Page 49 of Henrietta

The Marquis snapped his fingers. ‘Just so. I did not think we would ever get rid of them!’

His aggrieved air prevented the remark from being a boast, though Lady Allerton was conscious of having to hold herself aloft from stirrings of envy that Lady Davenport should have achieved such a coup. Whatever her cool feelings towards the Nicolets’ aunt, however, Lady Allerton could not begrudge the charming pair their imminent success – especially given the telling glances which were being exchanged between the Marquis and Hetty, directly under her nose, as Hetty tried to convey to Nicolet, with her eyes alone, the need for caution.

‘I understand that you have a prior acquaintanceship with our dear Hetty,’ her ladyship noted. ‘One, I confess, I only learnt of recently.’

‘As did I,’ Mademoiselle de Nicolet agreed, sending her brother a rather quizzical glance.

‘Nonsense – you just have a terrible memory, Isabelle,’ the Marquis insisted – leaning back to avoid an answering jab from his sister’s fan.

Lady Allerton laughed. ‘You and Hetty first met in Vienna, is that right?’

‘Yes,’ Nicolet said, before Hetty could answer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur’s head tilt to the side.

‘Rome,’ she corrected swiftly. ‘If you remember, we first met – briefly – in Rome.’

‘Of course.’ Nicolet snapped his fingers in apparent recollection. ‘I had forgotten, so much of our friendship having occurred in Vienna.’ He smiled at Hetty. ‘Of course that was many, many years ago now.’

Arthur frowned. ‘Was it?’ If he was not mistaken, Hetty had been in Vienna only four years before.

‘Oh, my deplorable English …’ Deepening the subtle inflection of his accent to something approaching the caricature, he pressed a hand to his forehead. ‘Many, a few … I mix them, you must forgive me …’

Mademoiselle de Nicolet frowned at him quizzically. ‘Your English is perfect, why do you – oh, I perceive you are trying to make yourself more interesting. Do carry on.’

‘I cannot very well do so now!’ Nicolet told her indignantly.

The Allertons all laughed. All save Arthur. The Marquis’s memory of Hetty was plainly not as firm as her memory of him, if he had to be reminded in such a way. This, Arthur felt, did not bode at all well.

This was an unease no other Allerton shared, however. For nothing could be more gratifying than the attentions the Marquis paid Hetty for the remainder of the visit, as he conveyed to Lady Allerton his great pleasure at meeting his friend again, his surprise that she should have grown up so very much, and – expanding on this eloquence – began to reminisce on all the joyous times they had spent amid the splendour of Vienna, eating creams, dashing all about, even putting on plays for the amusement of their families.

‘Hetty put on plays?’ Trixie repeated, brows rising. Hetty, whose palms had grown clammier and clammier with every moment that passed, sent Nicolet a speaking glance.

‘A fact which is … surprising,’ Nicolet summarised, ‘to anyone who knows her. Goodness, is that the time?’

Lady Allerton made protestations, and Hetty was about to breathe a sigh of relief until—

‘I was wondering if Miss Clithero would care to accompany me to the botanical gardens?’ Nicolet asked. Mademoiselle de Nicolet frowned at him. ‘Accompany us,’ he corrected hastily. ‘We are told the spring flowers are quite the sight.’

‘I should like to see the flowers too,’ Timothy announced.

‘But of course,’ the Marquis agreed easily. ‘May I persuade anyone else to join us?’

Given the imminent arrival of Thimbleby and Holland, Arthur declined, as did Lady Allerton – who felt that her chaperonage would be very much in the way of Hetty’s promising new romance – and, to Hetty’s surprise, so did Trixie, on account of an appointment.

‘What kind of appointment?’ Hetty quizzed her.

‘I am walking with Miss Corcott in the park.’

‘Again?’ Hetty reflected that this must be the third time that week.

Trixie gave her a bland smile. ‘I do so love to walk.’

‘Well, Miss Clithero?’ Nicolet interrupted Hetty’s scrutiny.

Hetty hesitated. It was plain that she and Nicolet needed to speak privately, before he caused any mischief, but she did not wish to miss the meeting with Holland and Thimbleby. She looked questioningly towards Arthur, with an expression that so plainly spoke to wishing to go that he waved her off at once, though when he laid eyes upon the sporting vehicle and very spirited pair of greys the Marquis was driving, he felt some regret at not having objected more.

‘Is that safe?’ Arthur wondered, peering out of the window as the Marquis handed Hetty up into it – Mademoiselle de Nicolet having ceded her place to Hetty to accompany Timothy in the more sedate barouche.

‘You have one just like it,’ Lady Allerton reminded him.