Honoria shook her head. “If you cannot tell me why you need to see Treymount, then I am afraid I am powerless to assist you.”
His gaze flickered once more to Cassandra, a deep flush staining his cheeks. “I can’t tell you! It’s personal and—”
“Thank you for visiting,” Honoria said, standing swiftly.
Cassandra finally looked up from her slippers. “Honoria, please…give Lord Melton some time. I’m sure he will explain himself well once he’s had time to consider it.” She gifted the young lord with a look brimming with gentle light. “You will, won’t you? Explain everything to us?”
No man could have withstood such a gentle plea. Honoria sank back into her chair, waiting as Melton went from red to pale.
“Miss Baker-Sneed, I—” He swallowed, the sound painful in the silence.
Cassandra leaned forward. “We will not betray your confidences.”
“I didn’t think you would,” he replied just as seriously. “I never thought you would.” Melton glanced at Honoria and gave a surprisingly bitter laugh. “I’m a fool, Lady Treymount. A horrid fool. I had a fortune—not a large one, but enough, and…” He spread his hands wide. “I lost it.”
“All of it?”
“More than likely.”
“I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “I inherited my title at a rather young age, both of my parents succumbing to smallpox while I was on the continent with my tutor, doing the Grand Tour. I’m afraid, what with the shock of my parents’ death and the fact that I was so young—I did not handle things well at all. In fact, I was a fool of the worst sort. I didn’t stay at the family seat, but came to London and found myself consorting with the wrong kind of people. With no thought but pleasure, I began to work my way through my funds at an alarming rate.”
“Did you have no one to guide you?”
“A distant relative had been named trustee, and he did what he could. But I was young and foolish and I didn’t understand how things were. Frankly, I didn’t want to. I just wanted to enjoy myself, to forget that my parents were gone. I—I’m afraid my behavior was far from what it should have been. Eventually, I had markers all over town.”
Cassandra paled slightly. “You gamble?”
“Not anymore,” he said quickly. “That is all in the past.”
“Good,” Cassandra said, smiling encouragingly.
Honoria frowned. “I’m sorry, but how does Treymount play into all of this?”
“He purchased a goodly number of my markers and offered to settle them all if I would but sign over the family seat and lands.”
“Heavens!” Cassandra gasped. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
Melton grimaced. “To be honest, it is more than fair. The lands and house are not in good repair, and the amount I owed—it was a generous offer, though at the time, it seemed horrid. I didn’t want to take it. So I asked Treymount if he would give me some time to think of another way out of this mess, another way to find the funds to purchase the markers myself.”
Honoria leaned forward. “What did Treymount say?”
“He said no at first. But something made him change his mind, and so he offered to let me find a venture where I could make the funds back providing I will no longer gamble.”
“Have you stopped?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes. Completely.” A rueful grimace accompanied Melton’s words. “I have to say, it was something of a release. I would tell myself that I was not going to gamble, but I knew I owed so much—there seemed no other way to regain my fortune. So I gambled and hated every moment of it.”
Cassandra beamed. “Good for you.”
“Thank you,” Melton said. For a long moment he and Cassandra just looked at one another.
A flicker of alarm traced through Honoria. Did Cassandra harbor a tendre for this man? She cleared her throat. “Lord Melton, you still have not told us why you must see Lord Treymount.”
“Because he offered to let me find my way out of this mess, if I could think of a way to earn it. And I have.”
A smile touched Cassandra’s face. “Which is why you are here, arguing with Jeffries.”
His gaze softened as he looked back at Cassandra. “Yes.”
“Lord Melton,” Honoria said with some firmness, “what is your idea?”
He tore his gaze from Cassandra. “There is only one thing I do know—horses.”
“Ah,” Cassandra said. “How exciting!”
“Yes. There are some excellent stables at my property, and I already own two likely mares. All I’d need to get is a stud and—” He suddenly seemed to recall who he was talking to, for he flushed and shook his head. “This is not an appropriate conversation. I’m sorry.”
