Lady in Red

  “They sound delightful.”

  “They are. Except yesterday when Olivia said my wonderful Flemish tapestry had less to offer than—oh, what did she say?” His frown cleared. “Ah, yes! She said it had less to offer than ‘a square-masted rig in flat waters.’ Whatever that means, though I’m fairly certain it was an insult.”

  Anthony shook his head. “She is just as bad as Chase and Brandon. Neither of them concerns themselves with the arts. By the way, how is the boy doing?”

  “George, the terror of Treymount? He and that damned frog find more things to get into. Just this morning I went to put on my favorite riding boots and they were gone. Seems he’d decided they’d make a good house for his frog and so he just took them. And when I taxed him on it, he pointed out that he’d left a shilling to pay for them.”

  “And had he?”

  “Well…yes. I just hadn’t seen it because I was looking for my boots and not a coin.”

  “How old is this little fellow?”

  “About seven.”

  “That’s pretty decent of him then, to pay so much.”

  Marcus dropped his chin to his neck cloth. “Anthony, Honoria and I had a conversation…”

  “So? I hope you have many.”

  “No, no. We were talking, and to my surprise, she told me that—” His tongue tangled about the words and he fell silent.

  “She told you what?”

  “That she loved me.”

  Anthony’s eyes widened and then he broke into laughter, so loud and long that eyes began turning in their direction.

  “Enough,” Marcus growled, feeling like the biggest fool to walk the earth. Dammit, what was wrong with Anthony?

  “Good God, Marcus. She tells you that she loves you and you look at me as if you’ve just been stabbed with a knife. Why is that? I don’t see—” Anthony’s smile faded. “Bloody hell, Marcus. What did you tell her when she admitted she loved you?”

  Marcus didn’t move.

  “Marcus?” Concern darkened Anthony’s his brown eyes. He leaned forward. “What did you tell her?”

  “Nothing.”

  Anthony’s eyes widened. “What? Marcus, you had to say something!”

  Marcus shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know how I feel. I just—” Marcus frowned. “Love is not a word I ever thought to say.”

  “You are the one who used the talisman ring as a wedding ring. I’d say that of all of us, you are the one most assured of finding love.”

  Marcus wondered why he had done that. He’d had plenty of time to get another ring and even looked at some, but none of them seemed like Honoria. None of them had seemed as right as the talisman ring. “It doesn’t matter about the blasted ring. I just—Anthony, what am I going to do? She says she loves me, and I’m not sure—”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know! I care about her, of course. But…love?”

  “Bloody hell. When did this happen?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “But…what happened today? Anna went to your house to see Honoria and found her crying her eyes out.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Melton came to the house. I’ve been meaning to speak to him, but…things have been hectic. Anyway, Honoria took an interest in him, and for some reason it made me furious and—Damn it, Anthony, why are you laughing?”

  “Because you are the biggest fool to walk the earth.” Anthony flicked his cigar into the fire and then set his empty glass on the table. “Marcus, I am going to do you a great favor. I want you to think of your life with Honoria. And then I want you to think of what life would be without her. Then, when you’ve done that, I want you to take a long look into that overly controlled heart of yours and figure out just who you are and what you want.”

  He stood, looking down at Marcus with a frown. “And when you do all of that, you had better pray that your wife didn’t take your silence to mean that you do not love her, for if she did, she will leave you and nothing you can say will make a difference from that point on.”

  Marcus stiffened. “She’ll leave?”

  “She’s not the type of woman to stay where she thinks she is not wanted, Marcus. Even I can see that, and I’ve only spoken to her a half dozen times. That, and Anna said—” Anthony stopped.

  “What?”

  “When Anna went to your house, she found Honoria piling trunks into a carriage and—”

  Marcus didn’t hear a word. He was already on his way to the door.

  Chapter 20

  I said, “Do you like the lobsters in butter” not “You look like a Labrador to the butler!” I vow, but I am moving down to your end of the table. This distance is putting a strain on our marriage.

