Henry watched as Caro’s sister entered the foyer. “Lady Ardingly,” she said, “how lovely to see you, as always.”
“Lady Wynters, good afternoon,” his mother returned, as the two countesses curtsied to each other gracefully.
“And Lord Ardingly.” Lady Wynters made another very polite curtsey, then drew herself up to her full height. The countess was statuesque, and only perhaps an inch shorter than his father. The earl’s shoulders slumped, and he physically shrank before her unwavering gaze.
“I had the most fascinating conversation with my sister this morning,” Lady Wynters began.
His father blanched. “I—I can explain—”
“No, my lord, I do not believe that you can,” the countess said, turning to Henry. “But how kind of you, Lord Thetford, to make the recommendation that we search for the
