In fact…she looked down at her own bow and wondered for a mad moment if she could perhaps change the wager. Surely there was something else she could have—
“Are you prepared to begin, Miss Baker-Sneed?”
The marquis’s soft voice jerked her back into reality, not just by the richness of it, but by its proximity. Somehow, he’d moved until he was only a foot away, close enough that his knees brushed her skirts.
Honoria’s heart raced and she found herself looking up into his face, her mind completely locked upon him. Ye gods, but the man was beyond gorgeous.
“Honoria?”
Cassandra’s soft call made Honoria aware that she was staring at her opponent in a most distracted way.
“Oh. Uhm.” Honoria forced her eyes away from the marquis, and the languorous heat simmered down to a gentle tickle. “Yes?”
Cassandra placed her hand on Honoria’s arm. “I wanted to wish you luck.”
“Me, too,” Juliet said from where she’d just come out onto the terrace.
Honoria glanced around and frowned. “Where are Portia and Olivia?”
Cassandra’s gaze followed hers. “I don’t know. They were just here—”
“They went inside,” Juliet said hastily, glancing at the doors. “They said they couldn’t stand the excitement.”
That was odd, Honoria thought. Portia especially had been ecstatic about the contest, while Olivia—
“Shall we begin?” the marquis asked.
Honoria gathered her thoughts. “Of course.”
He bowed and stepped back. “After you, then. The better of two shots.”
Heart thudding uncomfortably, Honoria faced the target and drew the arrow into place. Squinting, she pulled back, sited the target, then closed her eyes…and let the arrow fly.
Thunk.
George gave an excited yelp. Honoria opened her eyes and blinked. Then blinked again. The arrow had hit the bull’s mark dead center. She turned to face the marquis, only to find him looking at her. At her astonished expression, his brows lowered a bit and he glanced toward the target.
His smile faded. He regarded the arrow for a long moment, then slanted a considering glance at Honoria. After a moment his expression relaxed. “You are surprised.”
Surprised didn’t begin to describe it. She was astonished. Amazed. Incredulous. Flabbergasted. And completely befuddled. Not once in all the times she’d shot the arrow during practice had she come close to the center.
“Very good,” Cassandra said, her voice light with amusement.
“Capital shot!” George cried. “You did just as I told you, closed your eyes and shot to the left!”
Honoria could scarcely believe her luck. It had to be fate at work. A smile began to tickle her cheeks. It spread from there to her heart, so that it was with real joy that she met Marcus’s gaze. “I am a little surprised.”
“Little?”
“Well…I did practice. And I was doing quite well, too. Only not this well.”
Of course, it could just be beginner’s luck. Or the fact that her blood was high from the whole idea of winning this wager.
Whatever it was, she could only be thankful. “I suppose I should take my second shot.”
“By all means.” There was a faintly sarcastic tone to his voice, but she ignored it.
Honoria put her second arrow into the bow. Her heart pounded in her ears. Her hands were shaking just the slightest bit and she drew in a breath to steady them. Remember to close your eyes, and think a little to the left of center, she reminded her self. Deep breath. Aim the arrow. Close her eyes. And…Thunk.
Honoria opened her eyes and then gave an excited hop. She’d done it! This one hit slightly to the left of the center, but close enough to the original arrow to make it quiver in place.
“Did you—” The marquis rubbed his temple.
“Did I what?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It just looked as if—It’s the wind. It appeared as if the target bobbled just a bit.”
“The wind is very persuasive today.”
“Yes.”
Honoria smiled. It was all she could do not to give another excited hop. Ye gods, what excellent shots! It was a great deal too bad Portia and Olivia were not here, for Honoria was certain her sisters would be dancing up and down.
Feeling better by the minute, she smiled sweetly up at the marquis. “I believe it is your turn.”
He undid the buttons on his coat, pausing when he caught her eyes upon him. He raised his brow. “If you don’t mind?”
