“I do.”
“Oh, that is good. You might find something to read in my bookroom; do pop in and look before the tea comes. And we have an excellent lending library in Carlisle. I go there once a month.”
“I wish to be useful, Aunt. Can I read to you?”
“Heavens, no. My new spectacles are excellent.”
Honor rubbed the bridge of her nose, and her heart pounded as she recalled the fearful moment when she knew she could not remain under her stepfather’s roof. He had raged at her disgraceful behavior at the ball, accusing her of bringing the family into disrepute just when he worked hard to improve their standing. When she had tried to explain why she’d taken such a risk, he grew even angrier and demanded she hand him her glasses. “You wear these deliberately to spite me,” he’d said, and snapped them in two, tossing them away.
Well, she had no use for the glasses now. The chance of a suitor finding her here was most unlikely.
The bookroom smelled of dusty tomes, and like the drawing room, a strong odor of cats lingered. Shelves full of books lined the walls. Honor wandered along the rows, but found little of interest. When she returned to her chair, her aunt had opened her book, which looked suspiciously like a novel from Minerva Press. Her stepfather had banned such novels from the house.
Honor sat stroking a black cat with a white tip on its tail. “I’ll see to my unpacking after tea, shall I?”
“Whatever you wish, my dear.” Aunt Christabel waved her hand, her gaze still on the page. “Fanny will assist you.”
Honor climbed the stairs to her new bedroom. It was well-proportioned, the walls papered in a nice print, the furniture comfortable. Somehow, it seemed so very…impersonal. Would this house ever become home to her? The long years stretched ahead, fruitless and without love. She must have been mad to believe a life lived alone would satisfy her. She wanted children…she wanted… It was no use wanting. No use at all. She placed her few books and possessions around her room while biting her lip to stop from bursting into tears. It was her sensibilities. She was overwrought and exhausted after having cried a good deal during the six days the journey took. She’d barely slept at the noisy coaching inns where they had stopped for the night.
After Johnson, the Baxendale coachman of many years, and their housekeeper, Mrs. Mason, who had accompanied her on the trip, had supped, Honor watched them drive away, and despair settled over her like a cloud.
The memory of parting from her family remained raw. Honor had tried to be brave and not let her mother and her sisters see how upset she was. Poor Faith—she had threatened to run away until Mama had promised she could visit. Charity wailed, but Honor hoped her obsession with her painting would soon distract her, and Mercy would be fine as long as their loyal hound, Wolf, was at her side. Young Hope remained in happy ignorance while traveling on the continent with Aunt Abigail. The world was about to open at Hope’s feet, who was a beauty at seventeen. Honor’s stomach rolled in distress. Mama! How she would miss her. She had failed to help Father. What would become of them?
Fanny, had unpacked her raspberry-colored gown, which would always remind Honor of the last evening she’d spent with Edward. His green eyes remained indelible in her mind as he’d stood amongst the spectators at the gambling club and watched her lose her money. Did he think her the biggest fool who ever lived? If she’d stayed in London, her stepfather would have insisted he marry her. Her only other option was this, and she’d chosen it. While she had breath in her body, she would not force marriage upon him. She would never allow Edward to pay for merely caring what happened to her.
Honor groaned. Her heartbeat quickened as the vision of his handsome face swept into her mind. Never had she known a man so steadfast and loyal. His work consumed him; she assumed he would return to his law cases and soon forget her.
Before she’d left, she had sent a servant to retrieve what was left of her money from the gambling club and deliver it to Edward’s office with a note thanking him and asking him to sell the rubies. He wouldn’t, of that she was sure, and he would remain out of pocket until she could repay him. Another distressed moan escaped her lips. Annoyed with herself, she put on her bonnet and pelisse and left the house.
The rambling building perched on a hill with a wide view of the surrounding countryside from the gardens. Miles of stone walls dissected the moorland, with nary a cottage to be seen. Honor strolled along the avenue of trees. The breeze was so much sharper than in London. It made her sniff and dab at her nose with her handkerchief. Winter would come early here, and it would be fierce. Honor breathed in lungfuls of cold air when all her loneliness and regret welded together and threatened to overwhelm her. She must learn to endure, as she had made her bed and now must lie in it.
