“I say!” said the man on the other black gelding. “Control your mount!”
“I am,” Treymount snapped. “You’d do well to do the same, Buckram!”
Indeed, the other gelding was thrashing about, neighing and backing up, while the marquis’s horse was quieting.
The woman waited until both horses were under control and then turned her attention to Honoria. “Well, well, well,” she drawled. “What have we here?”
The marquis frowned at the sound of the woman’s voice, but he nodded nonetheless, his manner noticeably cool. “Lady Percival.”
Honoria looked from one to the other, aware of an unnamed tension.
The woman looked directly at Honoria and smiled, though it wasn’t a nice smile at all. It was, in fact, somewhat catty. “Miss Baker-Sneed, isn’t it?”
Honoria blinked. How had the woman known her name?
As if reading her thoughts, Lady Percival smiled even wider, tossing her head a bit so that the tall ostrich feather that adorned her hat bobbed gently. “I saw you at the Oxbridge Ball. Everyone noticed you with Treymount and was dying to discover who you were.”
“Oh dear. I didn’t think anyone would notice me.”
Lady Percival’s cold eyes flickered across her. “They probably wouldn’t, under normal circumstances.”
One of the men with Lady Percival gave an amused snort at that. “We were all agog to discover Treymount’s latest flirt.”
Flirt? Honoria’s back stiffened. People thought she was Treymount’s flirt? Of all the—
“Oh don’t look like that, my dear,” Lady Percival drawled. “Everyone knows you are not that type of woman. What you are, in fact, is the marrying kind of woman. Marcus, you should really have a care.”
“Be careful what you say, Lady Percival,” Marcus snapped, his eyes blazing.
Lady Percival flushed the tiniest bit at his tone but kept her expression serene.
“If anyone was curious as to Miss Baker-Sneed’s identity at the Oxbridge Ball, it was because she was easily the most striking woman there.”
Buckram grinned at that. “Touché, Treymount.”
Lady Percival’s eyes flashed irritation. “Really, Marc—” The woman placed a hand over her mouth in pretend consternation. “I mean, Lord Treymount. Forgive me, it’s so hard to remember to call you that after—well, you know.”
Honoria suddenly realized what was happening. It was painfully obvious what the woman was trying to do—somewhere along the way, she and Treymount had apparently had a connection of some sort that had turned sour. And now the woman was bent on revenge.
Honoria had not been born yesterday, and coming from a household full of women, she recognized rejection when she saw it. It wasn’t a pretty emotion, but certainly it was a human one. “Lady Percival, it is very nice meeting you, but Mar—I mean, Lord Treymount—and I have a wager to settle regarding our horses.” She then turned to Marcus and said coolly, “Shall we continue?”
A fleeting look of surprise crossed his face, followed by a genuine smile that crinkled his eyes in a most attractive manner. “Indeed we shall, my dear. Indeed we shall.”
Honoria didn’t bother to do more than nod politely before urging Lightning on down the path. Marcus was beside her in an instant.
“That,” he said, “was masterful.”
“That,” she replied, “was nonsense. Who does that woman think she is?”
He sent her a sidelong glance, his expression intent. “She is the past. And nothing more.”
For some reason, the answer sent a flood of color to her cheeks. They walked on a ways more, Lightning shuffling along while the marquis held his horse in check. It shied a bit here and there, causing Honoria some uneasiness, but the basic disregard of her own horse made her relax more and more. Eventually, she began to notice things—that the sun was shining warmly though the trees, brightening the morning into a gentle day, that the flowers were blooming all along the paths, and that the sound of birds singing in the trees was quite a pleasant change from the constant clop clop of carts that were usually found outside her own home.
Better yet, she couldn’t help but enjoy her companion. He didn’t try to monopolize the conversation, or even keep it going, but seemed content to ride beside her, soaking in the morning much as she herself was. Every once in a while his gaze would meet hers and something would flare between them, a flash of warmth and…something more.
