Henrietta’s breath hitched involuntarily. Of the original coterie of Bishop’s Castle hellions, only she, Harry, and Julian remained. One by one, Thomas Wiggington, Philip Usher, Daniel Codrington, and Nigel Barrett had all fallen to Napoleon. Only Julian had made it through the war relatively unscathed, at least on the outside.
She shut her eyes at the sudden ache in her chest, feeling anew the loss of her childhood friends. When she opened them again, Julian stood beside her. He took her hand in his.
“I’m sorry, Hen. That was bloody insensitive of me. What I meant to say is that things are different now. Why should I go and muck it all up when my factor has estate matters well in hand? Besides that, I would surely hang myself from boredom within a fortnight.”
“Is it so very bad for you, Julian? I thought you were happy here, that you enjoyed country pursuits—riding, fishing, and hunting with the hounds. I still do.” She couldn’t comprehend why he seemed to shun his ancestral home.
“I did once,” he confessed. “It was an ideal life when I was a boy, but things have changed. I’m changed, Hen. Indeed, the only things I’m any good at are cards and fu—” his cheekbones suddenly colored, “er . . . fighting. War does that to a man, and once it happens, there’s no going back.”
She understood all too well. Her life had once changed due to circumstances beyond her control, and she could never get it back either. “So what shall you do?”
“What I’ve done the past six years—survive one day at a time.”
“Surely there is more to life than mere survival, Julian,” she said softly. “Do you truly believe you will never be happy?”
He slumped back in the chair with a sigh. “What is happiness? I’m not even certain I remember anymore. What about you?” Julian asked. “What would make you happy?”
“Freedom. Independence. A life in which I can do as I please,” she answered. “I think that would make me very happy indeed.”
His brow wrinkled. “What do you mean by independence, Henrietta?”
“Today marks my twenty-first birthday, Julian. Now that I have attained my majority, I fully intend to make some changes in my life. I’m beginning with a trip to London.”
His eyes widened. “Today is your birthday, Hen? I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”
“It’s no matter to me. I’m used to it by now!” She laughed. “No one else remembers. They are all too preoccupied with Harry and Penelope’s wedding.”
Julian shook his head. “That won’t do at all, Hen. If everyone is preoccupied, we’ll simply celebrate it together.”
“But didn’t you just tell Harry you were leaving for town?”
“It can wait. Now,” he took her hand. Henrietta gave a slight shiver as he caressed her knuckles with his thumb, “tell me how you wish to spend your day.”
“Come ride with me, Julian,” Henrietta said, her gaze seeking his. “Let’s both be happy.”
CHAPTER TWO
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“RACE YOU TO THE LAKE?” Julian called out once Henrietta had settled her skirts.
“Absolutely!” she replied, her gray eyes sparkling. “No one ever races with me anymore.”
Spurring the horses, they set out across the dales toward Julian’s estate at a breakneck pace that not even Harry would have dared to match. Julian had planned to spare the whip and spur, but as usual, Henrietta more than held her own.
Julian halted his horse beside the Price Hall fishing lake. Henrietta pulled up at his side. Her round face was flushed, and her tightly buttoned-up bosom rose and fell in rapid succession. It had been years since they’d raced, and those years had wrought many changes in the hoydenish Henrietta Houghton. He realized then that he’d never seen the womanly version of Henrietta in a riding habit. The fit of it left few of her lush feminine curves to the imagination, curves he became even more painfully aware of as he helped her to dismount from the saddle.
“Do you remember our last summer here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Julian replied, vividly recalling that day. It was the first time he’d noticed her changing shape.
“My entire existence altered after that, and not for the better,” she added sadly.
“How do you mean?” he asked.
She handed him her bridle reins and bent to pick a Michaelmas daisy. “I lost my best friends,” she said. “It was never the same between us after . . .” She cast her gaze downward as a hint of rose permeated her face.
“How could it be once we realized?” he said.
“Realized what, Julian?”
“That you were becoming a woman.”
“But I was then, and still am, Henrietta,” she insisted.
“No, Hen,” he argued. “You were one of the chaps, and then suddenly you weren’t.” He’d been particularly affected by the revelation. The image of her naked and nubile body beneath the wet shift had filled his adolescent dreams.
“It wasn’t fair,” she said.
“You have to understand the mind of an adolescent male, Hen. Thomas and I were on the verge of manhood, a time when natural urges often prevail over good sense.”
“Natural urges? What do you mean?”
“Surely you understand what happens when a man sees a woman’s breasts?”