Heat touched her cheeks, but she forced herself to shrug as if she did not care. “As you wish.”
Humor glinted in his eyes as if he knew her thoughts, and then he undid his coat and shrugged out of it. With a bow, he then laid it across the railing that lined the edges of the terrace. The wind immediately began rifling through his coat where it lay on the rail, making it dance a bit, as if it had a life of its own.
Honoria ignored the coat. She could not help but admire the marquis’s athletic form as he lifted his bow and tested it a moment. The sunlight glinted off his hair and touched the fine lines of his face. It really was unfair for a man to have such thick lashes. She lifted a finger to her own lashes, which were of average length. Normally, she felt quite comfortable with them, but now, seeing Marcus’s…She sighed.
But even more disturbing was the line of his well-muscled arm beneath the fine linen of his shirt. She’d not have believed him to be so well-defined. Most members of the peerage seemed to be rather soft and shapeless, or so she’d thought. Not all of them, of course. Just most. But Treymount was obviously one who was not.
Unaware of her regard, he pulled back the arrow and released it. Thunk. Honoria suddenly realized she’d been watching him and not the target. She spun on her heel and looked…His arrow was a good two inches from the center of the target.
“Well!” She said brightly, aware of a surge of exhilaration.
“Blast it, but—” He shook his head as if to clear his vision. “I thought—I thought that the—” He bit off the last word, his brows lowered, his mouth thinned. “Blasted wind.”
“It is quite wretched, is it not?” Honoria felt she could be gracious if nothing else. She smiled broadly and waved a hand. “Are you ready for your next shot?”
He glowered. “Damn right I am.” He lifted the bow, fitted it to his shoulder, and the let the arrow fly. Once again there was a solid thunk, only this time Honoria was facing the target. It was strange, but just as the marquis let his arrow fly, it seemed as if the entire target shifted ever so slightly to one side.
Heavens, the wind was horrid. As if in answer to her thoughts, a tiny whirlwind of leaves and debris swirled up onto the terrace and fell apart against the stone wall.
Honoria realized then that the marquis’s arrow was right where his first arrow was—buried too far to the right.
She’d won.
She gave an excited screech and hopped up and down. She’d won! The marquis would have to help Cassandra now! All of their worries were over! She could scarcely believe her good luck.
She clapped her hands and turned to face her competitor, then stopped when she caught his dark glance. “Oh. Pardon me. I was just—I didn’t mean to be so—”
“You are enjoying the fruits of your win,” he said, a reluctant smile touching his mouth.
“Only a little.” She made a tiny space between her thumb and finger. “A very tiny little.”
A dry chuckle escaped him. “I don’t suppose I blame you. I would be doing the same thing, only…not quite so visibly.”
He really did have a lovely smile. So lovely, in fact, that she rather wished he wouldn’t use it. Not that she witnessed it often—she didn’t. But the damn thing was nigh irresistible, and Honoria worried that she might fall under its charm at a crucial moment of some sort.
The thought was both fearful and intriguing, all at the same time.
Marcus’s gaze flickered
past her to the target, the smile melting into a perplexed look. There was still a touch of chagrin on his face and for an instant Honoria felt badly for him. But then she remembered that all he stood to lose was a little of his oh-so-precious time and a thousand pounds, and that he would regain possession of his mother’s ring as well.
Thus, when he finally managed to drag his gaze from the target and back to her, she was able to smile without feeling the slightest remorse. “I had forgotten how much fun archery could be. Would you like to shoot another round?”
“Oh no!” Juliet rushed forward from where she’d been standing to one side. She laughed awkwardly, her violet eyes bright, almost too bright. “I am quite certain you’ve both shot enough for one day! Why don’t—I mean, perhaps we should all retire for some tea or some port or—”
Cassandra placed her hand on Juliet’s arm. “It’s too early for port. Perhaps the marquis would like some breakfast?”
Honoria looked at him. “Could we tempt you?”