****
Seated at his office desk, Edward opened the package Honor had sent him. The remnants of the four hundred pounds lay within, along with her note imploring him to sell the jewels. Edward would not. He was determined to see her wearing the lovely red gown, the rubies at her throat, on his arm as his wife. Even as the vision appeared in his mind, his disquiet returned. It did not appear that Baxendale had banished Honor to Northumberland, although he could never be sure of the man. Had she fled to escape marrying him? Or was it because she feared he was now obliged to marry her? He cursed his stupidity; he might have known what lay in wait for them and should have declared himself during the carriage ride back to the ball.
Edward searched his mind for the smallest sign to give him hope—a gesture, a look, a hint that Honor’s regard for him was deeper than that of a client for her solicitor. Had her shy gaze warmed when she looked at him? Did her pretty lips smile for him alone? When he’d held her in his arms on the dance floor, her cheeks had flushed; did that mean she was drawn to him, or merely annoyed at his opposition to her plans? A dismaying thought occurred to him. What if there was another man she wished to marry? He leaned back in his chair, bemused, aware he was about to venture onto very unstable ground, something he never did without being forearmed. He might well face an embarrassing rejection. Turning his back on his work was anathema to him, but the prize, Honor as his wife, was worth risking his standing in the legal profession—and his heart.
As he considered the legal case he’d just relinquished with deep regret, Edward left London behind. The hired carriage juddered along the Great North Road heading to the far north. The smoky air of the metropolis and its congested streets gave way to trees, fields, and a clear blue sky. It had been a relatively dry spring, and the roads were in fair condition. With a thin morning mist drifting away through the trees, they would make good time if the weather remained fine. The sweet scents of damp earth, hay, and flowering hawthorn wafted through the open window. Edward tried to deal with his impatience. It would take days to reach the address in Northumberland Baxendale had so obligingly given him. He tapped his chin with a finger. Baxendale’s volte-face still bemused him. Edward still did not trust the fellow. Too tricky by half. Apparently, his crafty nature hadn’t served him well in business. Chaloner informed him that Baxendale got into financial difficulties borrowing to buy railway shares, which would not bear fruit for some years.
Chapter Fourteen
Honor returned in the gig with her aunt. They had visited the Carlisle Lending Library and carried home a sennight’s supply of books. As the gig clattered along the leafy lane, Aunt Christabel discussed the novel she read. Her eyes brightened as she described how the lecherous and incestuous uncle of Matilda Weimar forced her to flee her home and to seek refuge in the ancient Castle of Wolfenbach. “Deliciously horrifying,” she said with a shudder.
Honor murmured her agreement, although she’d never read the story. Aunt Christabel didn’t require much of a response from her; in fact, she needed very little from Honor. Her aunt had barely asked about her brother’s health, or the family’s. It made Honor bristle. Reading was all very good, but when a person showed no interest in her relatives, or in anything except what she read in
books, well…
Honor bit her lip; she wasn’t ungrateful, but she must seek better employment, or her temper would suffer. At home with her sisters, she had always been busy and enjoyed taking on the tasks her mother had little interest in. The village here was small, but there was sure to be some useful work she could do. Visiting the sick, and perhaps arranging flowers in the church, although the vicar’s wife had been quite short with her when Honor had suggested helping her.
Grub, her aunt’s driver, pulled the gig to a stop in front of the house, where a dusty black carriage waited on the gravel driveway, the coachman at the horses’ heads.
“Who on earth can that be?” her aunt asked with a frown. “I’ve received no notice of a visitor.”
Fanny opened the front door as Grub assisted Aunt Christabel and Honor down. “A gentleman has called, Lady Huddlestone.”
Aunt Christabel removed her hat and handed her things to Fanny. She patted her iron-grey curls. “Let us see who has the temerity to call without an invitation.”
