Is it a loss? Is that how I feel? I can still hardly tell.
Despite lying all night staring up at the darkened ceiling she was no closer to working through her complicated emotions. She hadn’t been able to stop a few quiet tears from creeping beneath her lashes to run down on to the pillow, far more than Frank deserved, but Honora wasn’t entirely made of ice as she’d wanted Lord Lovell to believe. The man who had once held her heart in his hand was dead, although the fact that he had gone on to crush it so completely couldn’t be denied and the most painful confusion wrestled within her. Once upon a time Frank had been all she had wanted in the entire world, even at the expense of her poor parents, but for three years he had been only an unhappy memory—and now, on top of everything else, she had to face the prospect of one of his cronies loitering around her house.
At the thought of Lord Lovell’s handsome face Honora’s lip twisted and she waved Mary towards a chair.
‘If I had dreamed him, I think it would have been more of a nightmare. Sit down before you fall down and I’ll tell you.’
With uncharacteristic obedience the maid dropped heavily into the plump old armchair and waited with clear curiosity as Honora settled her shawl more warmly around thin shoulders. Now the time had come to put Lord Lovell’s news into words she hardly knew where to begin, her jumbled emotions and the bizarre events of the night making it a difficult task.
‘Surely it’s far too early for paying calls. You didn’t say you were expecting company today.’
‘I wasn’t. I’d never seen him—Lord Lovell—before he arrived a few hours ago. He just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the night. By the time I’d discovered what he wanted it was so late I offered him a bed, although why he’s now lurking about on the landing I can’t tell you.’
Mary leaned forward sharply. ‘He’s been here all night? A strange man, who appeared unannounced out of the dark?’
‘Unfortunately so.’
Honora saw Mary’s shoulders tense with horror. ‘You offered him a bed while you were all alone? But he could have been anyone! Not to mention the scandal if folk were to learn a married woman let a man who isn’t her husband sleep here with nobody else in the house...what can you have been thinking?’
‘I had other things to occupy my mind last night than what the neighbours might think—not that my name is particularly revered by them anyway. And you’re wrong, you know.’
‘About what?’
‘My being a married woman. Our unexpected guest came to deliver a message that caught me rather by surprise. Frank... Frank is dead.’
There. I said it out loud. That means it must be true.
Honora watched as several different expressions fled one after the other across Mary’s face, finally coming to a halt on stunned silence. It must have been the same look she herself had worn last night when Lord Lovell had told her the news, his annoyingly handsome face clouding with what a more naive woman might take for concern. She wouldn’t be taken in by that, however—no friend of Frank’s would be that kind, more likely to fake sympathy than truly feel it.
Birds of a feather...if Frank was a rogue it stands to reason this lord is, too.
‘How? What happened to him?’
Mary still looked as though she couldn’t quite believe it, following with wide eyes as Honora moved the tea tray from her bed and sank down on to it with a sigh.
‘His heart, apparently. Gave out at Lord Lovell’s grand estate somewhere in Northamptonshire. He must have been living nearby, although how or when that came about I’ve no idea.’
‘Well. God rest him, I suppose.’ The laces on Mary’s white cap bobbed as she slowly shook her head. ‘He was a poor husband to you, but it’s still a waste to be taken so young. How do you feel? Will you grieve for him?’
‘I hardly know. I loved him once and still might now if he hadn’t shown me how little he cared for anything but my inheritance. Any passing is a sad event, but I don’t think I’ve many tears left to cry. Does that make me sound cold?’
The cap swayed again, this time more vigorously. ‘How many women could weep for a man who treated them as cruelly as he did you? I’ve been in service since I was eight and only when I came to wait on you did I know what it was to have a mistress who was a friend as well as an employer. I’m afraid I came to dislike Mr Blake for how he made you so unhappy and I can’t pretend some part of me isn’t glad you’re free.’
Honora couldn’t help a grim laugh as the vaguest flicker of warmth unfurled in her otherwise chilly chest. Mary was a good friend, the only one Honora had, and more dear to her than anybody else in all of frostbitten England. ‘Free? To do what?’