“I am tempted, but I cannot.” He picked up his box and replaced his bow, then started to walk toward the target to retrieve his arrows.
But Juliet was quicker. She ran before him, her skirts lifted as she dashed ahead. “I’ll get them! You stay here with Cassandra and Honoria!” And with that she was gone, almost running to the target.
Honoria frowned. “I believe Juliet has had too much chocolate this morning.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Cassandra murmured, frowning as she watched their sister dash to the target and begin yanking arrows from it as if her life depended on it. What was worse, she was talking to herself, almost arguing about something.
The marquis said little, but finished replacing his bow, and then pulled on his coat. Juliet ran up then and handed him his arrows. He thanked her politely and then replaced them in their slots.
“Are you certain you won’t stay for breakfast?” Honoria asked, suddenly feeling…lost.
He shut the box with a snap. “No, thank you. But I shall have my man of business contact you about how best to settle our wager.”
Honoria dipped a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. I shall look forward to it.”
His eyes darkened at her prim manner. “You are a cheeky wench.”
Cassandra gasped, but Honoria just grinned. “Only when I win.”
He leaned forward, his blue eyes hard and unyielding. “Then I shall have to see to it that you do not win too often.”
She opened her mouth to retort, but Cassandra chose that moment to say, “My lord, thank you for your assistance. I hope escorting me will not be too much effort.”
The marquis turned to Cassandra, and it seemed to Honoria that his expression softened ever so slightly as he bowed. “It will be a pleasure.”
Color suffused Cassandra’s face. Honoria should have been pleased; certainly such gallantry was a step in the right direction. But for some reason she could not help feeling a flash of pure, raw envy.
Unaware that he was raising such unworthy emotions in her breast, the marquis smiled at Cassandra before sending Honoria one last fulminating look. Then turning on his heel, he left.
As soon as he was out of sight, Juliet threw her arms into the air and gave a huge whoop. “We won! We won!” She grabbed George and swung him around, much to his chagrin.
Cassandra smiled at Honoria. “What a lovely morning it has become.”
“It is one of the best,” Honoria agreed, linking her arm through her sister’s. “But it will be even better once I’ve had my breakfast. For some reason, I’m famished.”
“Winning will do that to you,” Cassandra agreed. “Come, everyone. Let’s have breakfast.”
Chapter 13
So then I played the jack…or was it the queen? Either way, it was an error, for that harridan trumped me immediately. So then I played my ten. No, wait…it was an eight. But that was a poor choice, too. Over and over she won. She must have cheated, for you know how I am at cards. I do not like to brag, but I have a memory of steel and I never forget who is holding what.
Lord Edmund Valmont to Miss Clarissa Ridgethorpe, while strolling the hedgerows at Vauxhall under the strict supervision of Miss Ridgethorpe’s mama
“You did what?”
Marcus took a drink of his port in an effort to cover his irritation. Why had he told Anthony about the wager? Why? “I am not repeating myself.”
“Good, because I don’t think I would believe it even if you did.” Anthony shook his head, his tawny locks making him look like a disgruntled lion. “How on earth did Honoria Baker-Sneed get you to agree to such a thing?”
How? She’d sat there on the carriage seat, her rich chest-nut hair tumbling about her shoulders, that intriguing streak of white at her temple, and then she’d fixed those large, hazel eyes on him with a look of utter disdain. He had to bite back a strange desire to smile at the memory.
That’s all it had taken. He’d been so ripe for a taste of her, it was a good thing that all she had asked for was a simple wager. Marcus wasn’t certain he’d have been able to say nay regardless of what she’d asked. Why, it was the thought of her that had made him soften toward Lord Melton, a fact Mr. Donaldson was still muttering about beneath his breath.
Marcus smiled, thinking of Honoria as she’d been this very morning, arrayed for battle, all pale and tense, the wind toying with the edges of her skirts. He’d wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and kiss away the frown that rested on her brow. It was strange indeed that he was becoming so quixotic so late in his life. Why was that? he wondered. Did it have to do with the way Honoria tossed out challenges with her very breath? Or was it something far more simple? Like…chivalry?