Honor followed her into the drawing room, pulling off her gloves. She looked up and stopped, a sinking feeling in her stomach, as a towering, red-haired man rose to his feet, his intense gaze resting on her.
“I hope ye dinna mind me calling uninvited, Lady Huddlestone,” Lord MacKinley said. “Lord Baxendale wrote me that Lady Honor was visiting and might welcome my company. As my home is just o’er the border, I took the opportunity to drive doon to see her.”
Her aunt’s expression brightened. “How very good of you, my lord, to come all the way from Scotland to visit us. I was just saying to Lady Honor that company is exactly what we need. My dear niece has been languishing in this quiet place.”
Honor curtsied, lowering her chin in an attempt to hide the horror no doubt writ large on her face. Apparently Aunt Christabel wanted to see her wed and gone. She nibbled her lip, upset that she had failed in her endeavor to be good company.
Sweeping up a ginger cat, her aunt picked up her glasses and novel from the table. “I shall retire for a rest and leave you two young people to talk.”
Honor’s shoulders tightened, both vulnerable and angry with her stepfather for doing this. How appalling that she now must discourage Lord MacKinley once again. She took a deep breath. “Please sit down, my lord. You must be in need of a libation after your trip. May I offer you something to drink?”
“A dram of Scotch whisky would be welcome, if you should have it,” he said raising his voice. Ignoring her request that he sit, he stepped closer, smelling strongly of snuff, and took both her hands in his. “But there is something I’d like far more.”
She stared up at him, refusing to encourage him by asking what that was, sure that whatever her reaction, he would continue undaunted.
He raised his ginger eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it is, sweet lassie?”
Honor withdrew her hands and sat in the nearest chair. She seized the bell and rang it. “Of course, my lord. First, let me see if we have whisky. I would certainly like tea. I’m in need of it after our trip to Carlisle.”
He sighed and sat in the chair opposite. “Verra well. And after our drink, shall we take a walk in the sunshine?”
“I believe it’s going to rain.”
“The sky often looks threatening in these parts.” He gazed at her. “I see you don’t wear your glasses.”
“I’m sorry to say that I broke them.”
“A pity you have to wear them when you have such fine-looking eyes.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
Whisky was produced, and Lord MacKinley drank a glassful in one gulp. Honor drew out her tea as long as she could, but the moment came when she couldn’t manage another sip. She put down her cup.
He stood and offered her his arm. “We’ll take that walk, shall we?”
The view from the window held a promising number of dark clouds. Perhaps it would be sensible to refuse him in the garden, without her aunt appearing to encourage his suit. Rain would force them to return indoors soon enough. “Yes, thank you.”
She resolved not to go far from the house. The Scot tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and enthused about his ancestors and his home, a castle, as they walked over the lawns toward the rose garden. “You would enjoy life there, my lady.”
“My lord, I don’t wish…” As she spoke, a carriage driven by four horses drove into sight. She and MacKinley paused as the vehicle stopped in front of the house. Edward stepped out.
Honor’s mouth fell open. She hurried forward, her pulse racing, as Edward removed his hat, his frosty gaze like green ice. “Lady Honor.”
“Lord Edward Winborne,” she said as a delicious lightness settled in her chest. “I’d like you to meet Lord MacKinley, who has just come to visit us from Scotland.”
“How do you do, Winborne.” Lord MacKinley’s forehead creased in a heavy frown.
“MacKinley.” Edward greeted him with a curt nod. Aware of the tension in the air, Honor led them to the house. Her pulse raced, and she chatted inanely about birds—the hen harrier she’d seen this morning and her hope of sighting a red-flanked bluetail.
Had Edward come all this way to give her the rubies? It was an appallingly silly thought, and she almost giggled.
Aunt Christabel rushed into the drawing room all smiles. “Another gentleman caller. How very pleasant.”
Honor flushed. She had not seen her aunt so animated since she’d arrived. Aunt Christabel engaged MacKinley in conversation, which left Honor to Edward.
