She pulled Louise closer, savoring the contact, the proof of love.
And she did love the girl. It was a feeling that once known, could not become unknown.
“I love you,” she said. Because a child should always know they were loved. In words and in deed.
“I love you, too,” Louise muttered into the side of her dress.
“You look positively frightful,” Lady Brandewyne announced, breaking the moment with a critical glare. “What have you been doing, sobbing since you left?” She swept a well-manicured hand upward. “Your eyelids are atrociously swollen. Your nose...why, no powder could disguise that color.”
Henrietta tried to roll her eyes, but they were sandpaper-raw. “Why are you here?”
The dowager countess sniffed, managing to shut the door while keeping her nose in the air. “To aid you.”
“If you have come to try to talk me out of leaving, then I fear you’ve wasted your time.” To her relief, not even a wobble carried in her voice. “I have given my word.”
“Ah, but what if another equally educated candidate could take your place? What then?”
Henrietta’s mind blanked. “Pardon me?”
Lady Brandewyne smiled in a mischievous way. “If I found someone as educated as yourself, and sent him instead, would you stay?”
“I do not wish to be a governess.” She lifted her chin. “And I’ve no desire to be on the marriage mart. I am too old, anyhow, for such nonsense.”
“Yes, your age is showing now.”
Henrietta scowled at the dowager. She may not care overly much for fashion, but that did not mean she wanted her looks publicly maligned.
“Let us fix you up.” Lady Brandewyne bustled into the room, peering in corners and fiddling with her medicines on the small vanity. “Don’t you have a brush? Where is that maid you claimed you hired?”
Louise played with the dog on the bed, giggling. Henrietta crossed the room. “She will join me on the ship. She is another reason I must go. I have promised her steady employment and knowledge. She has intimated an interest in learning.”
“Bah. Let her work for me.”
“Why are you so insistent? Did you really come all this way to stop me?”
“I came to tell you I don’t hate you,” Louise said.
“Thank you,” she said drily. She eyed Lady Brandewyne, who was avoiding direct eye contact quite effectively. “However did you find me? I do hope you do not think showing up will change my mind about anything.”
The dowager countess snapped around, finally bringing her gaze to focus directly on Henrietta’s face. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”
From the bed, Louise gasped.
“That is not my fault,” said Henrietta. “I am simply living my life.”
“Ruining it is more likely. Look at your face. Miserable. Do you think you will feel any better cavorting off to some strange place? Tell me, do you even speak Italian?”
“A bit of French.”
“Which helps you not at all.”
“Insulting me will not aid in changing my mind. And what do you expect me to do? Sit around London drinking tea and gossiping?”
“What a narrow way of looking at my world, Miss Gordon. For shame.” Lady Brandewyne assumed a very square stance.
Henrietta had seen a pugilist stand that way once, right before he pummeled his opponent.
“I will have you know that I am a charter member of London’s orphan society. We provide for more than fifty homeless children, offering them warm beds and plenty of food. Many women of my acquaintance pursue good deeds, using their money and their influence to better society.”
A wave of regret engulfed Henrietta, not only because she had so soundly insulted Lady Brandewyne, but also because she did not want to spend her last day in England arguing with those she loved. Or at least had a modicum of affection for, she admitted, for the dowager’s face was growing quite red as she continued listing her accomplishments and contributions to aiding those of less fortune than herself.
Henrietta held up a hand. The tirade stopped.
“What I said was a reflection of my own bias, and not knowledge.” She drew a quivering lungful of oxygen. “I apologize, my lady, for my assumptions and rudeness. I do not wish to part on negative terms.”
“In that case—” the lady shook her shoulders and assumed her usual haughty stance “—let us take you back to your uncle, where you belong.”
If only she did belong. And it was not just her uncle she was thinking of.
Lady Brandewyne put a hand on her shoulder. “Dominic will be there.”
“Will he?” She had rejected him. What man would accept her after such a blow to the ego, and Dominic’s ego was exceptionally large.
“Miss Gordon, you are living your life afraid because of your past. You accused your uncle of not letting you live due to his fear, but here you are, committing the same mistake. You must move on.” Lady Brandewyne’s unusually gentle tone snuck past her defenses.
She was right. For all the practicality Henrietta prided herself on, she had not seen the truth in front of her face.
Perhaps Dominic thought he might love her, but she knew that she loved him. She had been making her decisions based on emotion and fear just as much as Uncle William. “You say my uncle has a man he can send in my place? One willing to apprentice on the Continent instead of beneath my uncle?”
She nodded. “He has already been asked and merely awaits word.”
“I shall have to offer the lady’s maid a better position.”
“We will figure it out, dearest.”
Smiles barked, his tail thumping hard against the bed, and Louise giggled. Henrietta did not feel she could laugh quite yet. She was giving up a position of surety for a risk.
Light-headed, she sank into the chair at the vanity.
A knock sounded. Urgent. Lady Brandewyne, who was nearest to the door, opened it. A footman stood there, twisting his cap in his hands.
“Bostick, whatever are you doing here?”
“There’s been a terrible accident, my lady. Lord St. Raven’s carriage overturned and he and Mr. Gordon have been
