Honoria had fought her tears and won. Still, it was with a heavy heart and faltering step that she took her place at Marcus’s side and began the laborious duty of welcoming their guests.
Marcus, meanwhile, could hardly keep his eyes off Honoria. She looked beautiful—beyond beautiful. She was wearing such a gown—the red rich against her dark hair, the streak of white glowing like the rubies that sparkled against her white skin.
She was lush, breathtaking, and his. All his, dammit. And he’d do whatever it took to make her realize that. He was a man used to getting what he wanted, and this time, above all others, he was determined not to fail.
Honoria belonged to him, every glorious inch, and he’d be damned if he’d sit by and let her slip away. If his plan tonight failed, there would be another night. And if that did not work, he would try again and again. However many times it took.
In fact, if it took tonight and every night until he was old and gray, he’d make her face the truth—he did love her. More than he could say.
Still, it was torment being beside her and yet unable to hold her. He wished he could sweep her away to his bedchamber. Perhaps, soon enough, that’s where they’d be.
Until then, he tried to keep his thoughts on greeting their guests. But as they stood in the receiving line and welcomed guest after guest, each brush of her arm against his sleeve became a delicious agony.
Finally, he could stand it no more. He nodded to Jeffries, who fetched Anthony and Anna to come and take their place. Then Marcus took Honoria’s arm.
She stiffened. “Marcus—”
“Come. One dance.”
“No.”
“It’s expected, Honoria. People will talk if we don’t.”
She sighed. “Oh, very well! I suppose that since we are the hosts, we have to start the dancing.”
She allowed him to lead her through the throng. Marcus strode forward impatiently, ignoring the called greetings and other attempts to catch his gaze. Though he didn’t realize it, that caused even more attention to focus on their progress. He was a man with a purpose, his entire being focused on the woman at his side.
He led her to the center of the room and gestured to the orchestra. The talking quieted as everyone waited.
But no music came. The orchestra merely silenced, then sat waiting. Marcus took a steadying breath, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Now was the time.
“Why isn’t the orchestra playing?” Honoria whispered, plainly concerned.
“Because I asked them not to.”
Her hazel eyes widened. “Why?”
Marcus took her hand in his. “Honoria, I wish to speak to you.” He spoke clearly, his voice ringing across the ballroom.
Even more people looked their way.
Honoria began to tug on her hand, trying to free it from his grasp. “Please, Marcus, do not—”
He refused to loosen her. “No. I have something to say.”
“Marcus,” she said quietly, suddenly pale. “There is nothing left to say.”
“That is not true. And I believe, once you have heard me out, you will have a great deal to say in response.”
Her lashes trembled on her cheek. Marcus, aware that every person within hearing distance was openly listening to their exchange, was encouraged that she did not refuse to listen to him. Had she done so, he could not have blamed her.
He looked at Honoria standing before him, a vision in red silk and rubies, proud, defiant, her own woman in her own right…things that had once irritated him and now fascinated him to no end. “Honoria, I came to tell you that I have thought of what you said to me.”
Color touched her cheeks. “Marcus, I—”
“No. Just listen. Please. I didn’t answer you because I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t certain—but I am now.”
There was a moment of surprised silence, not just from Honoria, but from every person surrounding them. Marcus knew that word of this conversation would be all over town tomorrow. His and Honoria’s name would be spoken by every gossipmonger there was. At one time he would have decried such a public display. But not now. Now all he cared about was that Honoria should come home. That she would be his wife, but in more than name. In heart, as well.
He took her hand, unresisting and cold, and held it between his. “This is not easy for me to say. I have been a man alone for many years. And in that time, I made some decisions which I now realize were incorrect. I didn’t think I needed anyone in my life. I thought happiness came from success in business and that caring for another over and beyond a genteel, distant sort of love would make me less successful somehow. In a word, I was the worst kind of fool because I was wrong. Wrong, and I didn’t know it.”
Her gaze lifted to his, her eyes wide. “Marcus?”