Good heavens, she wasn’t beginning to care for Treymount…was she? That would never do. She knew him far too well. He was about the chase, the excitement. She’d seen it in his eyes at the auctions, and knew it to be true from the way he lived his life, never settling with one woman long enough to be caught.
And that was what he would think of marriage—a trap to be avoided. Thank goodness she was not a marriage-minded miss. In fact, Honoria rather thought the state of marriage was grossly overrated. It was for other people, like gentle Cassandra, who enjoyed focusing her efforts on others. Honoria preferred to maintain her freedom, thank you very much. Which was a good thing, considering she seemed drawn to men of the same way of thinking.
They were just rounding the bend on the south side of the park where the traffic was lighter when Treymount finally pulled his impatient horse to a halt. “Here we are. I believe we can now conclude our wager.”
A flicker of disappointment almost mussed her smile, but she managed to maintain it. That was why they were here, of course. Still, she could not help but regret that their ride would soon be at an end. For the first time since she could recall, she’d enjoyed riding a horse—and spending time with the marquis—and she was in no hurry to see either end. “Of course. What shall we do?”
He glanced around, nodding at a small hedgerow that was slightly off the path. “First Demon and I shall jump it…and then you and Lightning.”
She nodded. “That looks promising.” Which was an absolute lie. There was no way her tubby horse would take a hedgerow. Why, she suspected it wouldn’t even leave the smooth pathway without some very strong encouragement. Still, it wouldn’t do to look ill-natured to the marquis. So instead she turned her horse’s head in the direction of the hedgerow and urged it forward.
The two horses started off the path; the marquis’s almost bolting. The horse had been held back since they’d first gotten to the park and it had become increasingly energetic as time passed. Honoria watched as the marquis easily brought the horse under control. Meanwhile, her own mount had paused at the edge of the path and then, with great reluctance, left it behind, walking slower and slower toward the hedgerow, reluctance evident in every line of its rather rounded body.
The marquis and his horse arrived first and had to wait quite awhile for them to catch up. As she drew abreast, he flashed her a smile and said, “Ready?”
“Oh yes,” she said, trying to match his smile, and failing miserably, a sudden thought catching her and making her stomach squeeze horribly. What if Lightning actually did take the hedgerow? Ye gods, what would she do then?
“What’s the matter?”
She realized that her fear must have shown on her face, for the marquis was looking at her intently, his brows lowered. She swallowed the emotion and forced herself to say in a light voice, “Oh nothing! I was just—” Her gaze found the hedgerow and she had an instant picture of herself being tossed off Lightning’s back and landing on her rump on the muddy ground below, the horse’s hooves terrifyingly close—
“Honoria.”
She blinked. Somehow the marquis had pulled his horse directly beside Lightning. He was leaning over, his face within inches of hers. “Don’t worry. You don’t even have to attempt it if you don’t wish.” Then, to Honoria’s further astonishment, he bent forward and kissed her.
Marcus would never be sure what it was that set him on that path. But for an instant there was such a look of pure panic in her face…it had amazed and distressed him. She was not the sort of woman to face mindless fear. In fact, sh
e possessed far more common sense than most men he knew. So to see her eyes clouded in such a way, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her pulse beating wildly in her throat…he’d had no choice. He’d had to kiss her.
Unfortunately, Demon took advantage of his master’s distraction. And just as Marcus’s lips touched Honoria’s, the horse bolted. Marcus, leaning far out of his saddle, fell forward heavily and knocked Honoria off her horse.
One moment they were upright, lips touching, hearts thudding wildly. And the next they were laying in the dirt, Marcus atop Honoria, his face pressed against her shoulder, his knees between hers. There was a flurry of dust as the groom went flying posthaste to capture the wild horse.
Marcus could not believe what had happened. He could feel the wild beating of Honoria’s heart; smell the sweet scent of her hair. If he lay very, very still, he could feel her body growing softer beneath his, and feel his own reacting—He almost groaned. God, but she was lush. But this was not the time or place. So he raised up on one elbow—just as a sharp, feminine laugh rang out behind him.
