Page 10 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)
T ick. Tick. Tick.
The chaos of preparations for the ball buzzed in the background, but Honoria’s mind concentrated on the ticking of the clock.
Two hours until the ball.
Surprisingly, everything was ready. Yet Honoria still rushed through every room, making certain every little thing was in its place. She could not believe they were able to organize a ball in a week. A week!
She paused under the staircase, rearranging the flowers nervously. Everything needed to be perfect tonight.
“They’ve arrived!” Elise leaned over the banister, her voice bright with excitement. “Three dresses from Madame Deville have arrived. Would you come see them?”
Honoria dusted her hands on her apron and smiled. “Of course.” She glanced at her timepiece. “It’s just about time for my fifteen-minute break.”
“Perfect!” Elise disappeared from view, the tapping of her feet marking her retreat back into her room.
Honoria followed her, a peculiar weight settling in her chest. She would miss the camaraderie she had with Elise. She would miss not seeing her conquer the ton . She still hadn’t told the children that she would be leaving soon; the timing was never right.
She glanced at her timepiece again. Now wasn’t the right time either.
Perhaps after the ball. Once things settled down.
She entered Elise’s bedchamber, and the three new gowns of pale blue, light green, and blush pink were carefully laid out on the bed. Trish, Elise’s lady’s maid, sat by the bed, waiting patiently.
“Aren’t they magnificent?” Elise sighed, running her fingertips reverently over the delicate beading on the bodice of a blush pink gown. “Madame Deville has outdone herself.”
“They’re beautiful,” Honoria agreed, taking a seat in the window alcove. “You must try them on.”
Elise needed no further encouragement. She disappeared behind the dressing screen with her maid, and Honoria listened to the rustle of fabric and quiet instructions as the young woman was helped into the first gown.
Elise stepped out from behind the screen in a gown of celestial blue satin. The cut was exquisite, emphasizing her slender waist and graceful neck. With her golden hair and fair complexion, she looked like a painting come to life.
“You look radiant,” Honoria said softly. “That color is perfect on you.”
Elise beamed and twirled, the gown’s skirts flaring out around her. “I feel like I’m floating! Like I could dance all night in this.” She spun again, laughing with pure, unabashed joy.
Honoria watched her, thinking of the grand ballrooms where Elise would soon make her debut. She would be a sensation, of course. With her beauty, her natural charm, her wit, and her dowry, she would have suitors lining up to dance with her, and to court her.
Elise tried on the second gown, a light green that made her hazel eyes glow, then finally emerged in the soft pink day dress. She perched beside Honoria on the window seat. “I think I’d like to wear this one for our walk tomorrow. The other ones I will save for more formal occasions. Perhaps the blue one would fit well for the theater engagement next week.”
“An impeccable choice,” Honoria confirmed.
“I can’t wait to make my come-out.” Elise clasped her hands in front of her. “I wish I could do it tonight! I know Uncle Caldwell wants what’s best for me, but I am so impatient.” She clapped her hands nervously, then paused, a smile frozen on her face. “And I am also incredibly scared.”
“Of what?” Honoria peered into Elise’s vulnerable eyes.
“That no one will like me,” she said quietly. “That no one will court me. That I will be a complete disaster.”
“Impossible.” Honoria offered a reassuring smile.
But Elise lowered her eyes, her fingers tracing an invisible pattern on her skirt. “You don’t know that. I might be. I might make an embarrassment out of myself.”
Honoria licked her lips. “Didn’t you hear what Lady Somerville said the other day at the modiste? You shouldn’t rush into marriage your first Season. You should not worry about things like that.”
“How can I not? There are limited men on the marriage mart, and I should be so lucky as to marry one of them.”
“No,” Honoria emphasized firmly. “ They should be so lucky to marry you. And you should be more discerning.”
“Right, so I can end up alone?” She wrinkled her nose. “Apologies, I mean no offense. There is nothing wrong with being a spinster, I suppose. It’s just… I want a family of my own.”