He pulled her close and looked into her eyes, his heart curiously thick in his chest, as if aching for air. But he was breathing, the sound loud against the growing silence from around them. This was it; the moment of truth. The moment for him to make himself heard—make her understand—all the things he’d only just discovered.
Marcus opened his mouth, praying that the words might find their way out. “Honoria, you have to—”
“She doesn’t have to do anything,” came a soft but determined voice. Cassandra, dressed in the innocent white of a debutante, planted herself in front of her sister. “Honoria does not wish to speak to you.”
Honoria murmured something to Cassandra, who turned and whispered loudly over her shoulder, “No, you don’t have to speak to him if you don’t wish!” Cassandra turned back to Marcus, a surprisingly pugnacious tilt to her chin. “She doesn’t need you. We will get along just fine without you.”
Marcus raked a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words, the meaning of his feelings. It was like swimming through Yorkshire pudding, his mind and soul both fighting for expression. His gaze found Honoria’s from where she stood just behind her sister. “I was wrong, Cassandra. I love your sister. She is the other half of me and I will not rest until she knows it.”
Cassandra shook her head. “You shall not have the opportunity to hurt Honoria again. Honoria, come—”
“Miss Baker-Sneed?” Lord Melton, handsome and blond, cast an apologetic glance at Marcus, then bowed to Cassandra. “I beg your pardon, but I believe this is our dance.”
“There is no music.”
Melton held out his arm and she automatically rested her fingers on it. “Until the music begins, we can talk about my new project. The marquis has agreed to sponsor my horse breeding scheme.”
Honoria’s gaze flew to Marcus. “You did?”
Marcus smiled at her. “Melton and I agreed to the terms last night. If things go well, he will have his debt settled in less than three years.” Marcus eyed Cassandra’s hand where it rested on Melton’s arm. “Perhaps then he will be able to take on other, more important responsibilities.”
Melton bowed, a smile flickering over his face. “Yes, my lord.” He glanced down at Cassandra, a glow of emotion in his eyes. “I look forward to fulfilling all of my responsibilities, whatever they may be.”
Cassandra blushed, though she did not move from Melton’s side. She cast a hesitant glance at her sister. “Honoria, do you want me to stay and—”
“Lady Treymount is well able to take care of herself.” Lord Melton tucked her hand more firmly in the crook of his arm, attaching Cassandra to his side. “Leave your sister and her husband to their own affairs.” He glanced over Cassandra’s head to meet Marcus’s gaze. “And perhaps they’ll leave others to theirs.”
Marcus had to smile a little at that. The lad had bottom, he did, and enough grit to win back his fortune. “Lord Melton, we will speak about this later this evening. Over port, I hope.”
Melton flushed, a sparkle lighting his gaze. “I shall look forward to it. Cassandra, let us visit the refreshment table while the orchestra rests.”
“But Honoria—”
“Is fine,” Marcus said.
/> Cassandra reached out with her free hand and laced her fingers with Honoria’s. “Are you certain?”
Honoria squeezed her sister’s hand. “Yes.”
“Very well.” With that, Cassandra released Honoria’s hand and allowed Melton to lead her away.
Marcus turned back to his wife. “I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?”
“Yes.” He nodded to Jeffries, who stood hovering behind Honoria. The butler stepped forward and lifted a silver salver. There, in the center, sat a ruby tiara, a match to the jewelry Honoria was already wearing.
Her lips parted. “Oh my!”
He took the tiara and gently placed it on her head, where it gleamed warmly in her rich brown hair. “You once told me you weren’t the type of woman to wear tiaras. I beg to differ. You deserve tiaras and rubies and everything else life has to offer.”
“Marcus, I don’t know what to say. I can’t just—” She bit her lip, her gaze suddenly searching his. “Marcus, why are you doing this? Why?”
“Because I want you and the whole world to hear what I have to say. You said you would not believe any protestations of affection because it would only be spoken out of duty. I am not speaking out of duty.”