The thought almost made him choke, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could even breathe again. Catching Anthony’s inquiring glance, Marcus said hastily, “She offered the wager and I accepted. That’s all there was to it.”
“And then she beat you? At archery?”
“Yes.” He frowned. He still wasn’t quite certain how that had happened. Of course, the wind had been blowing quite hard, and that could have made his arrows fly to the side, but…he could have sworn he’d seen the target move. Perhaps that had been the work of the wind as well.
Whatever it was, he hadn’t paid it as much attention as he should have—he’d been far too engrossed in watching Honoria shoot. She’d never looked lovelier, her hair touched by the morning sun, her eyes reflecting the green of the garden, her slender body as she drew the arrow—
“Perhaps she cheated.”
Marcus frowned. “She would never cheat. She is not the type.”
Anthony eyed him a moment, a slow smile touching his mouth. “I think you’ve gone mad. And I mean that in the best way possible.”
“Mad? Why? If I’d won this morning, I would have mother’s ring back. It was a perfectly sane wager.”
“I think you’re mad because in the grand scheme of life, seven thousand pounds isn’t that much to you, and you’d have already had mother’s ring if you’d just loosened up your purse strings a bit. No, there’s another reason you didn’t want to just pay the funds. And I think it has to do with that woman.” Anthony’s brown eyes sparkled. “I think you’re intrigued with her.”
Marcus wondered how he’d even allowed himself to have this conversation with Anthony. But…there was something in what his brother said. He couldn’t remember ever being so fascinated by a woman. Never. Not to the point of agreeing to something as childish as an archery contest.
He caught Anthony’s considering gaze and lied, “Perhaps I’d had a bit too much to drink.”
Anthony grunted, leaning his large frame back in the chair and regarding Marcus through half closed eyes. Anthony always looked sleepy, especially when he was considering something.
Before his brother could come to any more incorrect conclusions, Marcus poured himself another spot of port, refilling Anthony’s glass at the same time. “There,” Marcus sai
d, pushing the glass across the table. “Drink that and stop looking at me as if I’ve spouted two heads.”
Anthony took the drink. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. In fact, I was thinking that perhaps your head has finally moved to where it should have been all along.”
“Oh? Where’s that?”
“Connected to your heart.”
Marcus frowned. “That is the second time in less than two weeks you have suggested I am coldhearted.”
Anthony hesitated. “Coldhearted is too severe of a word. Actually, I rather think it is an instance of pride. You have been inordinately successful, and due to your standing in the family, weighted with a lot of responsibility. I think it has come to you so naturally that you forget other people have different capabilities, different interests.”
Marcus clenched his jaw a moment. It was not pleasant to hear such things, especially from a brother. “I am not coldhearted, nor am I so eaten with pride that I no longer care for my fellow man.”
“You wouldn’t really notice it if you were, would you? That’s rather the nature of such an affliction. You have a tendency to see things through a rather unemotional filter.”
Marcus looked down at his glass, at the golden amber liquid that sparkled there. Damn it, there was something in what Anthony was saying. Not a lot, but…something. Marcus’s mind wandered to the Baker-Sneed home. There had been plenty of evidence that the family was having financial difficulties, and yet the home felt…warm, somehow. Warm and comfortable. He’d been aware of a sense of familial support the very second his booted feet had crossed the threshold.
His own house, meanwhile…He glanced about the huge library. Two stories tall with shelves from ceiling to floor and a narrow balcony rimming the entire room, it was a thing of beauty. He’d paid a fortune to have a mural painted on the ceiling by an Italian with a penchant for plump angels and scantily clad graces. A long, narrow ladder was fixed to a metal track so that one could access the balcony from any part of the room, and thus the second level of books, with the greatest of ease. It was a beautiful room, impressive even. But it still lacked something. The truth was, it felt a little like a museum rather than a home.