AN: And here, Sir Henry gets to explain himself... for threesummerdays, who wanted a chance for Harry to prove himself "a sweetheart." I hope this meets with your approval!

Miss Evershed did not sleep well that night, or the next, or the next. Pain at the thought that she had very nearly fallen utterly in love with Sir Henry was mixed with dread at what would come of their next meeting. She must attempt to speak to him in private, and inform him of the necessity of breaking their acquaintance. It was not a pleasant prospect. But it appeared that the same thought had struck Sir Henry, because for almost a whole week, their paths did not cross. Ruth wondered if he had retreated to the country, but a brief sight of him driving in Hyde Park one day, as she and Elizabeth were taking their daily walk, dispelled this thought.

But when she arrived downstairs on the Friday morning following Lady Radford's ball, after a late breakfast brought to her in bed by her personal maid, Ruth was surprised to be informed by the butler that Sir Henry Pearce had called to inquire after ma'am's health and was currently waiting in the library for her, in the company of the master. Her hand went to her forehead immediately, with a low exclamation of, "Oh, my!" Clearly the interview would have to take place sooner, and yet later, than she would have wished. She entered the library after a brief knock on the door. Both men looked up in relief - obviously little conversation had been taking place. Sir Henry rose to his feet and bowed formally to Ruth, who curtsied in return. "Good morning, Miss Evershed. I trust you are now fully recovered from your head ache?" he asked in a low voice.

She smiled a half-smile, and replied calmly enough, although her heart was hammering at the sight of him in her brother's house. "I thank you, Sir Henry, I am."

He allowed his face to relax into his customary expression of amiability, obviously relieved. "In that case, ma'am, I should be delighted if you would agree to go driving with me. The weather is pleasant and my curricle and tiger await outside, should the prospect prove agreeable." Ruth's breath caught in her throat. This was entirely unexpected. It was acceptable for a lady to go driving with a gentleman as long as a groom or other chaperone was in attendance, and a quick glance in Edward's direction proved that he was not against the plan. Perhaps a drive with Sir Henry would be best - at least she could speak to him privately there, and discuss the cooling-off of their intimacy. At last, she nodded. "I should be glad to go driving with you, sir."

Having changed into a dress more suitable for such a venture, she returned downstairs to find Sir Henry awaiting her in the hall. He handed her up into the curricle easily and took the driving seat himself. He drove well, and even such an inexperienced person as Ruth could tell that his horses were first rate. They drove in silence, until, upon entering Hyde Park, Sir Henry, with an idle twitch of the reins, announced calmly, "Now, if you please, Miss Evershed, you will help me to an understanding of your distress at our last meeting." Her hands clenched in her lap around her reticule and she dared not meet his eyes. "I had a head ache, sir," she insisted firmly.

He tutted, unimpressed, and replied dryly, "I'm sure you will forgive me for doubting your word, ma'am, but I do not believe you had a head ache. Or, rather, I do not believe that a mere head ache could have put you so out of countenance, so quickly." Ruth scowled. Sir Henry cast an amused glance in her direction and added, "You need only answer, 'Yes, sir' or 'No, sir' to my questions, if longer sentences are out of your power at present." Ruth could sense the smile in his tone and couldn't help smiling herself. She nodded. If only he were not so amiable!

"Very well. Did Lady Shaw say something to distress you?"

"Yes, sir," was the barely audible answer.

"Something regarding yourself?"

"No, sir."

"Something regarding Miss Bailey?"

"No, sir."

There was a pause. Then: "Something, perhaps, regarding myself?"

Ruth looked out at the swiftly passing parkland and, blushing, murmured, "Yes, sir."

Sir Henry's mouth twisted sardonically at his own powers of perception. "Ah, I see. Lady Shaw, I gather, has hinted at our former acquaintance. And you, I imagine, have come driving with me merely to inform me that our intimacy must cease and desist forthwith."

Ruth twisted around in her seat and looked searchingly at him. At last, he laughed softly, and informed her, "Your face is very easy to read when you are embarrassed, ma'am. Might I be allowed to explain?"

Ruth looked up into his eyes, and replied carefully, "No explanation is necessary, sir." A lady, after all, feigned ignorance of all the less savoury aspects of the lives of the male members of her acquaintance. "Your… connection with Lady Shaw is your own affair, Sir Henry, and I have no right to intrude." Harry was baffled at her replies, to say the least. Miss Evershed, he had hoped, was beginning to like him as much as he liked her, so her quiet, short responses were highly disconcerting. He frowned down at her, and insisted, "You must let me explain, Miss Evershed."

She sighed shudderingly, and he noted that she was in great danger of twisting off several of the braided tassels from her reticule. "Please, sir," she whispered, "I think it would be better if you returned me to my brother-in-law's house now."

Sir Henry shook his head, and gave no sign that he was preparing to turn the curricle about. "Miss Evershed, you are distressed, and I would explain myself. When I have had done, and only then, will I return you to your brother in law."

