The really irksome question was, he supposed, was it just his house that felt so barren of feeling? Or was it more? Was it possible that it was he who was so without warmth and compassion? Had he forgotten his own humanity in his quest to secure the family fortune?
He imagined Honoria this morning, pale and determined, her hands shaking ever so slightly. She’d wanted so badly to win. And not for herself, but for her sister. She’d put her honor and pride on the line. What had he put? Nothing, really. A few moments of his time and…that was it. And he’d complained about even that.
“Marcus?” Anthony’s dark gaze rested on Marcus’s face. “What is it?”
He sighed. “I was just thinking of what you said.”
“And?”
Marcus shrugged. “Nothing. I am sure it’s just a momentary flicker of humanity, one sure to pass if I will but allow it.”
Anthony sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. But you have made me think. May we now speak of something else? Something more interesting?”
“Of course. Shall we discuss how you’re going to woo the lovely Cassandra?” A tremor of laughter warmed Anthony’s voice.
Marcus regarded his brother with a flat gaze. “I am not going to woo her. I am merely going to pay her some attention. Everyone will then begin to gossip and the chit’s feet will be set on the path of social success. Or so Miss Honoria would have me believe.”
“I really must spend some time with this Miss Honoria. She seems like quite a woman. A goddess, in fact.”
“That’s funny—” Marcus shook his head.
“What?” Anthony raised his brows.
“Nothing really. It’s just that…I called her Diana because she looks so like the statue residing in the Elgin marble collection at the museum. But she objected so I suppose I really must cease.”
“Diana the huntress? The one who carries a bow and arrows?” Anthony’s lips quivered. “How appropriate.”
That’s exactly what he thought, as well. Only…as much as he hated to admit, it wasn’t Honoria who was hunting. In all honesty, it had been him from the beginning. He was becoming more and more earnest in his desire to possess her. Not just in the carnal way, though that thought was precious indeed, but in other ways as well. He wanted to understand her, to know why she thought what she did, why she was the way she was.
And most of all, he wanted to know why just the sight of her made his life seem…brighter somehow. It was just possible that, while paying court to Honoria’s sister, he would find the answers to his questions.
It was odd, but as of two weeks ago, he would have sworn that his life was perfect. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Oh, he had some wonderful things in his life, he didn’t doubt that. His family, his estates, even Treymount House, were all areas of great satisfaction for him. But how could he find that flicker of warmth that seemed to imbue all of the Baker-Sneeds? Was it Honoria who caused such a transformation of the plain to the wonderful? Perhaps she—
He sat up a little straighter, realizing how serious his thoughts were. Bloody hell, if he continued like this, he’d be marrying the chit, and what a fiasco that would be. What had gotten into him that he was losing sight of what was really important?
“Why are you scowling all of a sudden?”
Marcus collected himself, wishing Anthony wasn’t quite so damned observant. “I was just thinking that perhaps I should avoid seeing any more of Miss Baker-Sneed.”
Anthony’s dark eyes fixed on Marcus. “Surely not! That would be a mistake indeed.”
“No, it wouldn’t. In fact, it would be the most prudent thing to do.”
“Hm.” Anthony regarded him for a long moment. “Perhaps you are afraid of her. She has forced you to break down that wall you were building—”
“While you have outstayed your welcome.” Marcus stood. “It has been a lovely hour, but I have matters to attend to, none of them having anything to do with you.”
Anthony grinned, but he placed his glass on the corner of the desk and stood. “Fine. Do as you will. Just realize this: you are playing against fate if you think to avoid the woman the talisman ring has led you to.”
“For the love of—I do not believe that silly ring has any powers.”
“Well I believe it,” Anthony said quietly. “And before this is all over, you will, too.” With that cryptic comment, he winked, turned on his heel, and left.
Marcus refilled his glass, grumbling to himself as he did so. Why was he saddled with such a brother? One who took such delight in plaguing him to death about the most ridiculous things. The ring had power…ha! He wasn’t so wet behind the ears as to believe that.