  The Duke of Devonshire to the Duchess of Devonshire, while collecting his silver and plate and moving to her ladyship’s end of their new twenty-four-foot-long mahogany dining table

  Marcus promised Herberts twenty quid if the coachman could make it back to Treymount House in less than ten minutes. They had to get there before she left. They just had to. Sitting in the wildly swaying coach as it charged down narrow streets, jumped curbs, and clattered madly through one corner of Hyde Park, Marcus’s mind raced ahead as he planned just what he’d say to Honoria. Surely he could say something—do something to change her mind.

  Perhaps he should kiss her first and then talk to her. That seemed a more likely approach. If he could soften her heart and get her to drop her shields, then perhaps she would listen to his request to stay with more heart. If only he could—

  The carriage pulled up to the house. Marcus didn’t even wait for Herberts to open the door, but threw it open himself and jumped down.

  “Me lord!” Herberts called, affronted at having his duties supplanted.

  But Marcus had no time. He raced up the steps, taking off his greatcoat the second he walked through the front door. “Ah, Jeffries! There you are!” He handed his coat and hat to a footman. “Where is her ladyship? I must speak to her—”

  Jeffries held out a silver salver. In the center sat a single note.

  Marcus looked at it, realizing for the first time how the house had grown icily silent, the feeling of warmth he’d come to love absent. She was gone. They all were. He could feel the emptiness of Treymount surrounding him, pressing in, weighing him down.

  Swallowing hard, he took the note. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that his hand was trembling ever so slightly. The paper was cool and smooth beneath his fingers, but he could not seem to gather the thoughts necessary to open it.

  Someone took his arm and he heard Jeffries’s voice in his ear. “A bottle of brandy, sir. In the library.”

  The letter seemed to crumple in his hand. Marcus realized that he was crushing the note, his fingers tightly curled about it. Somehow, he was sitting at his desk, Jeffries saying something that he could not really hear. As soon as Jeffries left, Marcus uncurled his fingers from the note and read.

  My lord,

  After much thought, I have decided that I cannot continue in this marriage. I apologize for my error in admitting my feelings; you will never hear those words from me again. I know you will feel it incumbent to profess these same sentiments, but it has become painfully obvious that you do not return them.

  To spare ourselves any more embarrassment, I suggest that after Cassandra is successfully launched, that you and I quietly seek an annulment. I am willing to do as you feel is best.

  I will, of course, return on the morrow for the ball, and I can assure you that you will have nothing to fear in my comportment.

  All best,

  Honoria

  His first impulse was to go to her, to take her in his arms and declare—What? That his life was empty without her? That his house and his heart were empty without her? That…he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. A slow seed of truth began to sprout. He respected Honoria. He admired her.

>   He loved her.

  He had loved her since the time he’d gone to visit her and she’d overpoured her teacup.

  He sat forward suddenly, almost gasping at the heaviness that pressed in on his chest. He loved her. Happiness flooded him and he leapt to his feet. He must tell her! He crossed to the door—then stopped, his hand on the knob. As she said in the note, any attempt to profess his love now would be seen as appeasement.

  She wouldn’t believe him. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He thought of his own impetuous words this afternoon, of his unreasonable jealousy over Melton—good God, what a fool he’d been. She loved him, not Melton. Why had he been so crazed with jealousy?

  Because he’d been fighting his own feelings instead of admitting them. He was a bloody fool. But now was the time to fix things.

  He’d have to think of something. Some way to prove to her that he loved her with all of his heart.

  The door opened and Jeffries appeared with a decanter and a glass. “There you are, my lord.” He placed the tray on a small table by the fire. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but I had to turn away that young man, Lord Melton. He was most distraught to discover that—”

  “Melton is here?”