Ruth gritted her teeth in a most unladylike manner, and announced grimly, "Very well." She had no desire to hear Sir Henry's explanation but she did not seem to have any other choice, unless she was willing to make a ruinous spectacle of herself in front of not only the baronet's groom, but also the other people in the park. He inclined his head gratefully to her, and began. "I should be grateful, Miss Evershed, if you would allow me to speak uninterrupted. Furthermore, you must understand, ma'am, that these recollections are highly unpleasant to me, and that I would not have engaged to explain myself to you had I not been fully assured of your absolute discretion."

Ruth nodded. "I think you may rely on me for that, sir."

"Very well. I first became acquainted with Juliet Shaw upon entering the regiment commanded by her husband in America, six months after my marriage. She was several years my senior, clever, witty, vivacious. I was attracted to her. My wife's absence did not aid the situation, as you can imagine. She… became my mistress. It was not love, Miss Evershed, on either side; I was desperately missing my wife, and she felt herself trapped in a marriage made only for wealth and power. Our… association was brief, thank God, and did no lasting damage. The war ended soon afterwards and I resigned my captaincy and returned home. Jane had given birth to a daughter in my absence, and my father and uncle had both died, so we settled at Middlethorpe, my family home. I hoped to allow my folly and infidelity to pass, unlamented, into the realms of memory - and for a time, it did. I fathered a second child, a son, and settled down to a post at the War Office. Unfortunately, so did Colonel, now Lord, Shaw. Juliet and I were forced into almost weekly intimacy, and Jane was exposed to her acquaintance too. Jane began to distance herself from me, and, God forgive me, Juliet and I returned to our old ways. I believe there were infidelities on my wife's side too, though that is but a coward's excuse. Jane died soon afterwards, in childbed, and Lord Shaw was given a posting as Ambassador to Austria. Occasionally, now, I see Lady Shaw in society, but never without infinite hatred and regret for my past actions. She and I… are no longer engaged in any sort of relationship."

Sir Henry fell silent. Miss Evershed rested her hand on her temple, feeling the blood thudding unpleasantly there. Her heart felt irritatingly light. He had transgressed, yes, but in his past, and appeared now to bitterly regret the whole. Lady Shaw no longer had any claim on him. "I see," she murmured at last. "But, Lady Shaw spoke as if - as if your intimacy continued. I believed…" She trailed off, unwilling to complete her sentence. Kindly, Sir Henry explained, "Lady Shaw has always been possessed of a rather jealous nature. I believe the sight of you dancing with me may have piqued her somewhat, but I blame myself for the whole."

"Yourself? Sir Henry - "

He raised a gloved hand and she fell silent. "My shock at seeing Lady Shaw there overpowered me for a moment. Had I not abandoned you to her conversation, much anxiety could have been avoided. Can you forgive me?"

She gave him a sunny smile, and nodded. "I do not see that anyone should be forced to atone repeatedly for something that occurred when they were very young, and which they now regret, Sir Henry. You have no need to ask for my forgiveness."

The half-smile which he gave her was tired, but then, visibly forcing his countenance into a brighter aspect, he replied, "Very well. We shall not speak of it again, ma'am."

But Ruth still could not help being a little troubled. In the distress of believing herself duped by him, she had entirely forgotten Beth's words. Sir Henry's smile faded as he caught sight of her face once more. "You are still troubled," he stated quietly. She attempted to force another smile, and shook her head. "It is silly - you will think me foolish, sir. 'Twas merely something my niece brought to my attention."

Sir Henry inclined his head encouragingly, wanting her to go on. Ruth took a deep breath. "She informed me that certain members of the ton believed that… that you were courting me. I thought you ought to be told, so that you could decide what is best to be done."

He frowned, somewhat confused. "Done? I do not quite understand. As I see it, the ton may think as they like."

Ruth bit her lip, wishing that she could have his devil-may-care attitude. "But… does it not concern you that the ton are - are - laughing at you, sir?"

He deftly flicked the reins and began to turn his curricle about. "I do not understand why they should be laughing at all, Miss Evershed. I have a perfect right to conduct my affairs as I wish, without reference to anyone else." There was silence for a moment, and then Sir Henry turned to look down upon her, forming his next words very carefully. He was not yet so sure of his companion's heart to risk an outward declaration. His mouth opened and closed several times, and then he added gently, "Miss Evershed, I… consider you to be one of my very good friends, and I hold you in high esteem. The ton may think what it chooses about our acquaintance or my motives, but that is their concern, and certainly not something that should cause you any anxiety."

Ruth remained silent. Sir Henry was, and, moreover, could only ever be, her friend - a man she could talk to about anything, and not run the risk of being thought unladylike or possessed of bluestocking tendencies. Or, at least, he did not disapprove of her bluestocking tendencies. He reminded her very much of her old champion, Lord Radford - intelligent, kind and utterly loyal. But, if this was so, then why could she not feel towards him as she had done towards Lord Radford? Why did his words persist in striking a chord of disappointment into her heart?

Ruth, however, was not permitted to puzzle over these thoughts for long. The curricle soon drew up outside the Baileys' house, and Sir Henry assisted Ruth down. "Good day, Miss Evershed," he smiled, bowing over her hand, and was gone.

