Page 46 of Henrietta

‘Good sense would encourage me to decline,’ he agreed. ‘But whimsy … whimsy would have me accept. It might not be my purpose in coming to London, but I like to make myself amiable. What would you require from me?

Hetty shook her head. ‘There is no need. I shall confess everything – I ought never to have involved you, not even for a moment!’

‘But of course you had to! And, truly, there could be no better person for it.’

The dance drew to a close. Nicolet let out an exclamation of annoyance. ‘Oh, but we have so much more to discuss.’

Behind him, the footman was announcing new guests at the top of the stairs. Over the hubbub, Hetty could not hear the name or title, but by the excitement upon the air, and the stature of the lady who entered, this could only be the Grandduchess of Oldenburg.

‘Let us dance again,’ Nicolet said insistently, unheeding of this.

‘We mustn’t,’ she said wretchedly. ‘Everyone will think us courting – and then I will have ruined your chances with the Grandduchess, on top of everything else. Nothing could be more unhelpful to that aim. I shall go now to Arthur and explain – tell him—’

But the Marquis would not release her hand. ‘No. No, don’t do that. I am wondering something. I am – indeed – on the cusp of a great revelation.’

He stood stock still, as a hunting dog when it has caught a scent. The ballroom began to fill up with new dancers.

‘Mightn’t you hop off the cusp?’ she suggested tentatively. ‘It is just that we need to clear the floor.’

Shaking himself to attention, he obeyed the pressure of her hand. ‘Do not, I implore, abandon your scheme just yet,’ he urged her. ‘I think – yes I do think this might be the very thing for us both.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We have not time, now. I shall deliver you back to your chaperone; indeed, I am most desirous of meeting the charming Lady Allerton, whom I feel I know already.’

Until she fully understood his intentions, Hetty was not sure that was a good idea. ‘I don’t see her …’

‘Hetty, darling!’

Alas, Lady Allerton had taken this choice away from her. The news that her protégée had taken to the floor with the Marquis had spread sufficiently quickly across the room so as to bring her to the scene, and she greeted Nicolet with open arms and an instant charm offensive.

‘Welcome, my lord, to England!’

Without a beat of hesitation, the Marquis returned fire. ‘But I will not believe you to be Lady Allerton! It is impossible, you are but a child!’

Lady Allerton gave an appreciative chuckle. ‘Oh, pish posh!’

They sparred back and forth for a few moments, both so plainly enjoying themselves that Hetty spared a thought to wonder what Arthur would think if she lost her fictional lover to his mother. The arrival of Trixie, whom the Marquis pronounced as seeming like Lady Allerton’s sister, eased matters somewhat.

Trixie looked from the Marquis to Hetty with dawning comprehension and mouthed: The Belgian?

Hetty avoided her eyes. Trixie took this as assent. ‘Will you call upon us, my lord?’ she requested, with sweet impetuosity. ‘We should like that above all things.’

‘I should be delighted! Only give me your direction and I shall be there!’

A tiny frown appeared betwixt Trixie’s brows. ‘But surely you know it, already?’ Had not Hetty said that they had exchanged letters?

‘Yes, of course I do – what a fool I am!’ Nicolet agreed swiftly. ‘Only – my deplorable memory, it is … number seventeen?’

‘Almost!’ Lady Allerton trilled. ‘It is number eight Berkeley Square.’

‘Don’t go to number seventeen,’ Trixie advised. ‘They are awful.’

‘Trixie! But yes – number eight, my lord. I have already requested Lady Davenport bring your delightful sister to visit us: Mademoiselle Isabelle is such a charming girl! Your aunt can be very proud of the pair of you!’

The Marquis thanked her, promised he would visit at his earliest convenience, bowed, winked at Hetty, and made his farewell. Hetty watched his departure with some misgiving. The correct thing to do, of course, would be to take this experience as fair warning that deceit and lies would always emerge, eventually – and confess now, to Arthur, everything. Except … she did not think Nicolet likely to expose her deception, not while it seemed to be amusing him so. Was a full confession necessary?

‘Is he your Belgian paramour?’ Trixie tugged on Hetty’s arm eagerly. ‘I knew it! Was he the same as you remembered?’