  Jeffries looked up from where he was pouring port into a glass. “He was. But he left and—”

  Marcus was out the door, yelling for one of the footmen to catch up to Lord Melton and bring him back. Perhaps, just perhaps, that was a way to show Honoria that he had changed. It wouldn’t be enough to prove his love, but it was a start.

  Marcus returned to the library to await Lord Melton. What could he do to really prove his love to Honoria? He needed something large, significant. Something far definitive. Something…Marcus sat silent at his desk, staring with unseeing eyes at the fire. His thought flashed and flared, making him frown and shiver. After a few minutes he began to straighten.

  Then he began to smile.

  The door opened and Jeffries reappeared, escorting a wide-eyed Lord Melton.

  Marcus stood and stepped around his desk to shake hands. “Melton! I’m glad we caught you.”

  Melton flushed. “Yes. Well. I didn’t—”

  “Come, sit! Have some port. And then, I want you to tell me your plan to recoup your fortune.”

  “I’m not sure you will approve. It will take some investment capital, but—”

  Marcus held up a hand. “Wait. Before you begin, do you mind accompanying me on some errands?”

  “Errands?” The young man blinked. “Why, ah…no. I suppose that would be fine—”

  “Excellent.” Marcus started to the door, then stopped and smiled at Melton. “I need to go to Rundell’s.”

  “The jewelers?”

  “The one and the same.” Marcus turned back to the door, opening it and stepping into the hallway, certain Melton followed close behind. “I only know one thing. Tomorrow night, at the ball I’m giving? The most beautiful woman in the world will be the lady in red.”

  Melton’s brow shot up, concern flickering in his gray eyes. “Miss Baker-Sneed will be wearing red? Isn’t that unusual for a woman just presented?”

  Oh ho! So that was the way that went, was it? Suddenly, Melton’s new demeanor made sense to Marcus. He slapped the man on the shoulder. “No, not Cassandra. My wife, Honoria.”

  Lord Melton blushed to the roots of his hair. “Oh! I see. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you—”

  But Marcus was already walking down the hallway, yelling for Jeffries to call Herberts to the front entrance. There was no time to waste.

  It was a solemn group that watched Honoria and Cassandra prepare for the ball.

  “I never before realized how small our sitting room is,” Portia said, looking about her with dissatisfaction from where she sat perched on the edge of Honoria’s bed.

  Olivia shook her head. “And the hallways, so dark and cramped. I can almost think I’m on a paltry fist-weighted schooner and not a house.”

  Juliet sighed, leaning against the bed railing. “I shall miss the food most of all. Antoine was a genius.”

  Cassandra was already ready, attired in a white gown with a blue sash, blue and green flowers nestled in her hair. She glanced uncertainly at Honoria. “Well I, for one, am glad we’re back here. As beautiful as Treymount House was, it wasn’t a home.”

  No, Honoria thought disconsolately, it hadn’t been a home. Not really. Oh, she’d thought that perhaps—Her throat closed and she could once again see Marcus, his face shuttered as she told him of her feelings. What a fool she’d been. What an incredibly stupid, utter fool.

  Well, she could not dwell on that. Not if she wanted to keep her wits about her and not ruin the ball for Cassandra. This was important for it was as much Cassandra’s launch as it was her own induction into polite society. An induction that was to be temporary, at best.

  She caught Cassandra’s sympathetic gaze and forced a smile. “I think I am ready to dress.” She turned to the bed and pulled back the layers of tissue that hid the gown.

  “Oh my!” Portia said, her eyes widening. “Honoria! It’s lovely!”

  “That’s the perfect color for you, too,” Cassandra said approvingly. “You have such lovely hair, and the red silk will make it seem darker.”

  Honoria held up the red gown and allowed Cassandra to help her put it on.

  “Oh Honoria!” breathed Olivia, her eyes shining. “You look lovely!”

  Honoria turned and looked at herself in the mirror. It was a far more daring gown than she’d ever worn, but the second Anna had seen it, she’d been determined that Honoria should have it.