Fortunately, with Elizabeth's wedding mere days away, Miss Evershed had no time to dwell upon her own strange feelings. The whole household was in an uproar of frenzied activity, and Ruth, as the only person in the house who seemed to be able to keep a clear head, was called upon to assist in all manner of tasks - discussing the wedding breakfast with the Baileys' cook, attending Elizabeth at fittings for new clothes, answering letters and notes and preventing what felt like the whole world from collapsing in on them all. In addition, she was also in the throes of arranging her own removal from the Bailey household after the wedding. She barely slept, staying awake until the early hours, making final arrangements. Edward had, with a good grace, given up his study to her, as being the most convenient room in the house in which such work could go on, and Ruth remained there until the early hours of each morning, before reluctantly retreating to her bedchamber to grasp in vain at sleep for a few hours. She refused to admit that her wakefulness was due to a certain baronet, but she couldn't fail to notice the increasing frequency with which she caught herself thinking about him. At any rate, occupation was best, for both head and heart, as Lord Radford had always said.

It was during one of these evenings, when Edward and Elizabeth had long gone to bed, along with the servants, including Miss Evershed's faithful Scottish abigail Samantha, as Miss Evershed was reviewing the list of jobs she still had to do, and thinking that perhaps she could survive without sleep that night, that there came a sharp knocking at the door. Ruth placed down the papers she had been intently studying and rose from her seat, glad that the study was on the ground floor of the house. Hesitantly, she moved to the window and twitched back the curtain in order to look outside at the street. Despite the deep black of the night, there was a full moon, and by this light Miss Evershed could make out the silhouette of a man. Her heart leapt at the thought that it could be Sir Henry - but she quickly stifled that thought. He was not so unconventional as to call at such a time as - she looked at the clock on the mantelpiece - one o'clock in the morning. Was it truly so late?

She shook her head. Besides, the figure she saw outside was too tall to be Sir Henry, and his shoulders were not broad enough. For a moment, she pondered going upstairs and rousing one of the servants, or Edward, but decided against it when the door was knocked again, more insistently.

Quickly, she went out into the hall, determined to silence the knocker before he woke the whole house. Scowling somewhat, she unlocked the door and opened it slightly, ready to slam it shut if her late night caller proved to be unknown to her. A dark haired man, scarcely twenty, looked back at her out of completely familiar grey eyes, so like her own. Ruth breathed a sigh of relief. "James!" she gasped and stood back to let in her youngest nephew. He grinned roguishly and stepped into the hallway, removing his coat as he did so. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and Ruth quickly realised that he was not exactly sober.

"Whatever are you doing in London? Why ever have you called so late?" she asked in a lowered voice, guiding him through in to the study and seating him by the fire. He rose again very quickly, however, and murmured somewhat sheepishly, "For the wedding, of course! I was on my way here earlier this afternoon, aunt, and then I came across some old acquaintances, quite by chance, y'know, and… and, then I'm not quite sure how I came to be so late." Ruth raised her eyebrows, wondering why she was surprised at James's utterance of such a vague excuse. Passing a hand over her suddenly weary eyes, she persisted, "But we were sure that you wouldn't be able to attend the wedding, James - the university authorities surely haven't given you leave?"

Her nephew coughed slightly and her countenance darkened. "James…" she uttered in menacing tones.

He sighed and finally admitted, "I've been rusticated, aunt. Just for a small prank - hardly even worth mentioning, yet alone dragging a chap over the coals for - everyone agreed…"

His voice faded away in the face of his aunt's clear horror. "Not… not permanently?" she exclaimed in low tones. The thought of her nephew being actually expelled from Cambridge was thoroughly shocking. James, however, shook his head enthusiastically. "Oh, no! Just for the rest of the term. Please don't ring a peal over me, Aunt Ruth!" His words somewhat grated on Ruth. She had spent her life fighting for a fair education, and this boy, who had been handed all the things she had so dearly wished for and so often been denied, was wasting the many opportunities he had been offered.

His aunt crossed her arms, half-relieved. "It isn't my scolding you have to worry about. Think about what your father will have to say when you confess the whole to him, James!"

He groaned and pressed a hand to his temples. "Lord, must I tell him? You might break it to him more gently, aunt, and then - "

Miss Evershed's eyes flashed. "Absolutely not! You will tell him yourself and bear his completely justifiable rage alone, too!" James's shoulders sagged considerably. "Very well, aunt." He sank back down into one of the fireside chairs. Wearily, Miss Evershed decided that a few hours' sleep would probably best equip her for the undoubted trials of tomorrow. She walked quietly to the door, still somewhat fuming, and then paused, hand on its handle, and looked back. James had his eyes closed and his head resting back in the chair, his legs stretched out to absorb the last vestiges of warmth from the fire.

"Don't worry about waking any of the servants, Aunt Ruth," he murmured sleepily. "I shall do here until the morning, and then Sanders" - he named his valet - "will be here to rearrange me." He opened his eyes and looked over at her beseechingly. "I'm sorry for setting up your bristles, aunt. I do seem always to make such a mull of things." His aunt's features softened somewhat and she returned to his side, bending to kiss his cheek, just as she had done when he was a child.

"You do," she reassured him dryly. "But I am very glad to see you, in any case, James."