Honoria’s heart squeezed. I do, too. She grimaced. “There are far worse fates than ending up alone.” She tried to select her words carefully. “I know of women… who hurried into a marriage for a variety of reasons and ended up with cruel husbands. They now regret it, and they can’t go back. Marriage is forever.” She let out a chuckle. “Unless, of course, you’re Lady Somerville. You have a good family here, a home. People who love you and enjoy your company. Don’t be in a rush to leave. Take your time getting to know a man before jumping into a betrothal. Better to marry later in life or not at all than marry the wrong person and be miserable your entire life.”
Elise seemed to consider her words before turning fully to face her. “But how will I know if the man is the wrong one or the right one?”
Honoria bit her lip. “Observe him. See how he treats his servants and other people below his station. If he is kind, polite, and generous, he might just be the right man. But of course, that’s not all. Discover his interests. If he spends most of his time at home attending to his hobbies rather than in gentlemen’s clubs and gaming hells, he is more likely to be a faithful husband. It is better to pick a calm, studious man who keeps to himself and prefers his books over rowdy company. Of course, it is important to pick a man who looks to the future and is interested in progress rather than one stuck in the past. Being stuck in the past is how half the ton lost their fortunes.”
Elise wrinkled her nose. “I think you just described Uncle Caldwell.”
Honoria let out a chuckle, her cheeks burning. “Well, he is a good man. You would not be wrong to look to your uncle and pick a husband similar to him.”
“Yet he’s still unmarried,” Elise pointed out with a shrug. “And now too old to marry, I wager.”
Honoria let out a laugh. “Don’t underestimate Lord Caldwell. He’s spent a lot of years hidden in his estate, but I am certain today’s ball will be filled with ladies vying for his attention.” A numb ache tightened her chest. “Even your fellow debutantes will be looking to him as the most desirable bachelor.”
“Ugh!” Elise made a face. “But he is very old. I suppose I could understand if you married him, but I certainly wouldn’t want to marry a man twice my age.”
Honoria pursed her lips. “Perhaps, a wise choice. And yo—” She faltered. “Did you just call me old?”
“Did I?” Elise fluttered her eyelashes in feigned innocence.
Honoria covered Elise’s hand with hers as they both chuckled. “You shall do great. I promise.”
Elise’s smile suddenly turned maudlin. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you.”
A pause.
“I am grateful for you, too.” Honoria patted Elise’s hand. Was now the perfect time to tell her?
“Elise—”
“Nory—”
They spoke at the same time and laughed again.
“Go ahead,” Honoria prompted.
Elise took a deep breath, as if preparing to confess something difficult. “My mother always talked about how magical her first Season was. She looked forward to teaching me the steps to every dance, helping me choose my first gown, and showing me how to navigate a conversation with a dull partner.” She laughed a little, but there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. “She used to say she would be my greatest ally and fiercest defender.”
“She would have been,” Honoria whispered.
“I know. I wish she were here to hold my hand during my debut, to see me get married someday. Knowing that she won’t hurts my heart. But having you…” Elise squeezed Honoria’s hand. “Having you feels like she made sure I wouldn’t be alone. Like she sent you to me to guide me through it all.”
Honoria felt her throat tighten painfully. The words she had prepared to say dissolved on her tongue.
“I know you’re the housekeeper, but that’s not how I see you,” Elise said with a shy smile. “I see you as a friend. A confidante. A guardian angel. You’ve taught me so much. You’ve helped me through some of the most difficult times in my life.” A tear slipped down Elise’s cheek. She wiped it away quickly. “I just wanted you to know how much it means that you’ll be there when I make my debut. That I won’t be alone.”
Honoria’s vision blurred. She reached up and tucked a golden strand of hair behind Elise’s ear.
“Listen to me, sweetheart,” she said softly. “I am so very proud of you. You are kind, responsible, clever, and talented. You don’t need to pretend to be anyone else. And you must never betray your principles for anyone.” She took a shaky breath. “I might not be standing right beside you at every moment, but I will always be on your side. Always.”
Elise leaned forward and threw her arms around Honoria, squeezing her tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered into Honoria’s shoulder.
Honoria held her close, breathing in the scent of lavender water, youth, and hope, and wondered how she would ever find the strength to say goodbye.
* * *
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Honoria glanced at her timepiece. Half past ten.
She spent the first few hours of the ball running back and forth, putting out fires, ensuring the refreshments table was always filled, the garden paths were lit, the decorations were not wilted, and everything was running smoothly.