And yet…the ring had been in each of his brothers’ possessions when they’d found their true loves, so perhaps—No. That was ludicrous. Still, just to be on the safe side, he’d avoid being with Miss Baker-Sneed. At least for a while. With that thought firmly in mind, he returned to the stack of waiting letters that graced his desk and tried to lose himself in his work.
Honoria blinked. “You did what?”
Olivia bit her lip. “We wanted to be sure you won so we tied a string to the target. We knew you shot a trifle leeward a bit so…” She glanced at Portia.
Just as red-faced as Olivia was pale, Portia promptly added, “We tugged the target just a bit in that direction when you closed your eyes. And then, when the marquis took his shot, we moved it back. But only after he’d released the arrow.”
“It was horridly nerve-wracking for he kept looking at the target and frowning.” Olivia shook her head. “I thought for certain we’d been capsized.”
Honoria rose to her feet and took two steps forward. Then stopped. “You cheated? Or rather, you made me cheat? I can’t—how could you do that to me?”
Cassandra shook her head, gentle reproach in her gaze as she eyed her two younger sisters. “Olivia, you and Portia should not have interfered. Honoria would have won the wager without your help.”
“I don’t know about that,” Portia said a little defiantly. She looked at Honoria. “Did you know that the marquis is reputed to be excellent in all forms of marksmanship? Including archery?”
Honoria crossed her arms, too agitated to sit again. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I did know it. I am no novice myself and I would have held my own.”
“And if you’d lost?” Olivia asked. “What about poor Cassandra, then? Her dreams would have been floundered like a ship in a glassy sea!”
Cassandra frowned. “That doesn’t make it worth Honoria’s pride.”
Olivia flounced a little. “We did nothing to Honoria’s pride!”
“Besides,” Portia added, “all we did was move the target just the tiniest bit. It’s not as if we gave his lordship fouled arrows or anything of that sort.”
“That’s all,” Honoria said bitterly. She’d been so proud of herself for winning. So proud that she’d managed to outwit Marcus. Only to find out that it wasn’t a win at all, but a sham, was both disheartening and humiliating. She suddenly remembered how she’d teased him when he lost and her cheeks burned.
She sat down. “What do I do now?”
“I was just wondering the same thing,” Cassandra said. She folded her hands in her lap. “I cannot accept the marquis’s assistance based on an untrue wager.”
“Neither can I,” Honoria said grimly. She looked down at her hands, at the shimmer of the ring on her finger. “I must make this right.”
“How?” Olivia said, her eyes wide.
“I must tell the marquis what has occurred and offer my sincerest apologies.” Which would be as pleasant as swallowing a cup of bitters. “Treymount will positively crow over this and I will be left looking a fool.” She eyed her sisters. “I hope you are pleased with the results of your foolishness.”
Portia winced. “Honoria, surely you don’t have to tell the marquis about this?”
“Of course I have to tell him! I am not such a paltry goosecap as to think
I could stand by and collect on a debt that isn’t owed me. I must tell him. Besides, what if someone else discovers your duplicity and it becomes gossip? Do you think I want the marquis to hear about our deception secondhand?”
Olivia sighed. “I don’t know why you have to turn into a puritan about this, but…” Her shoulders slumped. “I suppose you are right. We thought it would be humorous if the marquis lost the wager. We didn’t think of it as being dishonest.”
“Besides,” Portia added, “we wanted to help Cassandra.”
Honoria swallowed a lump of irritation that threatened to overtake her. It was outside of enough that her sisters had interfered in her affairs. But what really hurt was that they thought her incapable of winning a wager—Honoria stood so abruptly her skirts swung forward. “If you ever interfere in my business in such a way again, I will—” What would she do? She clamped her lips together. “Just trust me on this: you will regret it.”
Portia and Olivia both nodded, their cheeks pink as they glanced at one another from beneath their lashes. “Yes, ma’am,” Portia said quietly.
