomas know that!” Rupert laughed.

“You'd better not!” Her eyes went wide in mock alarm. It was a longstanding joke between them. Rupert had given her quite a bit of trouble in his life, but he loved the woman like a mother.

“Have they gone in to dinner yet?” Rupert asked.

“Not yet,” Mrs. Pater rolled her eyes. “We're trying to keep the sauces warm. I should have known that an early dinner time was too good to be true. No rest for the weary. I just hope my meats keep until they get ready to eat. And I suppose your arrival will mean a further delay.”

“I hope not. I did not plan on joining Thomas and whatever guests he has tonight for dinner.”

“Why
are
you here anyway?” she asked. Mrs. Pater liked to know all of the gossip in the house. He was surprised she hadn't heard anything about his being summoned.

“You could probably tell me more about it than I can. I received a letter late last night that demanded my immediate presence in London.

Her brow knit in thought. “Hmm... I don't know why. I haven't heard about anything that might require us to drag you back to the city you were so happy to leave.”

“You are no help at all, Mrs. P,” Rupert shook his head. “I guess I must go see Thomas and get my information straight from the horse's mouth.”

“Or from the horse's ass,” she mumbled. “Come back to me for some food if you decide not to eat with them.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Rupert kissed her on the cheek again and walked out of the kitchen.

With the habit borne of long residence in a place, Rupert made his way up the stairs and to the study, where he knew he would find Thomas enjoying a few drinks before dinner. It was a nightly ritual no matter who was visiting. Rupert thought he might even indulge tonight since he'd forgotten to get something in the kitchen. Perhaps that would lighten his mood and make his backside ache less, or at least help him to forget about both of those problems.

Though he knew Thomas expected him, Rupert was still wary of interrupting something important, so he listened carefully as he approached the door. He heard a number of voices, all male and all of which seemed a little too loud.
How late is it?
Rupert wondered.
And how long have they been drinking?
Loud guffaws were his answer.

Rupert opened the door and stepped into the room. It took only a moment for the inhabitants to realize who had arrived. Then he was met with a chorus of loud, deep voices shouting his name.

“Henderson! You've come!” His host approached him with one hand outstretched and the other clutching a half-empty tumbler of something golden brown in color.

“Of course, I've come, Thomas, you sent for me.”

“Did I?”

Rupert was about to curse but then he caught the glimmer of mischief in his host's eye. A glimmer that Rupert knew grew brighter the more liquor the man had imbibed.

He'd known Sir Thomas Lawrence for more years than either of them cared to count. Rupert had been a resident here in his friend's mansion for a number of years before he'd moved to the country. The raucous parties and intense personal drama of his host had been attractive when Rupert was a younger man, but had lost their luster after he had reached the age of forty.

He would always be indebted to Thomas, though, for helping him do what he really wanted to do in life: paint. And it had been Thomas that had encouraged him to leave London. He'd even helped Rupert find his place in the country. So even though the man teased him now when he was really not in the mood, Rupert stood it for the sake of their long friendship.

Thomas led him to the large desk in the corner. He offered Rupert a glass of whatever it was they were all drinking and Rupert took it gladly. He sipped at it while they spoke.

“And how is country life treating you?” Thomas asked.

“As well as it was treating me the last time I came to visit.”

“How are your portraits coming along?”

“It was just the one portrait.”

“Of that woman you met, right?”

“Yes.” Rupert had mentioned her when they'd been discussing his work the last time he was in London, but he remained wary of saying too much.

The mischief came back into Thomas's eye. “And have you had the opportunity to further
interact
with this woman?” He emphasized the word in a way that Rupert could not misunderstand.

“I have met her a few other times, yes.”

“You know that's not what I meant!” Thomas protested.

Rupert grinned. He liked teasing Thomas almost as much as the man liked teasing him. “I know what you meant and I am too much of a gentleman to answer.”

“Lads!” Thomas called to the other men in the room. “Henderson seems to have found himself a woman!”

“Wa-hay!” The others shouted and lifted their glasses. It was something of a joke among them that Rupert was the celibate one of the bunch. None of the other men could understand his lack of sexual interest in the pretty women he painted.

“It's not like that, Thomas,” Rupert protested.

“My good man, you're blushing. And if it's not like
that
, then what is it like?”

He downplayed it. “It's none of your concern, really.”

“That bad?” Thomas seemed disappointed. “You need to romance her.”

“It's not like that...”

“Man, every woman likes a little romance. She will be putty in your hands if you paint the portrait right.”

“I know, I know, Thomas. Your famous dictum about depicting the subject the way they want to be seen and not the way they actually are.”

“It's stood me in good stead for many, many years, my friend. Don't disobey the dictum.”

Rupert rolled his eyes. “Well, I might have more success with her if you would stop calling me to London every other day. I can hardly paint a portrait on a canvas that is forty miles away, can I?”

“Oh, but why I called you here is better than any portrait you have ever painted.” A sly glint appeared in his eyes.

“Good enough to draw me away from the work I was promised I could do in peaceful solitude?” Rupert was incredulous.

“Even better. Too good for you to refuse.” Thomas grinned and handed him a sealed letter he had drawn from inside the desk.

“What is that?” Rupert asked as he took it in his hands. The paper was rich and thick, of the highest quality. The front held his full name. He flipped it over and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The King's seal?”

Thomas smiled and nodded at him. “It is.”

“What is this?”

“Well, open it and see, damn you!” Thomas laughed.

Rupert broke the seal and carefully read and re-read the contents. He couldn't believe it. He looked up at his friend, who was still grinning at him.

“I told you it was too good to refuse, huh?”

“It is.” Rupert agreed, still a bit dazed from the last few minutes.

“To you, then,” Thomas raised his glass. Rupert raised his too and drank to the offer of a lifetime.