  And now Honoria could not be sorry. The gown was made of deep red silk and was beaded from top to bottom so it clung and shimmered with every move. The neckline was lower than she usually wore, and it framed her shoulders and the gentle swell of her breasts.

  There was a knock on the door and Juliet went to answer it. Mrs. Kemble bustled in, coming to a halt when she saw Honoria. “Oh miss! I mean, my lady! You look lovely, you do.”

  “Thank you,” Honoria said, wishing she felt better in some way.

  Mrs. Kemble held out a large box. “This just came from his lordship. I didn’t know if I should—Well, I’ll just lay it on the bed for you.”

  Honoria didn’t even look at the box. But the second Mrs. Kemble left the room, Portia pounced on it. She opened it up and gasped. “Rubies! Honoria, look! Real rubies! A necklet and a bracelet!”

  Despite her desire to do otherwise, Honoria couldn’t help but look. The jewelry winked and blinked, beautiful beyond description.

  “And there’s a note!” Olivia said, holding it up. “Should I…?” She looked expectantly at Honoria.

  “I don’t care. Treymount can say nothing I wish to hear.”

  Olivia ripped it open. She read it silently, her lips moving, her eyes widening.

  “Oh for the love of—” Portia snatched the note. “Let me see!” She read it. “Oh!”

  “Well?” Juliet demanded. “Read it aloud!”

  “Oh. Right. It says, ‘My lady, I will not importune you with words you are not yet ready to hear, but know this, I will take it as an act of nothing but kindness if you would wear this small tribute to what is, I now know, the most beautiful woman in the world.’”

  “My goodness,” Cassandra said, her gaze softening. “That is very prettily worded.”

  Honoria turned away. “I am not going to wear his jewelry. I’ll send it back.”

  “Of course,” Juliet said staunchly. “You will give it all back.” She removed the necklace from the box and held it to her throat. “Or you could save it for one of us. You know, that would be the thrifty thing to do.”

  Olivia held her wrist to the light, the bracelet shimmering brightly. “Or you could just keep it as a sort of consolation gift. I’ve heard that men often give those to their mistresses when they tire of them.”

  Portia turned at that. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh le
ave Olivia alone.” Juliet suddenly frowned. “Where’s George?”

  “He’s supposed to be in bed,” Olivia offered.

  Honoria said, “Could one of you go and make certain of that? He’s being very quiet.”

  Portia handed the necklet to Cassandra. “I’ll go and see. But you cannot leave until I see Honoria wearing this.”

  “Of course,” Cassandra agreed as Portia left.

  Honoria eyed Cassandra for a long moment. “I will not wear that. Nothing could convince me otherwise.”

  “I know, but you need something with that gown, and we own nothing that is nearly grand enough. Just wear it this evening. You can return it tomorrow.”

  Honoria supposed she could at that. Besides, it was just one night. Her chest felt weighted, her legs heavy, as she realized that this was the last time she would be standing next to Marcus. The last time she’d feel his hand in the small of her back as he guided her into a room. The last time she’d see his smile or hear him laugh.

  Tears threatened and she had to blink rapidly to fight them off.

  All she had to do was get through this one evening. Just one. Surely she could do that.

  Sighing, she held out her wrist and let Cassandra gird her for battle, for that was what it was—battle. All she had to do was force her pride to battle the inclinations of her traitorous heart.

  The ball was a huge success. Carriages lined up for blocks, the huge ballroom was packed from wall to wall, the orchestra and refreshments were declared above the ordinary, and the host and hostess a shockingly handsome couple.

  Honoria had arrived just before the first guest. Marcus had been waiting, his dark gaze fastened on her with an intensity she hated. It was awkward and painful and a dozen other horrid things.

  But to her surprise, disappointment, and relief, he didn’t try to talk to her. Instead, his gaze lingered appreciatively over her and he said in a deep, quiet voice that she’d never looked lovelier.