“As you wish,” Olivia added. She hesitated, then said, “Perhaps Portia and I should visit the marquis and tell him what we’ve done. There is no reason you should be made to fix this problem since it was none of her doing.”
Cassandra placed her hand on Olivia’s arm. “That is a very noble offer, but I am certain Honoria would rather deal with it on her own.”
What she’d rather do was not deal with it at all. But she knew from experience that ignoring something did not make it go away. In fact, inaction usually made the situation worse.
Honoria went to the mirror over the fireplace. She looked painfully pale, which made the streak in her hair look all the brighter. “It is only proper that I see the marquis and explain what has happened. Perhaps he will agree to another match.”
Olivia brightened. “Oh, if he only would! That would be perfect for you’d certainly win and then he’d have to pay up!”
“When will you speak with the marquis?” Cassandra asked in her soft voice.
“I suppose I should do it as soon as I can. I will send a note to his house and ask him to wait on me here.”
“Perhaps we should invite him to dinner.” Cassandra pursed her lips. “It would be only polite and we have a nice leg of lamb that Cook can fix.”
Honoria considered this, then shook her head. “No, I want to tell him what has occurred, set up another wager, if he’ll allow it, and then forget about it. I do not want him sitting across from me all during dinner if he decides to take the news badly. Glaring is so hard on the digestion.”
Cassandra nodded. “You’re right, of course. And if you wait until after dinner, someone might blurt out the truth and he’d never believe you were going to tell him anyway.”
Portia immediately disagreed. She seemed to think they could all keep their mouths closed if it was important enough. She went on to suggest planning a large, lavish meal, one designed to put the marquis in the best possible mood. She also suggested saving the truth for the dessert, an idea that the drama loving Olivia found so much to her liking that the two immediately began to imagine all of the marquis’s reactions.
Honoria listened with but half an ear. She would not have Treymount for dinner. No, the shorter the meeting, the better, as far as she was concerned. Furthermore, she had no desire to prolong the agony…she wanted to tell him now.
So, as soon as she could, she escaped her sisters’ company and returned to the sitting room. Once there, she took pen in hand and wrote a short note.
My lord,
I must request the pleasure of your presence to discuss an issue that has arisen regarding our wager. Please come at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Honoria Baker-Sneed
She reread it twice, then sanded it and sent it off before she could change her mind. An hour later she was sitting with Cassandra in the dining room, going through the linens and removing the ones that needed mending when the reply came. She immediately sat down and opened it.
Miss Baker-Sneed,
I received your missive requesting a visit to discuss our recent wager. As I lost the wager and you won, you will forgive me if I tell you that I have no desire to discuss this issue now, or ever. I am sending the name of my solicitor. Through him, you can plan out the requirements of your sister’s launch into society. I promise to appear at whatever appointed times you require.
Thank you and good day,
Treymount
Honoria set down the letter.
“What is it?” Cassandra asked, holding up a sheet to see if it needed repairing. Deciding it did not, she refolded it and replaced it on the stack. “What does the marquis say?”
“He won’t come.”
“Why not?”
“I believe he is sulking.”
Cassandra frowned. “He didn’t strike me as the sort to sulk.”
Honoria folded the letter. “Well, he is certainly sulking now.”
“What will you do?”
That was indeed the question. Ye gods, what could she do? She couldn’t very well sit around and wait for Treymount to get over his tantrums. No, she needed to speak to him now. It would drive her mad waiting to tell him the horrid truth about Portia’s and Olivia’s little contretemps.
She handed a sheet that needed darning to Cassandra and then stood. “Father always said that one should meet fate well on the road.”
Cassandra picked up her sewing basket and set it in her lap. “Which means?”
“Which means that if the marquis will not come to me, then I will go to the marquis.”
Cassandra blinked. “But—”
“No. I must. It’s either that or I’ll be forced to admit what happened to the man’s solicitor, and I cannot like that.”