“Oh it’s no problem,” Honoria said smoothly. “I can see why you are anxious to speak to Lord Treymount.” She stood. “If you will wait here, I will fetch him.”
He stood as well. “Thank you so much! I cannot express how much this means to me.”
She looked at Cassandra. “Perhaps you should find Portia and then take Lord Melton to see the fountain. I will send in one of the footmen to accompany you.”
Cassandra’s color rose, but she stood. “That would be lovely. Lord Melton, I think you will enjoy our garden.”
“I am certain I shall.”
Cassandra sent him a pleased smile and then left to find Portia.
The second Cassandra was gone, Melton turned to Honoria, a troubled look in his dark eyes. “I must admit something.”
“Yes?”
“I was planning on regaining my fortune ever since the marquis offered me this chance. But then I met your sister—” He flushed. “I don’t wish you to think ill of me, but it has made me think. I—I know I don’t have a chance, but if I can straighten out the mess I’ve made—”
“Lord Melton, Cassandra is her own person, and she will decide who she wishes to be with. I can only say that she is very mature and responsible. I cannot see her being with someone who is not the same in that aspect.”
A determined light entered Melton’s eyes. “Lady Treymount, you will see that I am a changed man. I will do what I must to be worthy to call on her.”
Honoria smiled, though her heart ached at the determination she saw in the young lord’s eyes. Why hadn’t Marcus been so quick to answer her when she’d needed him to?
Cassandra returned, Olivia in tow, since Portia was engaged in placing a pattern for a small silk suit for George’s frog for their new play, The Frog Prince. Honoria saw them off into the gardens, Olivia chatting away while Lord Melton gazed in admiration at a blushing Cassandra.
Honoria sent a footman to escort them all and then made her way to Treymount’s study.
Marcus was sitting at his desk, half listening to Donaldson wax on and on about some obscure aspect of his holdings in Yorkshire. It was annoying, but for the last week he could not seem to concentrate. Thoughts flitted in and out of his mind and made him shift restlessly in his chair.
Honoria loved him. It was odd, but he wasn’t quite sure why the admission bothered him so. Surely it was normal for a wife to love her husband…and surely it was normal for that to be discussed. If only he could figure out why the thought of holding her affections made him feel so conflicted.
What did he feel for her? Was it love, this warm gentle glow that made him smile at odd moments? Surely he’d never felt this way before, but…he’d never been married before either. What if, instead of love, it was merely an appreciation for companionship, for the delight of her company?
Until he was certain, he would not utter the words aloud. He could not.
A soft knock came at the door.
“Come in,” he said quickly, interrupting Donaldson with something like relief.
The door opened and Honoria entered. Marcus’s heart quickened and he stood, Donaldson following suit.
“My lord. Mr. Donaldson.” She came to stand in front of the desk, giving them each a friendly nod. The sun glinted across her hair,
warming the chestnut curls and brightening her lock of white. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“Oh no,” Mr. Donaldson said, replacing some papers into his leather satchel and sending Marcus a rather dry look. “I was merely informing his lordship of a border problem and he was politely dreaming about other things.”
Marcus winced. “I apologize if I did not appear to be listening—”
“Nonsense.” Mr. Donaldson collected his papers and satchel, a smile on his round face. “You have other matters to attend to, which is as it should be. I shall return in the morning when you have more time.”
Blast it, Marcus thought, he had time now. He was just…He slanted a glance at Honoria and then wished he hadn’t. She was dressed in green today, a pale mint color that made her hazel eyes seem all the more vivid. The silk gown was perfect for her softly rounded form, flowing over the curve of her hip and the long, smooth expanse of her thighs—
Good God, in a moment he’d be writing a sonnet to her toes. He was distracted, that’s what he was. Completely distracted.
He waited until the door closed behind Donaldson before he asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A faint color touched her cheeks. “I am sorry for intruding. I didn’t mean for Mr. Donaldson to leave.”
