Patience and grace. He could afford to give those.
Inclining his head, he accepted her request. “Very well. Please let Louise know that in a fortnight we shall be traveling to London.”
“I shall do so.” She swept upward, the tight curl of her fingers against her skirts the only evidence of her distress. “Will we be visiting a library?”
“I don’t see why not.”
A smiled curved her lips then, and Dominic felt a sure and traitorous skip to his pulse. When she left, he stared after the door, the rapid beats of his heart a nonstop hammer in his chest.
He had told himself he would not allow anything beyond professionalism, and yet, in the few seconds it had taken to tell her about Old John’s blackmail, his feelings had slipped into a place of trust.
He trusted Henrietta. Not only with Louise, but also with his secrets.
He was sliding into something he had not anticipated, and he did not dare to think of where he might end up.
Chapter Fifteen
Henrietta grabbed the jar of chamomile and shook it until her forearms ached. She moved on to the next jar, until all of her tinctures had been shaken. Only a few more weeks and they’d be ready to mix into ointments, balms and other remedies.
“Do you have to shake them every day?” Louise sat propped on a stool, her legs swinging.
“If you want to do it right, yes.” Henrietta lined the jars neatly on the shelf. Cook had let Henrietta use the small room off the side of the kitchen as a place to mix and store her herbs. Many recipes required weeks of sitting in airtight jars before being ready for use.
“Dom said we shall be visiting London soon.”
“Yes, I meant to inform you of that,” Henrietta murmured, touching the feverfew she’d laid out on a cloth for drying. The plant bent beneath her fingertip, suggesting more time needed for adequate dryness. It had been several days since she’d seen the earl, and she was glad for it. Never had she felt so unsteady as when she’d left his office.
Apologize.
She did not want to. His challenge echoed within, stirring emotions she’d rather ignore. While she admired the way he’d seized control and demanded the apology, being on the receiving end of his authoritativeness rankled.
“Do you think I shall be able to attend a ball?” The uncertain waver in Louise’s voice pulled Henrietta from her thoughts. She crossed the room and sat down next to her.
“You are too young, as of yet, but perhaps in a few years. Your aunt may have a room above the ballroom, where you can watch the attendees.”
“Will you sit with me, if she does?”
Henrietta’s heart twisted at the somber loneliness in Louise’s voice. “I shall do my best,” she said quietly. “Shall we go search out new blossoms? Perhaps we will find a few caterpillars before they’ve all gone into metamorphosis.”
They headed to the gardens, which thanks to the added staff, appeared more manicured than when Henrietta had first arrived. Despite the changes, a lush wildness still remained. It was to the wildness that she and Louise traipsed in search of caterpillars.
“We will look for a guide to insects when in London,” she said, peering beneath a fuzzy green leaf. No caterpillar, but the striations on the leaf reminded her of veins in a human heart. “Look, Louise.”
The girl pattered over, dropping to her knees and dipping her head to peer at the underside of the foliage. Henrietta, on her knees also and propped on one hand, motioned Louise to adopt the same pose. “Do you see these lines here?” She drew her finger gently across the skin of the leaf, and Louise followed her movement. “When on the field, I met a surgeon who had previously performed...” She paused. The subject might not be suitable for a young girl. “That is to say, he had some experience with studying human hearts, and he showed me one. It was quite remarkable.”
“Where was the person the heart belonged to?”
Henrietta grimaced, edging out from beneath the plant while wracking her mind for an acceptable answer.
“Yes, Miss Gordon, where exactly is that person?”
She stood, brushing dirt off her petticoat whilst formulating a response. Louise shuffled out as well, and then jumped to her feet.
“Dom,” she cried, throwing her arms around him with little heed to the soil clinging to the folds of her dress. “I am so happy to see you.”
“As I am to see you,” he said, his voice lowering in a gruff way that touched Henrietta.
How very much his love for Louise reminded her of Uncle William. She brushed the dirt from her skirts while the two chatted. She blinked because her eyes stung a bit at the remembrance of her uncle.
She should write him again. Find out exactly where he’d be in two months’ time. By her calculations, she should have enough saved by then to join him.
“Could I speak to you, Henrietta?”
“You’re supposed to call her Retta.” Louise crossed her arms, but she smiled as she spoke.
“Of course. Now?” A bout of nerves jangled within. She wet her lips.
“Louise, could you please ask Cook for a few tarts? I wish to join you on your...is it a caterpillar hunt or a discussion of human hearts?”
“Both,” they replied in unison.
And then they all laughed, glittering chuckles in a flower-scented garden, and something deep inside Henrietta loosened. Like the lid on her herbs, kept tightly sealed until ready for opening. Was this what it was to feel like family?
She stuffed away the thought, for it brought to the surface both terror and longing.
Their laughter faded, and Louise ran off to find Cook. Which left Henrietta and Dominic in a dappled spot of sunlight. A tight band of emotion encircled her chest, pressuring her to speak, to break the silent camaraderie, but she pressed her lips together.
She had said quite