Lady Percival. Marcus closed his eyes, and it was in that moment that he knew his fate; the blasted talisman ring had caught yet another St. John in its invisible net.
Bloody hell, what was he going to do now?
Chapter 16
And then Treymount rose from the mud and declared that Miss Baker-Sneed and he were merely celebrating their upcoming nuptials! Imagine that, celebrating your betrothal in the dirt on a Thursday morning in the park!
Miss Charlotte Welton to Lord Albertson, as they danced the cotillion at Almack’s
“I cannot believe this!” Portia exclaimed, looking around the room. It was filled with flowers, cards, and boxes of various types. The entire room was transformed from ordinary into a fairyland of delightful, frothy items. She sighed happily and looked at Honoria. “You and Treymount! Who would have ever thought?”
“I would have thought,” Juliet said from where she was systematically opening a stack of well-wishes and invitations from various members of the ton. “After all, Honoria has been wearing the St. John talisman ring for weeks now. It was only a matter of time before it caught up with her.”
Honoria, who had been staring miserably into the fire, looked up at that. “When did you find out about the history of the ring?”
“Oh, I’ve always known. Everyone knows.”
Portia nodded wisely, peering into yet another gift box. “Indeed. We thought it was all a hum, but apparently not.” She pulled out some paper and then brightened. “Oh! Look! Another teapot. You shall have hundreds by the time the wedding occurs.”
“Not to mention,” Juliet said, sorting yet another gilt-edged invitation into an acceptance pile, “that we are now invited everywhere. Honoria, you have made us! We will all get handsome, wealthy husbands now!”
Honoria didn’t reply. Instead she glared down at the ring on her finger. Blast it, was the ring to blame for this mess? She didn’t want teapots. She didn’t want invitations. And while she did want her sisters to have every positive advantage in the world, she’d had no wish to sell her own freedom for such a thing.
Not that marrying Treymount would necessarily mean an end to her freedom. After all, it wasn’t a love match. No, it was a matter of necessity, brought on by Treymount’s inability to keep his tongue in his own mouth.
She seethed, thinking of all the things she had to say to Treymount, things as yet unsaid. After calmly announcing that they were engaged to the blackguards who had come upon them in the park, he had waited for their groom to return and then had escorted her home, maintaining a stony silence the entire while.
Honoria had been too stunned to say anything herself. Ye gods, this was not what she’d wanted at all, despite the delight her sisters were having at her expense. Cassandra finding a wealthy, handsome husband was one thing—she lived for that sort of thing. But Honoria found it horrid beyond belief. She didn’t want to get married, especially not to someone who so obviously didn’t wish to marry at all.
To be honest, that was the real heart of the matter—she was doing the one thing she’d never wanted to do, giving up her freedom, and for what? To be considered a burden? An “unfortunate occurrence”? God help her, but the relationship, which had been rather explosive to begin with, promised to become one of awkward tension and polite distance.
As if to reaffirm her worst fears, it had been four whole days since she’d heard from Treymount except for a series of impersonal notes asking her rather abrupt questions about their soon-to-be wedding. To still any further furor, he’d decided that they should marry as soon as possible and had gone about arranging matters with very little input from her.
The whole thing was maddening. And though she’d written repeatedly, asking to meet, he’d merely responded that as soon as he had everything arranged, he’d be with her forthwith. And so the days had passed…
The most frustrating thing was that she knew he was right—they had to marry. Thanks to the loose lips of that harpy, Lady Percival, everyone knew of her and Marcus’s accidental embrace. If Honoria didn’t marry the marquis, not only would her reputation be in tatters, but her sisters’ as well. The ton was many things, but discriminating in spreading blame was not one of them. Any close relative of a shunned person would be shunned as well unless they had either money or social standing of their own. To her chagrin, her sisters had neither.
“Honoria, do you think it will be a grand wedding?” Portia asked for the thousandth time.
