LITMIR.BIZ

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to find Grace within, standing on the new Aubusson rug, her arms folded tightly across her body. Light streamed in from windows opened to late afternoon sun, casting shadows across the silk-covered walls of Honor’s rooms and Grace’s face.

      But the shadows did not hide Grace’s ire. “Where have you been?” she demanded.

      “Out.”

      “Yes, yes, quite obviously you have been out. Hardy said you took the coach to Gunter’s.”

      “What of it?” Honor asked with a shrug.

      “I can’t imagine why you would venture out alone to Gunter’s, alone. One does not enjoy an ice alone. I can’t help but wonder if there was someone there waiting for you. Was there? Perhaps a certain unclaimed son of a duke who might have been taking his tea?”

      Honor blinked. “How could you possibly know that?” she exclaimed.

      “Mercy saw you speaking to a gentleman in the park, silly bird. She described him perfectly.”

      “It would seem those spectacles are improving her sight better than we’d hoped,” Honor drawled, and carelessly tossed her bonnet onto her bed.

      “Then you don’t deny it?”

      “No,” Honor said.

      “Lord in heaven!” Grace exclaimed to the papier-mȃché ropes and cherubs that adorned the ceiling. “You promised me!”

      “I know.”

      “Think of the scandal you invite!”

      “Grace! There is no scandal. I am sorry if—”

      “Spare me your apologies, please,” Grace said, and dropped dramatically onto the chaise longue before the hearth. “You never mean to do it, you are always sorry. When you suggested this ridiculous plan, I laughed. I was naive to think that even you wouldn’t go through with it, that even you wouldn’t risk so much for a lark.”

      Honor frowned, miffed that Grace knew her so well. “It’s not a lark, at least not to me. And really, Grace, you bear some responsibility, do you not?”

      “Me!”

      “Wasn’t it you who insisted that I accompany you and Mamma and the girls riding in Hyde Park? If I hadn’t seen Easton there, I should have carried on without giving the matter another thought.”

      Grace gaped at her. And then she burst out with wild laughter and fell back against the cushions of the chaise. “That is the most absurd reasoning I have ever heard!”

      Honor couldn’t disagree with that, either. “All right,” Honor acquiesced, sinking onto the end of the chaise next to Grace. “I will allow that I was a bit impetuous. But, Grace, the idea was so fresh on my mind, and there he was, escorting the Rivers twins, of all people. It occurred to me that if he would squire those two magpies, he would most certainly think Monica an improvement.”

      “Of course he would think Monica an improvement over those two, but that is hardly the point, is it? The point is that you went to meet the man quite alone, a man you scarcely know, and you proposed something absurd and reckless and full of ruin.”

      “That’s one view,” she said wearily. “If a woman is to make her way in this man’s world without a husband, she must risk quite a lot to succeed. It’s not as if I have a solicitor to call upon his solicitor. It’s not as if I can offer Monica money to find another suitor. I am a female, and as such, I have nothing available to me to change anything about my life but my hand in marriage. I find it altogether infuriating if I allow myself to dwell—”

      “Honor—”

      “Yes, well, to put your mind somewhat at ease, I met him in front of Gunter’s Tea Shop. No one saw me but Jonas. Easton stepped into the coach, and we talked.”

      Grace seemed genuinely distressed by that revelation, judging by how she buried her face in her hands. Honor tried to soothe her by stroking her hair. “I don’t see another option for us, dearest.”

      “You must have a care for your reputation, which, I might point out, has already been suspect on several occasions.” Grace lifted her head to arch a golden brow high above the other, daring Honor to challenge that.

      “I’ve not been that bad,” Honor muttered.

      “Can you imagine the talk that would gust like winter winds around this square if anyone were to see you?”

      “I am acutely aware.” Honor knew she was too impetuous for her own good. She had no desire to see her reputation ruined, and she understood Grace’s concern.

      “Never mind all that, then, you’ve gone and done it.” Grace suddenly twisted around to face her “Well? What did he say?”

      Honor smiled slyly at her sister. “He said that I was reprehensible.”

      Grace gasped.

      “But that he would consider it.”

      Her sister didn’t breathe for a moment. “What? He will?”

      “I will know on the morrow.” Honor stood up and began to unbutton her spencer. “If he agrees, he shall call here.”

      “Here! That’s all well and good for outsiders, but what will Augustine think?”

      “Grace, calm yourself. Augustine can think of nothing but his nuptials. I asked Mr. Easton to call at half past two, when the girls are in their studies and Augustine is out at his club for the day.”

      Grace looked set to argue, but the sound of a painful racking cough drifted down the hallway to them; they both paused. A moment later, they heard their mother’s steps hurrying in that direction.

      Grace sank back onto the chaise. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?” she asked morosely, referring to the deteriorating health of the earl.

      “I think so,” Honor agreed.

      “Your plan is utter madness, you know.”

      “That is the kindest thing you might say for it,” Honor said, and squeezed in next to her sister, nudging her with her shoulder. “But at least it’s diverting madness.”

      Grace smiled ruefully. “I fear you are far beyond hope.”

      “Not at all, dearest—I am absolutely bursting with hope,” Honor said. A movement caught Honor’s eye; she sat up and turned toward the door. Her mother was standing in the opening, staring into the room.

      “Mamma?” Honor said, coming to her feet. “Is something wrong?”

      Lady Beckington frowned slightly.

      “Mamma,” Honor said again, moving to her mother’s side. “Did you mean to see to the earl?”

      “Oh, Honor,” her mother said, her relief clearly evident. “You’re home! Yes, the earl is unwell. I should see to him,” she said, and squeezed Honor’s hand affectionately as she turned and hurried down the hall to the earl’s rooms.

      Honor looked back at Grace. “I don’t understand it. Not a quarter of an hour ago she was perfectly all right.”

      “We should have Dr. Cardigan come,” Grace suggested.

      “And risk the ton knowing before the earl is even gone? Dr. Cardigan sees every old biddy in Mayfair! We can’t, Grace. Not until we absolutely must.”

      It was heartbreaking to watch a beloved mother slide ever so softly into senility. Joan Devereaux, so charmingly clever—Honor could not think of a single person who had a poor opinion of her. She’d been amazingly resourceful, too—she’d known how to navigate a ballroom better than anyone, and had managed to keep her daughters well after her husband had died. Honor had been only eleven years old, but she could recall her mother taking two old gowns to a friend, and together, they’d created a stunning ball gown. Her mother had donned it and gone off

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