While Lydia… Well, Lydia was flitting like a butterfly from one cluster of people to the next. Her mission was easy: enlist the help of a scandalous widow to distract Thorn with a tryst, steal his ring, and flutter away. Easy enough for Lydia. She had done similar missions dozens of times without a problem.
Yet this wasn’t just any mission. And in her heart of hearts, Honoria knew that it was doomed to fail.
Not because Lydia was a bad thief—she was excellent at what she did, the best in London. But because of who she was trying to steal from.
The only man Lydia had ever loved.
Still loved.
Always would.
Honoria felt pity for her friend. To be face to face with the man she pined over for years, while another woman was entertaining him…
Honoria’s gaze shifted to Lord Caldwell, all broad-shouldered and elegant in his black evening coat, surrounded by a group of affluent ladies and their unmarried daughters.
He was clean-shaven, and thus almost unrecognizable with the crisp cravat around his neck that he kept tugging at. Honoria allowed herself a small smile. He didn’t like tight things wrapped around his neck, or any place, really. That’s why he never wore any jewelry, not even a signet ring.
He would hate a wedding band, too, her traitorous mind whispered. Not that gentlemen were required to wear them.
Honoria watched as his aunt, Lady Somerville, led him from one young, beautiful girl to the next with the determination of a general marching her best soldier into battle.
And Caldwell played his part flawlessly. He bowed, smiled, and murmured the appropriate pleasantries. Smiled again.
Not his real smile.
Not the one she’d seen in quieter moments—in the garden teaching Elise about flowers, at the stream swimming with Robbie, or the nursery door watching Rosie fall asleep.
But a smile, nonetheless.
He was doing his duty. Looking for a wife. Exactly as Lady Somerville had planned.
And though Honoria’s jealousy twisted like a blade inside her, there was nothing she could do. There was nothing that needed to be done. Soon, she’d be gone, and Caldwell would marry some proper young lady who would take her rightful place as the Countess of Caldwell. And the children—
Caldwell offered his arm to a dark-haired lady Honoria didn’t recognize and led her onto the dance floor.
—the children would have their guardian’s wife to care for them.
Someone else to guide Elise through her adulthood and give her advice. Someone else to encourage Robbie to chase his dreams. Someone else to comfort Rosie after her nightmares.
It should be me, her heart insisted.
“Where did you want the chocolate fountain, miss?” A footman’s voice sounded by her shoulder, pulling her back into the real world.
“The table in the southeast corner,” Honoria said with a smile, reminded her of her real place.
She was just a servant. And soon, she wouldn’t even be that.
Honoria took a step back, hiding deeper in the shadows of a large fern. She took a deep breath. She needed to concentrate and not daydream about the life she would never have. She looked around just in time to spot Lydia making her way toward Honoria.
She didn’t look happy; in fact, she looked rather pale.
Honoria glanced at her timepiece.
Ten thirty-five.
That was fast.
Snagging a glass of wine from a passing footman, Lydia finally reached the fern and turned to face the crowd. “I didn’t get it.”
That’s what I thought. “How come?”
“Thorn refused a tryst.”
“That’s…” Good? Lucky? Honoria would not want to witness the man she loved during a tryst. Instead, she opted for, “ odd ?”
“He is betrothed,” Lydia breathed, her voice shaking.
“Betrothed?” Now that, Honoria didn’t expect. A notorious rake like Thornton—a man who promised to marry Lydia and then abandoned her in pursuit of carefree life—was betrothed? Something was wrong there.
Her voice must have come out too loud, because Lydia shushed her.
“I’m sorry.” Honoria returned to a low whisper. “I just don’t understand. Who is he betrothed to?”
Lydia shook her head, her words coming in a hiss. “I don’t know; he didn’t say.”
“Are you certain he wasn’t lying?” Honoria ventured.
“You mean am I certain that he refused a tryst with a delectable countess and a known lightskirt during a boring function and came up with a lie to do it? Yes, I am quite certain.” She started pacing in agitation. “And if he is refusing trysts because of his betrothal, it can only mean one thing.”
“What?” Honoria asked.
