Chapter 6

Henry renewed her acquaintance with Oliver Cranshawe two mornings later in Hyde Park. She was out unfashionably early, riding Jet, who had been brought to London since her marriage. A groom was riding within hailing distance of her. She became aware of Cranshawe cantering up alongside while she was 'in the midst of resisting the temptation to take off her feathered riding hat so that she could feel the breeze in her hair.

"Good morning, cousin," Cranshawe called, flashing her a smile and sweeping off his hat.

."Oh, good morning, Oliver," Henry returned gaily. "Is it not a beautiful morning?"

"All the more so since I saw you," he said, sweeping admiring eyes over her trim figure clad in moss-green riding attire and over her powerful, gleaming black horse. "That is a splendid mount, if I may say so, your Grace."

"Yes, is he not?" she agreed. "But I thought it was decided that you are to call me Henry."

His face grew serious and he looked earnestly across at her. "I understood that your husband did not approve of such familiarity, ma'am," he said.

Henry hesitated. "He was in a disagreeable mood the other night, was he not?" she said. "Is there some quarrel between you and Marius, Oliver?"

"Perhaps you should ask your husband about that," he replied earnestly. "On my part, there is no cause for bad feeling at all. I try my best to be friendly to my cousin. But I realize that it must be difficult for him to know that I am his heir. I assure you that it matters not at all to me, but I do believe that Marius feels threatened by my existence.

Henry looked at him sharply. "That is surely nonsense," she said.

He shrugged. "You must judge for yourself, Henry. I certainly do not wish you to see your husband in a bad light. I should prefer that you judged me harshly." He smiled rather sadly into her eyes.

"I shall do no such thing," she replied firmly. "I always judge matters for myself, sir. But I do believe family feuds to be silly nonsense."

He bowed from the saddle. "Can I tempt you to test your horse against mine, Henry?" he asked, seeming to consider it wise to change the subject.

"Oh, do you mean a race?" she asked, eyes sparkling again.

"Shall we say to the southern gate and back on the count of three?" he suggested.

Henry had never been known to resist such a challenge. Soon the few spectators who were privileged (or unfortunate) enough to be in the park at that morning hour were treated to the spectacle of two horses galloping full tilt down the grassy avenue of the park, their riders, one male and one female, bent low over their necks. They were almost abreast of each other at the turn, but Henry won the race with a few lengths to spare.

"Ha!" she cried, laughing breathlessly as Cranshawe drew his mount to a halt beside hers. "You must now admit that Jet is the superior horse, Oliver."

"Not so, not so!" he protested, holding up one hand and displaying a wide array of very white teeth as he smiled back at her. "You see, I stopped to pick up your hat, which blew off back at the gate. Had I not played the gentleman, ma'am, I declare the outcome might have been very different."

"Pooh!" she replied. "I should not have stopped to rescue your hat, sir. You must pay the penalty for your foolishness."

"Henry," he said, suddenly serious again and bringing his horse closer to hers, "you are such marvelous company. Indeed, it was unkind of you to marry my cousin before you had given me the chance to try my suit."

Henry rapped him sharply on the knuckles with the handle of her whip and looked around until she saw her groom holding his horse at a discreet distance. "Now you are being foolish," she said. "I don't like it when people become silly and untruthful."

He smiled ruefully. "You will not believe in your own attractions, will you, cousin?" he said, still serious. "But may I be your friend, Henry? I think you may need one. I fear your husband can sometimes be a dry old stick."

"You talk a pile of nonsense," Henry replied matter-of-factly, "but of course we are friends. I must return home, Oliver. Jet will be overtired. Good morning, sir."

Late that same afternoon, when Henry was in the drawing room looking over some dress patterns with Miss Manford, Eversleigh strolled in. Henry brightened. The activity had not been of her choosing and was not holding her interest to any great degree. He seated himself and conversed pleasantly with both women for several minutes. Then he turned to his wife.

"Will you come to the library, Henry?" he asked.

"Certainly," she replied, bouncing readily to her feet.

"Will you excuse us, ma'am?" Eversleigh asked, bowing in the direction of Miss Manford.

The governess blushed and stammered and fluttered her hands in an ecstasy of embarrassment at being so courteously noticed by her employer.

"Sit down, Henry," Eversleigh said when they were in the library, the door closed behind them. Henry sat and gazed inquiringly up at him.

Eversleigh moved to the fireplace and leaned one elbow on the mantel. He regarded his wife through half-closed eyelids. "Henry," he asked, "are you happier with your life in London than you were when I first met you?"

She looked at him in surprise. "I don't remember ever being unhappy," she replied, eyebrows knitting in puzzlement. "I have always thought the social life rather silly, but it can be amusing. Yes, Marius, I am happy."

"I have been pleased to see you become fashionable and to observe that you have acquired a circle of friends," he continued.

"Yes, I never lack for company," she agreed, not at all sure where this conversation was headed.

"Have I given you enough freedom?" he asked. "Have I ever made any unreasonable demands?"

"No, Marius," she said emphatically, "you are a most indulgent husband, I believe. Except when it comes to bonnets," she could not resist adding impishly.

"Quite so," he agreed, his eyes gleaming for a moment. Ile continued to look at her in silence for a while before continuing quietly. "I must now make one demand on you, my love. I do not wish you to associate with Oliver Cranshawe any more than strict courtesy demands."

Henry jerked to her feet. "Did your 'spies report my meeting with him this morning, your Grace?" she asked tartly.

"I do not spy on you, Henry," he replied quietly, "but news always travels faster in the city than if it had wings. I heard that you met and raced with him, yes."

"But why make such a thing of it, Marius?" she asked crossly. "We were in the park. There could hardly be a more public place. How could it be improper?"

"I did not say your meeting him was improper, my love," he pointed out reasonably.

"Then, why?" she asked. "Give me one good reason why I should not be civil to Oliver."

His blue eyes looked steadily into hers. "Say it is because I wish it," he said.

"That is no reason!" she retorted hotly. "I like Oliver. He is friendly and has easy manners. He is fun to be with. I have no intention of pokering up whenever I see him just because you wish it."

"Do you not, Henry?" he asked mildly. "Why is it that I am not in the least surprised?"

Henry opened her mouth and shut it again. Marius really had a disconcerting knack of saying the unexpected and taking the thrust right out of her attack.

"I do request that you humor me on this one matter, my love," he continued.

"Oh, and am I now dismissed, your Grace?" she asked, tossing her head haughtily.

"I almost fear for my life in having to bring up one more matter," he said meekly. "Henry, for my peace of mind, will you refrain from racing in the park? I know you have a splendid seat, my love"-he looked deliberately down to view it-"but I also know that most of your galloping has been done, er, astride your horse. If you can wait until we are in the country, I shall be quite delighted to see you ride in breeches." He allowed his gaze to wander down to the slim legs that were outlined beneath the fall of her high-waisted gown. "But I cannot help feeling that the sidesaddle was designed for more restrained exercise."