“No,” Honoria answered for the thousandth time in return. “Not if I have anything to do with it.” She only wished she could say there wouldn’t be a wedding. The last thing she ever wanted was to marry a man who was only marrying her out of a sense of duty. And yet, because of their predicament, that was exactly what was going to happen.
She’d stayed away from Treymount as long as she could, truculently obeying his request for her to wait for an audience once he had things arranged. But then, yesterday, she’d broken. Accompanied once again by Mrs. Kemble, Honoria had gone to Treymount House, determined to regain some semblance of control of her own life. However, on arriving at the house, the butler had informed her that the master was out.
Honoria didn’t believe it for a minute; it was barely nine and she was certain the marquis had not yet risen from bed, but beyond marching past the servants and searching the house, she had no other recourse than to leave a note and return home. Of course, the note she’d left had been pithy, abrasive, and rather impolite, but on the whole had expressed her emotions at being left out of the entire process.
Treymount had not answered her note. And now…Honoria shifted listlessly, staring down at the tips of her slippers. The sad truth was that she had never felt so low in her entire life. Which was why early this morning she’d penned Treymount yet another note. One demanding a meeting as soon as possible, or else she was once again going to descend on Treymount House and no amount of frigid butlers was going to keep her out. She was certain it would be ignored, too, but it had at least given some vent to her jumbled feelings.
The door opened and Mrs. Kemble entered, beaming from ear to ear. “Oh Miss Honoria! He’s here!”
Finally. A wave of relief and irritation raced through Honoria. She stood and smoothed her gown. Oh pother! Why had she worn this old gown? She had at least a half dozen that were better and—She realized everyone was looking at her. Heat rose in her face and she said as calmly as she could, “Of course. Please show him to the sitting room.”
Mrs. Kemble nodded and scurried off.
“But—” Portia frowned. “We want to see him, too!”
“Oh yes,” Olivia said. “We want to welcome him into the family and—”
“Honoria and the marquis need some time alone,” Cassandra reproached gently. “They have hardly had time to talk since—” She glanced at Honoria and flushed. “Since their engagement.”
“Thank you,” Honoria said. She glanced at
the mirror over the mantel and wished her hair hadn’t chosen today of all days to look so…frothy. It was horrid, and pin as she would, she could not keep it from wisping about.
Sighing, she tucked away one or two loose strands and, ignoring the considering stares of her sisters, she left. Moments later she faced the door to the sitting room, her heart pounding in her throat, her mouth almost painfully dry.
Gathering her courage, she opened the door.
Marcus turned, his hat in his hand, his greatcoat still on. His gaze raked her up and down before he bowed. “Good morning.”
She curtsied politely, realizing with a sinking heart that because he had not relinquished his coat and hat, that he had no intention of staying long. “Good morning. I hope you are well?” Ye gods, what was she doing, trading pleasantries like a ninny? She had something to say and she was going to say it.
He must have felt the same way, for a smile tugged at his mouth, his blue eyes twinkling reluctantly. “The weather is nice, too. Shall we speak about that?”
“Please, no.” She sighed and pressed her hand to her temple. “I’m sorry; it’s just that this is painfully awkward for us both. I hate that it happened, for it is the last thing on earth that I wished.”
He paused, his mirth disappearing before a considering look. His gaze searched hers thoroughly. “You hate that it happened?”
Her cheeks heated. “Of course I do. I have no more wish to marry than you.”
A frown flickered across his face, followed by something else, an expression she couldn’t decipher. “Well, since we are stuck with one another, I suppose we should make the best of it.”
The words made her flinch inside, but she hid it. “I suppose so.” She gestured toward the chairs by the fire. “Shall we sit?”
He glanced at the chairs, then at the sofa. “Yes, but here. I want to see your face.”
That was an odd thing to say, she thought. But she did not demur and followed him to the sofa. They sat, slightly turned toward one another, the air about them heavy and awkward.