And there was his disease to think of. He mentioned it as being a wall between them. He worried for how it would affect his family’s reputation.
She did not care about reputation when it came to epilepsy. What kept her away was the knowledge that seizures could kill a man. And Henrietta could never again subject herself to the pain of losing her loved ones.
Just the thought of Dominic dying while in the thralls of a seizure rocketed her pulse. Could she subject herself to such pain? To add to that, he did not love her. Which was why what he had suggested would never happen.
“The only other option is if I stay on as governess, but I’m afraid I have no interest in that.” She did her best not to flinch while speaking, to be careful and pragmatic.
Dominic stepped closer, and now they were chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. Fanciful, and yet her pulse drummed beneath her skin in an unfamiliar beat. He bent his head close to her hear, his lips grazing the lobe.
“Are you afraid, Miss Gordon?”
“Never.” The expected response, though indeed an ice-cold fear flowed like sludge through her veins. If anything ever happened to Dominic, she could not bear the thought. She loved him, she realized suddenly. She loved him so very much that the idea of losing him brought a real and physical pain to her insides.
No, it was better to be far away from him. To cut ties now.
“I am deeply terrified,” he whispered in a husky voice that sent prickles down the nape of her neck. Before she knew what he was about, he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her flush against him. “But I am willing to take a chance, I think. If you are.”
And then his lips were whispering across her cheek, to greet her lips with a tenderness that soon turned greedy, quick and moist, and she was returning the kiss. She could not stop herself, could not deny the love roaring through her in tumultuous waves that destroyed her inhibitions.
She curled the fingers of her left hand in his hair, trying to remember not to drop the punch, but his kiss was rendering her fuzzy, incompetent. No doubt he had kissed many women this way. The thought put steel in her spine. She jerked away, her lips swollen and tingling, her anger ignited.
“I shall not be swayed by your flirtations.” Without thinking, without knowing why and acting in a way she had never tolerated before, she tossed the punch in his face, pushed past him into the ballroom and walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Louise burst into Henrietta’s room the next morning. The door slammed against the wall, startling Henrietta. She turned from her bed, where she’d piled various medical texts in an attempt to decide which ones to leave, and which ones to take.
“You’re leaving?” Louise’s pointer finger shook.
Sighing, Henrietta set down the book she’d been flipping through. “Next week.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“But I told you I would be.” Henrietta stood next to the bed, unsure. She’d spent a restless night, hardly able to sleep. Her stomach was sore, as if someone had punched her, and her chest hurt, though as far as she could ascertain, her heart rhythms were normal. She’d tried praying, but all she could utter were pleas for wisdom. Now she did not know whether to go to Louise and hug her, or perhaps just talk. Explain the situation in a rational way. Yes, certainly that would smooth things over. One could not argue with logic.
“It is the practical thing to do,” she said in a calm, unaffected voice of which she was quite proud.
“No, it’s not fair.” Louise stomped her foot. “I told them our plan wouldn’t work and they didn’t listen.” She burst into tears.
“Them? Plan?”
“You two are supposed to fall passionately in love and marry posthaste.”
Oh, this would not do at all. Henrietta rushed forward to hug the girl, but she turned and ran out of the rooms. She stared after her, that dreadful ache to her chest returning. Of course a twelve-year-old could not understand. It was unfair to expect her to.
It was, however, quite fair to expect her guardian and his lady friend to understand. Setting her jaw, she marched to the main hall. The entire way she fumed. A setup. Who did they think they were?
Had her love of medicine fooled her uncle into thinking she was no longer that strong-willed fifteen-year-old who had forged her own path? That girl was still inside, and she was seething.
She shoved the door to the study open, but there was no one inside but a startled maid, who let out a tinny screech.
“I beg your pardon,” Henrietta said without thinking. And since she was already talking, she continued, “Do you perchance know where her ladyship is?”
“In—in the gardens, Miss Gordon.”
“Thank you.” She backed out and hurried to the gardens, fury strengthening her steps.
They were exactly where she expected, sitting in their chairs, chuckling and drinking tea. As though they had not created a disaster.
“You. Both of you.”
Their laughs stopped. In unison, they turned to her. For the tiniest second, her anger paused at the sight of the silver-haired, meddling single people staring at her in wide-eyed wonderment. Perhaps even fear.
As they should, she assured herself, thus bolstering her resolve.
Lady Brandewyne was the first to recover. “Why, my dear, how lovely to see you. We were just discussing last night’s soiree. Your uncle regrets missing it. He was sure something of note might happen.”
They were not looking at her in fear after all. More like experimental analysis.
Huffing, she pulled a chair out from the table and sat. “There is a girl upstairs crying right now. And it’s your fault.”
“Mine?” Lady Brandewyne put her hand to her chest, looking positively affronted.
“And yours.” Henrietta skewered her uncle with a glare. It wasn’t hard to do, as she was impossibly upset with him already. “Do not act innocent with