“Marcus, please. I—I understand. You cannot help the way you feel.”
“But I do feel,” Marcus said shortly. “And strongly, too. When you said that you loved me, I wasn’t ready to hear it. But now I know. Now I’m ready.”
The room around them faded, and all Marcus saw or heard was his wife, his beloved Honoria, who infuriated him, tortured him with her busy schemes and grand plans, who upturned his life with her busy brother and sisters, and in general made life worth living. She stood before him, resplendent in red silk, adorable in shoes that must pinch, and so beautiful that his heart ached as if pierced by an arrow.
He loved her. He loved her with his body and soul and he could not imagine life without her. The memory of his own house, cold and silent and waiting for him like a great empty shell, sent a frozen shiver through him and finally—finally—unlocked his lips.
He reached down, took his wife’s hand in his and pulled her to him. She came, unresisting, a question in her eyes—and a hint of such sadness that tears blurred his own vision for an instant. “Honoria, I was wrong about so many things. I now know how much you mean to me. How much life and laughter your sisters and brother brought to Treymount House. I want you back. I want all of you back.”
Tears filled her eyes even more. “Why?”
“Because I cannot live without you. I was just too blind to realize it.” He was using every thought he possessed to try and make her understand. But he could see from the hurt that still lingered in her eyes that he hadn’t yet convinced her. He held her tighter. “Honoria, I want to be married to no one but you.”
“No,” she said with a gulp. “I don’t believe that. And I never will.” She shook her head and stepped out of his arms. “Marcus, it is too late.”
Distressed by her tears, he let her go. “Honoria, please listen—”
“No. I can’t—no more, Marcus. Just let it be. You don’t love me.” With that, she turned and walked away.
Marcus’s heart sank. He almost staggered to the floor with the weight of his disappointment. She didn’t believe him. Perhaps she never would.
A hand touched his sleeve. He looked down to see Cassandra. “Treymount,” she said with some spirit. “What are you doing? Go and get her!”
“She doesn’t want me.” Marcus’s voice seemed removed, as if it belonged to another person. He hurt so badly that he could feel nothing—not his booted feet firmly set on the floor, not the scratch of his cravat at his chin, not the beating of his own heart. “I love her but it is not enough. I…I have killed her feelings for me.”
“Oh for the love of—Are all men so sap headed? She didn’t say she didn’t love you. She said you don’t love her. Don’t just stand there. Prove her wrong!”
The words tumbled over Marcus. Was it possible…He could just make out her proud head, crowned with the ruby tiara and that damnably erotic streak of white, as she swept toward the door. Cassandra was right. He could not allow Honoria to just walk away.
Honoria was clenching her teeth to keep from crying. All around her, curious eyes followed her as she pushed toward the door. At one point a robust lady tried to stop her flight, but Honoria merely brushed on past, fighting to keep the tears at bay. She’d thought he would say it, the words she’d been longing to hear—but he hadn’t. He’d spoken of missing her family, of missing the laughter and the companionship, but he’d never said he loved her.
Honoria wondered if a heart could literally break, for the pain in her chest was so acute. She managed to make her way clear of the crowd and back into the foyer. To her chagrin, Anna and Anthony were still there, greeting the latecomers. Honoria hurriedly asked one of the footmen to send for Herberts and the carriage.
Anna broke free from the line of guests and came to Honoria’s side. Elegant in blue silk, she smiled questioningly at her. “Honoria! Are you leaving already?”
“Yes. I—I must.” Or she would melt into a puddle of regret.
Anna’s gray eyes darkened. “It’s Marcus, isn’t it? He’s making a mull of it. He’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met and—Well, you know what he is.”
“He’s the most stubborn, foolish, idiotic man I’ve ever met.”
Anna’s worried expression vanished behind a grin. “Exactly. He’s also a very intelligent, very capable man, who cares far more than he shows. He’s always been that way.”
Honoria blinked back tears. “Thank you. But…I have to leave.”