‘You could marry again. To a good man this time who would treat you properly.’
Honora had taken up the cracked teapot with the idea of pouring, although she stopped short to flick Mary a glance.
‘Could I indeed? Will you allow me to draw breath before you scheme to have me take some other man’s name?’
‘In time, I mean. A kind man who might...might give you the child I know you long for.’
Honora didn’t look up. Instead she dropped some milk into her cup and stirred it, vaguely dismayed to see her hand quaked a little. For all her bravado the reality of her situation was beginning to set in and an unfightable feeling of sadness crept outwards from her heart until it invaded every sinew.
I had my try at marriage and it slipped through my fingers—alongside the one chance I had of ever being a mother. Neither is something I can now hope for and it would be foolish of me to think otherwise.
‘We both know that won’t happen. Who would take me? A penniless widow with a reputation that’s uncertain to say the least. You’ve heard how people have whispered since Frank left. Half the men for miles around think there must be something wrong with me to drive my husband away and the other half are horrified my father is a freedman. There will never be a crowd of suitors for my hand, no matter how hard you might wish it, and for my part I never wish to be beholden to a man ever again. I’m afraid my hopes of a child—a family of my own—are well and truly over.’
The creep of that icy despair renewed its vigour and Honora suppressed a shiver of sorrow. With his death Frank had taken more from her than he would ever know—but that assumed he had ever paused to think of her and his silence for three long years left no doubt that he had not. She would never be a mother now aside from in her dreams, a deep-rooted unhappiness she had no option but to live with for the rest of her life. The old words of her parents echoed through her mind once more, their desperation and fear turned to anger at her blind stupidity. Frank had ruined her, just as they’d warned her he would, and the hopeless rift between Honora and those that truly loved her had all been for naught.
With another sigh that felt as though it came up from her soul Honora twisted her unruly curls back from her forehead and attempted a wry smile despite how little she felt like trying.
‘I suppose I ought to attend to my guest. Even if he wasn’t invited I imagine it’s still bad manners to leave him languishing in the corridor outside. If you’d fetch out my black bombazine, I think I’ll dress.’
Mary got to her feet with surprising agility and bustled for the armoire, drawing out the gown with as much care as if it was made of the finest silk. She brought it towards Honora, wrinkling her nose slightly at the drab colour that still enhanced the soft fawn of Honora’s skin.
‘It seems a shame you’ll have to wear mourning now. Especially with such a handsome man close by. Your rose muslin is so much more becoming...’
Half off the bed, Honora shot Mary a brief frown. ‘What? Do you mean Lord Lovell?’
‘Is there another handsome man in the house?’
Honora gave an unladylike snort Lord Lovell would have been surprised to know she could make. The idea of dressing with the irritating man out on the
landing in mind was absurd. It didn’t matter one single straw what he thought of her or whatever gown she chose to wear and he needn’t think otherwise for a moment. If the chestnut gleam of his hair had struck her as fine the night before, it meant nothing and neither did her fleeting appreciation for the lithe shape of him beneath an expensive shirt. Perhaps some women might fall prey to his charms, but she was not one of their number—even if the thought of Lord Lovell waiting outside her bedroom door did make her pulse skip a fraction faster, a reaction she shied away from in alarm.
Oh, I think not. Birds of a feather flock together, don’t forget, and that particular bird is no doubt the same as the one I lost.
‘I couldn’t care less what he makes of my appearance. As soon as I’ve dressed I’ll be sending him on his way—handsome face included.’
* * *
Isaac drummed his fingers on the banister as he looked down from the landing into the hall below. By daylight Wycliff Lodge seemed even more dishevelled than it had the night before, clean and tidy enough, but still giving off an unmistakable air of fatigue. The wallpaper was faded and the rugs worn, some of the paintwork flaking off a little from a few of the walls and the windows well washed, but allowing freezing winter air to seep in. The bed he’d slept in had been comfortable enough, but he’d woken with his nose cold at the tip and now he rubbed his hands together as he waited, with rising impatience, for Honora to emerge.