“It means that it’s a love match.” Her voice was hoarse, her words final. Honoria could see the anguish in her friend’s eyes. And she understood it. Her gaze drifted to Caldwell who was still dancing with the beautiful young lady.
She stepped out from the shadows and placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder. Lydia shrugged it off immediately. “You can’t be seen, Honor. Go back. And I need to—”
“Come. Let us talk in private.” The ball could go on without her for a few minutes. Right now her friend needed her.
Lydia shook her head. “I don’t want to talk. I need to devise a plan. I need to get the ring—”
“Tomorrow,” Honoria soothed. “You can worry about it tomorrow.” She took Lydia’s cold hand in hers and carefully led her away from the ballroom. “Tonight, you can mourn.”
She threw one last glance at the dancing earl before leaving the ballroom. And so can I.
* * *
Five hours later, Honoria entered her room, her feet buzzing with pain, her head aching, and her eyes falling shut despite her best efforts to keep them open.
She winced as she peeled off her dress, the fabric sticking to her sweaty body. The pitcher on her washstand still held water, though it had gone cold hours ago.
Honoria didn’t care. She dipped a cloth into it, ran the damp cloth over her flushed face, then continued to her neck and arms, washing away the day’s exertions. Having cleaned most of her body, she slipped a fresh nightdress over her head, the worn cotton soft against her freshly washed skin.
She filled the larger basin with the remaining water and lowered her aching feet into it, groaning aloud at the pleasant sensation. The coolness seeped into her swollen feet, numbing the burning sensation that had built throughout the day.
She glanced at the small clock on her nightstand. She’d have to rise again in three hours with a small group of maids to prepare for breakfast. Oh, how she wished she could sleep for a bit longer, at the same time wishing she had time to wash her hair.
Honoria yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
That strange contraption the earl called the shower-bath would have been very useful right now. It sounded like heaven right now to empty two buckets of water over her head while she stood there, soaping her skin and hair.
She imagined the sensation of water cascading down her body, washing away not just the sweat and grime, but the weariness that had settled into her bones. She wished she could sneak into the earl’s chamber and use it while he slept.
A chuckle left her at the ridiculous thought.
The soft knock at her door startled her. It was too late for any of the staff to seek her out unless there was some emergency. Honoria hastily pulled her feet from the basin, dried them on a nearby towel, and smoothed down her nightdress before opening the door.
Rosie stood in the dimly lit hallway, her small face pale, her feet bare, her arms hugging her midsection.
“I knocked on Uncle’s door, but he couldn’t hear me,” she whispered, her voice small and uncertain.
This wasn’t the first time Rosie had appeared at her door in the night. The girl often suffered from nightmares—nightmares that had plagued her since her parents’ deaths. Nightmares, that from what Honoria had gathered, were the direct result of her parents’ deaths.
After being awakened, Rosie always sought out Caldwell first, and Honoria second, to tuck her back into bed, to read to her, although Miss Sharp, the nanny, lived in the room adjoining the nursery.
“Would you read to me?” Rosie asked. “Just until I’m sleepy again?”
“Of course, my darling,” Honoria said softly. Her exhaustion temporarily forgotten, she took Rosie’s small hand in hers. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
They walked quietly down the hall and up the stairs into Rosie’s nursery. Her room was warm, and the fire was banked low for the night. Rosie climbed into her bed, which seemed to swallow her slight frame, and scooted to one side.
Honoria sat down, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight, and picked a book from her nightstand.
She started reading, the familiar words flowing easily, and as she read, she felt Rosie’s body gradually relax against her. Rosie’s breathing deepened, and by the time she reached the end of the story, she was fast asleep.
Honoria gently closed the book and set it on the bedside table. She carefully extricated herself from Rosie’s grip and pulled the covers up, tucking them around her shoulders. She stood for a moment, looking down at the peaceful face, then bent and pressed a kiss to Rosie’s forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.
Instead of returning directly to her room and the precious few hours of sleep that awaited her, Honoria remained by the bedside, watching Rosie sleep. Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of undisturbed slumber, her small hands curled loosely on the pillow beside her face.
Honoria wondered how she would ever be able to leave her behind, and more importantly, how she would be able to explain her sudden decision to leave.
She needed to tell them soon. The time was running out.
Tick. Tick. Tick.