Anna’s gaze flickered over Honoria’s head to the ballroom and then back. “Very well.” To Honoria’s relief, Anna stepped quietly out of the way. Honoria gave her a grateful smile and then made her way outside.
Some people were still entering, but they paid her no heed, standing to one side. She was relieved to see Herberts pulling up.
He hopped down and opened the door. “Here ye are, missus. Where to?”
She opened her mouth to say “Home” but could not make the words. This was home. And then, just as she lost the battle with her tears and one slipped over her lashes and onto her cheek, Marcus was there.
He caught her arms and turned her to face him. “You didn’t give me time to finish. You must listen to me. You must!”
“Cooee!” Herberts said, his brows shooting up his forehead. “Ye’d best hear him out, m’lady! Oiye’ve never seen him in such a lather.”
“Yes, you should listen to me,” Marcus said, his voice deep with meaning. “I love you, Honoria Baker-Sneed St. John. And like a fool, I did not realize it until you had left me.”
“You love me.” She tasted the words, afraid to believe them.
He nodded once. “You are the most honest, the most genuine woman I have ever met. But I didn’t wish to be in love and so I tried to convince myself that it was simply lust.”
“Some of it is.”
“As it should be. But what I feel for you is much stronger than lust. Once you left me, I missed you so badly that I could not breathe. It was as if Treymount House had shrunken in size and there was no room in it for anything or anyone, especially me.”
“There is enough room in Treymount for a thousand marquises.”
He captured her hand and placed a fervent kiss on it, right where the talisman ring rested. “Not without love. Not without you. Honoria, know this: if you do not believe me now, I will understand. But I am not giving up and I will not go away. I will woo you back, prove to you that I love you with every ounce of my being.”
“Woo me?” A faint hint of a smile touched her mouth. “With flowers and gifts?”
“I will shower you with rubies and diamonds. I will flood your house with flowers and fans. I will be on your doorstep day and night, and I do not care what anyone says or thinks of it.”
“Lor’ love ye, miss!?
?? Herberts added, looking impressed. “If ye won’t have him, oiye will.”
“Herberts, please,” Marcus said. “Go to the front of the carriage.”
The groom sniffed. “Oiye was jus’ helpin’.”
“I don’t need your help. Now go.”
“Very well, though ye’re makin’ a mistake. Oiye could help ye, oiye could.”
“Go.”
“Very well! No need to get naffy on me.” Herberts turned his back on the two and slowly walked to the front of the carriage.
Honoria had to stifle a laugh as Marcus looked down at her. His arms tightened about her and he said in a deep voice, “I love you, Honoria. And I will not rest until you are back where you belong; here, with me, at Treymount House.”
Happiness so bright that it sent a shiver all the way to her toes rippled through her. “You don’t need to go to such lengths as showering me with rubies, although…they are nice.”
“Honoria, I must have you back. I know I have made a mull of things. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t feel for me as you once did—”
She placed her fingers over his lips. “I love you, Marcus. I always have. And right now, I just want to be with you.”
His eyes blazed. And then, with a shout of triumph, he grabbed her to him and held her tight. Honoria threw her arms about his neck and held tight as well, her feet off the ground, Marcus’s strong arms holding her aloft. She loved him. And he loved her. Happiness surrounded her.
A loud, wet sniff interrupted the moment.
Honoria opened her eyes to find Herberts standing on the walk, wiping his face with a none too clean handkerchief. “That was beeooteeful, guv’nor. Blimee if it wasn’t.”
Marcus didn’t lift his cheek from where it was comfortably resting against Honoria’s. “Herberts, didn’t I ask you to wait at the front of the carriage?”
“Indeed ye did, guv’nor. And oiye was goin’ to go, but then oiye thought that per’aps ye moight need me to back up yer version o’ how miserable ye’ve been without her ladyship about.” The coachman leaned an arm against the carriage and said in an undertone to Honoria, “He’s been a bear, mistress. Ugly to everyone and actin’ as if he thought the world was comin’ to an end. There was no pleasin’ him.”