She must know I’m out here. Her maid will have told her. The sooner she appears the sooner I can take my leave, then I’ll never have to think of her again.
Despite all his efforts to the contrary, his unwilling hostess had somehow managed to elbow her way into his mind as he’d lain in the chilly bedchamber opposite hers. It was by no means the first time he’d found himself in a bed that wasn’t his own—when I was a poor excuse for a man and should have known better—but this time was different. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite set aside the image of her wan face as she’d looked back at him from the parlour doorway, her eyes holding a world of unspoken thoughts he had no way of deciphering. He knew he shouldn’t waste a single second trying to puzzle her out, yet he couldn’t deny Frank’s widow was almost as intriguing as she was vexing.
She was sharp tempered, blunt and had completely dismissed him and his title—in a way that secretly rankled, not that Isaac wanted to admit it. Honora Blake seemed completely immune to the good looks and easy charm that found so much success elsewhere, his peerage the icing on the top of a usually eagerly nibbled cake. If he’d been the kind of man who valued female approval, he might have been offended. As it was he tried to ignore the little voice at the back of his mind that wondered what it was about him Honora evidently found so lacking, his new determination to improve himself for Charlotte’s sake murmuring in his ear.
I don’t truly care what she thinks of me. Just idle curiosity I won’t indulge.
Finally the sound of a door creaking open behind him made him turn. The same maid he’d seen scurry past earlier emerged, followed close behind by a tall figure decked all in black—and to his dismay his heart turned over before he could halt its ungainly leap, a disturbing reaction he cursed as soon as it occurred.
There were dark shadows beneath Honora’s wide-set eyes as she dipped him a short curtsy, sparing him only the barest minimum of civility and once again making him wonder why she was quite so hostile. The black gown contrasted with the warm hue of her skin and toned with the ebony curls piled high on her head, a cluster at each ear highlighting the angles of her face like a frame around a work of art. Her gaze was steady and lips set in a firm line, and with a flicker of alarm Isaac swallowed down an aggravating flit of admiration at her composure.
Enough nonsense. I’ve better things to be doing than standing around in this hovel all day.
He tossed Honora a shallow bow, determined not to afford her any more courtesy than she’d shown him. If she wanted to be standoffish and cool, so be it. He had no desire to court her friendship, after all.
‘Good morning, Lord Lovell. I hope you slept well. Was there something you needed so urgently you had to wait outside my bedroom?’
Isaac felt his jaw tighten at her tone, her sunlit drawl of an accent unfamiliar yet the undercurrent of distaste abundantly clear. She wanted him gone and to that he could find no objection. Charlotte’s time could come any day in the next few weeks, her innocence making it impossible to reckon for sure, and he wouldn’t take the chance of not being there when she needed him—especially not on account of Honora Blake. She clearly didn’t like him and his rational side didn’t like her either, only that damnable corner of his mind that insisted on being swayed by her striking presence rebelling against every sensible thought.
I shan’t waste another moment on her. She doesn’t want me here and I have no reason to stay any longer.
‘Needed? No. I just thought I should do you the courtesy of saying goodbye before I left and to thank you for your...warm hospitality.’
She narrowed her—vexingly pretty—eyes at the edge in his voice, her hazel meeting his brown in matching aversion.
‘You’re welcome, I’m sure. I’m so glad my poor, unlived-in-looking home suited your needs.’
‘Perfectly. I won’t trespass on your kindness a moment longer.’
With another bow that was little more than a nod he turned away, striding from the aggravating woman towards the stairs. He felt her eyes on him all the way down the landing and paused just before he dipped out of sight, looking back at her with his foot on the first step. She hadn’t moved, standing among the shadows and seeming almost like one herself in her black gown that with a sudden prickle of guilt Isaac knew he had played a part in making necessary. If he hadn’t chased Frank down like a dog, Honora wouldn’t be cloaked in mourning now—but had there been a choice? He was the closest thing poor Charlotte had to a father and he would protect her until his dying breath, even if it meant concealing the full truth from the woman who stared back at him now and caused such unwanted confusion. She disturbed him, provoking yet fascinating in equal measure, and he wanted nothing more than to escape and forget she—and her damnably fine countenance—even existed.