“He didn’t leave because you arrived; he left because I was busy thinking of something other than what he was saying. I’m afraid I haven’t been very attentive today.” He returned to his chair, his gaze flickering over her. She looked fresh and delectable in her gown, but he knew that she would look even more delectable out of it. His body stirred instantly and he frowned. Damn, but he hated this odd state of affairs. A surge of irritation sliced through him and he flashed a disgruntled glance at the cause of his discomfort. “Did you want something?”
She lifted her brows at his tone. “Yes, I do.”
“Then say what it is. I’ve work to do.” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but whenever they were together, he felt as if he was missing something.
“Marcus, I was just speaking to Lord Melton.”
“Melton?” Marcus hadn’t thought of Melton in over a week, though the young cub had tried to corner him on any number of instances. “When did you talk to him?”
“Just now. He came to see you, but Jeffries told him you were out, so I spoke to him instead.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No, but he seemed so upset, and Cassandra—” Honoria closed her lips. “I thought someone should talk to him.”
“That should have been me.”
“Yes, but he…” She paused and a faint smile touched her lips. “You should hear what he has to say. I think it might surprise you.”
Unknowingly, Marcus’s hand clenched about the pen. What the hell was that look? She appeared amused, almost tender. A flash of feeling he’d never before experienced exploded hotly in his chest. Before he even knew what he was about, he snapped, “To hell with Melton. Honoria, you have no authority where my business is concerned. You are to limit yourself to the house and nothing more.”
“You—You—” Fury, mingled with hurt, flashed in her eyes.
Bloody hell, he sounded like the biggest ass on earth. What the hell was wrong with him? “No, no!” He threw down the pen and rubbed his temples. “Honoria, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I just—”
“There is no need, my lord. I understand you perfectly.” Shards of ice could not have been colder or more pointed. “I shall endeavor to keep my onerous presence to a minimum.”
“Honoria, I just—for a moment, I thought you and Melton—”
She stiffened, her eyes widening. “Melton and I what? We what? We spoke, Marcus. That is all. About his obligation to you.”
Marcus stood. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Lord Melton is in the garden with Portia and Cassandra. If you have nothing more to do than mull such empty thoughts, perhaps you will find the time to meet with Lord Melton.” With that, Honoria turned on her heel and swept toward the door.
Marcus was around the desk in a flash. He caught her just as she reached for the door. “Honoria!” He held her by both arms and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry, I—”
She broke free, her eyes flashing angrily, tears welling even as she stood before him. “I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m already sorry enough for both of us. Sorry I married you. That was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”
He released her. He never meant to make her cry. Never meant to make her sad or angry. Feeling like the world’s largest heel, he watched her turn and leave.
Marcus left the house almost immediately. He made his way to White’s and sat in a corner, drinking port and trying to dull the strange emptiness that filled his chest. After an hour, slightly tipsy, but still feeling uncertain and pained, he left and made his way to Anthony’s house.
He was greeted by the butler and then escorted into the red salon. There, he waited.
After several minutes the door opened.
Marcus turned to speak, but stopped. It was not Anthony standing in the door, but his wife, Anna. Almost as tall as Marcus, red-haired and elegant with a Roman nose, she looked at him through gray eyes that usually sparkled with humor. Usually. Today, they sparkled with indignation. Marcus swallowed a sigh. “You’ve talked to Honoria.”
“Yes I have. I stopped by to see if the dressmaker had brought the gown we ordered and I found her crying.”
Marcus rubbed his temples. She was crying. Good God, what had he done?
Anna’s mouth thinned. “Well, Treymount? What have you to say to your hateful behavior?”
“I apologized.”
“Yes, but you did nothing to correct things. An apology without true remorse is not worth a farthing.”
“Damn it, Anna! I said I was sorry, and I am. What else am I to do?”