“Did you have a pleasant trip, my lord?” she asked, aware she sounded inane, but she was so distracted that nothing else occurred to her.
“Yes, thank you,” he said stiffly. “I was fortunate with the state of the roads, although I daresay the trip home won’t be so agreeable. It looks like bad weather on the horizon.”
Was he planning to depart after tea? Honor wouldn’t let him. If only Lord MacKinley would leave!
MacKinley was making a valiant effort to follow her aunt’s confusing conversation about Gothic architecture, which somehow morphed into to a discussion of Gothic novels, of which he expressed no knowledge. Undaunted, her aunt continued.
Moments later, MacKinley stood and, with a decidedly unfriendly glance at Edward, declared he must go. Honor saw him to the door, thanking him for coming. He stared down at her with a puzzled frown. “I believed, that is, your stepfather gave me the impression…” He shrugged into his greatcoat. “Is Winborne your choice, Lady Honor?”
Honor felt a twinge of sympathy. “Lord Edward has not asked me to marry him,” she felt compelled to say. “But I hope that he will.”
“Then I’m verra sorry, lass,” the Scot said and, putting on his hat, left the house.
Honor returned to the drawing room to hear Edward foolishly confess that his sisters read Castle of Wolfenbach. Honor stifled a desire to laugh, watching him struggle resolutely to follow her aunt’s descriptions as she flitted from character to character.
Eventually, Aunt Christabel ran out of breath and suggested they resume at dinner, adding that Lord Edward was welcome to stay the night.
Edward, his gaze on Honor, promptly accepted.
****
At last, they were alone. Edward was unsure how to proceed. He wanted to sweep Honor off her feet, but he feared such a rash action would be unwelcome. Having found that great hulking Scot, MacKinley, walking with Honor, her hand on his arm, had sent him reeling.
The country air had put roses in Honor’s cheeks. Her lovely eyes were bright and clear, and he realized she did not wear her glasses. Edward vaguely wondered why. He was more interested in learning what Lord MacKinley had been doing here. Had Honor invited him? Was he the man she wished to marry? He was cast low at the prospect, and his heart thudded in his chest.
“Shall we take a walk in the garden, my lord?” Honor asked.
“An excellent notion.” A drop or two of rain had fallen as he’d arrived, but he wasn’t abou
t to refuse the invitation.
They left the house and crossed the lawns. Lowering dark clouds rolled in on the damp breeze. “I have brought your rubies,” he said, feeling it a good place to begin.
Her eyes widened. “Surely you didn’t come all this way to…”
He took her arm. “I did not.”
A splatter of rain struck his nose, and another bounced off Honor’s straw hat. Cursing under his breath, Edward glanced around, determined not to return to the confines of the house. A small timber gazebo stood a distance away. “Perhaps we’d better…” he said, pointing.
“Let’s run.” As the rain grew heavier, Honor picked up her skirts and ran full pelt down a path bordered by crimson and white rhododendrons in full bloom.
They reached the safety of the gazebo a little damp, and turned to each other, out of breath. For a moment, Edward was content to look at her. Raindrops clung to her long dark lashes. He wanted to kiss them away, but instead offered her his handkerchief.
“Thank you.” Honor dabbed her face. “Your hair is wet. It’s dripping down your forehead.” She pushed back a lock of his hair resting on his temple.
She was smiling. His blood racing, Edward stared into her big brown eyes, which were like melting chocolate. “Deuce it, Honor!” he exclaimed. “Are you in love with Lord MacKinley?”
“No!”
“I’m bloody well glad to hear that.”
She gasped at his language.
Edward wasn’t about to apologize. He folded her into his arms, delighting in her slim body against his. He took her chin in his hand and brought his mouth down on hers. Her lips were soft and sweet. When she not only failed to push him away, but drew him closer, her hand at his nape, he deepened the kiss.
The world righted itself.
He drew away, trembling with emotion. “Look, a rainbow.”
“So it is,” she said with a laugh. “I feel it’s a good sign.”
“I love you, Honor,” he declared, huskily. “I have for some time.”
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