‘I doubt we shall meet when you come up to Northamptonshire so I’ll leave you with my condolences for your loss. Goodbye, Mrs Blake.’
He descended the stairs, reaching the hall below and was almost at the front door when a voice from above came to make him pause.
‘Wait. What do you mean?’ Honora frowned down at him, both hands resting on the landing banister. ‘Why would I travel to Northamptonshire? There’s nothing for me there other than a grave and I can’t afford to be sentimental. I don’t have that luxury.’
Isaac’s own forehead creased with the lifting of one eyebrow. A woman of ice and fire indeed. Cold yet scathing all in the same breath.
‘For the reading of Frank’s will. I’d have thought that was obvious.’
She blinked, momentarily off guard until she shook her head. ‘Frank always conducted his business affairs with Laurel and Sons in Weston. They’ve been his solicitors for years.’
‘Perhaps once, but no longer.’ Isaac shrugged. Didn’t she know anything about the man she’d married? ‘About six months ago he sought my advice on finding representation closer to his lodgings in Northampton. I recommended my own man to him and he made the exchange soon after. Mr Drew of Filliol, Ellis and Drew, based in the town of Carey not far from my home.’
He saw her shoulders slump, a small movement that nevertheless drew his eye like an arrow to a target.
‘No. I wasn’t aware. How could I be? I’d had no word from Frank in above three years.’ Her fingers tightened on the wooden rail, short nails gripping polished oak. ‘So now I’m to find my way from Somerset to this Carey? A distance of what—a hundred miles? More?’
‘Closer to a hundred and twenty. It’s no small undertaking
, believe me.’
Time consuming and expensive—a double blow Isaac would have avoided if he could. It had taken almost two days to travel to Wycliff Lodge, getting down from the coach halfway with his bones aching from constant jostling and glad to spend the night at an inn. He’d have to make the same tedious journey again now and the thought did nothing to lift his spirits, although Honora looked more troubled by the prospect than he might have expected.
‘One hundred and twenty miles by coach and then the same back again. The expense...and I’ll have to break the journey overnight in some tavern or inn...’
Still craning his neck to look up at her, Isaac saw the pinch of her straight black brows, cinched together in uneasy thought as she spoke more to herself than to him. For the first time that morning she looked vulnerable, some glimmer of uncertainty showing beneath her icy mask, and the same pang of something he’d felt as she left him the night before pricked him like a handful of pins.
She’s a woman alone, even if she is also one of the most unfriendly I’ve met. It’ll be a hard road to travel on her own, especially if she plans to stop at an inn on the way. They can be rough, not to mention expensive.
A horrible suspicion began to unfurl in the depths of Isaac’s stomach—slowly at first, but growing gradually until it coiled there like a snake. If he didn’t know better he might suspect some part of him felt sorry for Honora in the task ahead of her, a daunting venture even he would rather not undertake...
Absurd. He rejected the idea at once. She’s done nothing to gain my sympathies. I’m sure she can fend for herself perfectly well—especially if she keeps that pistol in her reticule.
Still... Some part of him, some glimmer of the better man he had resolved to become since Charlotte’s predicament, baulked at the notion of her setting forth alone. Cold and independent she might be, but she was still a new widow, with evidently precious little money to spare for such an arduous and unexpected journey. Wycliff Lodge was fairly crumbling around her ears as it was. Where would she find the funds to hire a stagecoach, pay tips to the guards and lodgings for herself overnight? Aside from anything else her unusual, striking looks might well garner attention no woman travelling alone was likely to enjoy—a fact Isaac couldn’t deny no matter how hard he might endeavour to ignore her unconscious allure.
A Mistletoe Vow to Lord Lovell Page 3