“I don’t know. All I do know is that your little spat is the reason your wife was crying.” Anna’s gaze grew even more accusing. “What have you said to that woman that she could be so heartbroken?”
“Anna, is Anthony here? I came to speak to—”
“He’s at White’s.”
“But I was there and—”
“He just left, looking for you. I daresay he’s just arrived.”
Marcus bowed. “Thank you. I am sorry to be abrupt but—”
Anna grasped his sleeve, her clear gray eyes meeting his. “Marcus, whatever you’ve done, set it to rights. She is worth too much to be hurt.”
He paused, placing his hand over Anna’s. “I know. I just need—I have to figure out a few things first. As soon as I do, I will speak with her and solve this problem.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
Anna looked steadfastly into his eyes. Suddenly, her usual smile lit her eyes to silver. “Why Marcus, you—I never thought I’d see the day.”
“What?”
She laughed and released his arm. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Go and find my husband and see if he can’t knock some sense into you.”
“I shall do just that.” He turned toward the door. Just as he reached it, Anna called after him.
“Marcus? In case you are wondering, the gown Honoria has chosen for the ball is red.”
He frowned. “And?”
Anna shrugged. “Nothing. Just in case you were wondering. That’s all.”
Marcus shook his head. Women and their mysterious warnings. His sister, Sara, used to do the same thing. Sighing, he nodded once to Anna and then left.
Marcus found Anthony sitting in one of a pair of chairs before a neat fireplace, his feet crossed at the ankles and resting on a stool, a cigar in one hand, a glass of port in the other. “There you are.”
Anthony raised his brows. “Obviously.”
Marcus scowled and took the chair. “I have been looking for you. Anna said you’d be here.”
“And now you have found me.” Anthony took a slow puff of the cigar, eyeing Mar
cus all the while. “Well?”
Marcus rammed his hands in his pockets and stretched his legs out before him. “What?”
“I was sent here on a mission, and if you’ve already seen my rather opinionated wife, you know what it is.” Anthony set down the glass of port. “Marcus, what happened between you and Honoria?”
“Nothing,” he growled.
“Whatever happened, you’re as grouchy an old bear. It’s a pity, because Chase and I were both talking just yesterday about how much more pleasant you were now that you had Honoria in your life.”
That was probably true. Before she’d burdened him with an admission of her feelings—he could still see her now, could still feel the weight of her crestfallen expression when he hadn’t answered her. Good God, why did he feel so bad?
“Damn it, Marcus. If you aren’t going to talk, at least stop sighing all over the place.”
“Was I sighing? I didn’t mean to. I’m just—” He shook his head.
Real concern flickered over Anthony’s face. “Marcus, marriage is not an easy thing.”
“No, it’s not.” Although…he’d rather enjoyed being married to Honoria at one time. They had passion—and an astounding amount at that. More than he’d ever had with anyone else. And his life was certainly pleasanter with her and her family about.
He thought of the little scene between George and Chef Antoine. There was never a boring day with the Baker-Sneeds, a fact he was just now beginning to appreciate.
Honoria had also moved almost effortlessly into Treymount House and things had never been better run. He’d already noticed some improvements to his comfort that had left him feeling almost cosseted. But…she loved him. His own wife loved him. He couldn’t seem to get his mind around that fact. He caught Anthony’s gaze and shifted in his chair. “I am a bit overwhelmed.”
“I see,” Anthony said, pouring a generous amount of port into his own glass. “The siblings?”
“No, no. They are fine. A pleasure, actually.”
Anthony grinned. “I take it then that none of them are as opinionated as your Honoria.”
“More so, except perhaps Cassandra.” Marcus leaned his head back against the chair back. “They are a lively group. Juliet is horse-mad and will not leave Demon be. What’s odd is that the blasted horse actually likes her and is as docile as a flower around her. Then there’s Olivia, who has an amazing propensity to just blurt out what she thinks, will you nil you. And Portia who is, I think, destined for the stage.”