“Neither would I.” Cassandra set the sheet and her basket aside. “I will come with you—”
“No. I’ll take Mrs. Kemble. I don’t wish you to risk your reputation.”
“If you’re taking Mrs. Kemble, I don’t suppose anyone would say anything even if I did accompany you.”
“Well, I don’t wish to take any chances.” Honoria straightened her shoulders and ran a hand over her hair. “How do I look?”
Cassandra blinked as if surprised, and then smiled. “Beautiful, as you always do.” She stood and came to tuck a few stray locks away. “There. Shall I go and fetch your pelisse? It’s getting cooler.”
“Of course.” Honoria pressed a hand to her knotted stomach, though she managed a fairly credible smile in the interim. “I’ll find Mrs. Kemble while you are doing that.”
“Very well.” Cassandra took Honoria’s hand and squeezed it. “And don’t worry about the marquis. He may be angry with Olivia and Portia, but he will not blame you. He is a man of too much sense to believe you had anything to do with it, I just know it.” With a reassuring smile, she released Honoria’s hand and left.
“I wish I had your confidence,” Honoria muttered as her sister’s footsteps faded up the stairs. “What a tangle this is, thanks to Portia and Olivia! I could keelhaul the both of them.”
But soon it would all be over. She’d have told her tale to the marquis and, hopefully, convinced him to take another wager. But what would they wager on this time? She didn’t think he’d agree to archery once again. Perhaps pistols? She didn’t know much about them, but how difficult could they be? Or perhaps she could think of something else, something more to her advantage.
She sighed. Whatever she did, she was not going to enjoy this next half an hour. Hearing Cassandra’s feet back on the stairs, Honoria pulled herself together and went in search of Mrs. Kemble.
Chapter 14
Men. I can’t stand the way they flit from one topic of conversation to another. They have no ability to focus on more than one—Oh! Is that a new set of garnets? How lovely! Where did you get it? It is perfect with your hair color. Anyway, as I was saying, men have no abi
lity to focus.
Miss Clarissa Ridgethorpe to her best friend, Miss Suzanne Welton, as the two sipped warm orgeat, while sitting out a waltz at Almack’s
Head bent against the brisk wind as she stepped out of the hackney cab, hard on Mrs. Kemble’s heels, Honoria caught sight of the Treymount coach as it wheeled past, swerving wildly as it raced up the drive. The shining equipage flew to the front entryway, the matching bays prancing wildly. The sight of such high-spirited horses gave her pause.
“There he is, miss!” Mrs. Kemble breathed. She clutched her reticule tightly before her, her eyes as round as saucers. “And just look at those horses!”
“Uhm, yes. I was looking at them.” Honoria’s gaze traveled past the carriage to the house. What a mansion. What a mansion and what a man. It was a pity she was visiting under such distressing circumstances.
The coachman jumped down from his seat and, knocking aside a rather stalwart footman, ran to open the door. He opened it and stood to one side, beaming pleasantly.
Treymount appeared. He exchanged a few words with his coachman and then turned and climbed the front steps. He was bareheaded, the wind tousling his black hair and sending the edges of his multicaped great coat flying. Honoria took an impulsive step forward just as he disappeared inside.
“Here now, missus! Where’s me fare?” demanded the driver of the hansom cab.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Kemble said. “Should I—”
“Of course not.” Honoria unhooked her reticule from her wrist and paid the driver. “Please return in half an hour. We will be ready to depart by then.” She didn’t expect to be very long at all, but she didn’t have the money to pay the man to wait.
“Half an hour?” The man eyed the huge, lavishly detailed house that lifted before them, then looked at the pittance Honoria had placed in his palm. “I might return. Then again, I might be on t’other side of town.”
“You can go to the other side of town and hope someone hires you,” she said, adjusting her gloves to a more snug fit. “Or you can return in thirty minutes and know for certain you will get a hire.”