Page 12 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)
T he cold hit first. Sharp, paralyzing, like knives along her skin. Then the crushing weight of water pressed her down. She tried to scream, only for it to fill her mouth, her nose, her ears.
Panic clawed at her chest.
Honoria tried to rise, to kick toward the surface. Her fingers found the edge of the tin bath, and then she slipped.
Something held her down.
No. Not something. Someone.
Fingers coiled around her throat—strong, bruising. Suffocating. She struggled, twisted, thrashed in vain.
Through the distorted water, she saw him.
Bradshaw.
His face loomed over her, a grotesque mask of satisfaction.
She couldn’t fight him. Her limbs refused to obey her will. Her lungs filled with water. She blinked… and darkness swallowed her whole.
Did she drown?
No. Something warm grabbed her wrist and pulled.
She broke through the surface with a gasp, coughing and sobbing, limbs flailing as she was dragged from the water and into strong, warm arms.
She opened her eyes and met familiar brown ones.
Caldwell.
“Did you think you could run from me?” he asked, his face dark and menacing.
“What?” Honoria wanted to ask, but her voice refused to come out.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A sound cracked through the air like thunder.
Honoria jolted awake, heart hammering, skin clammy with cold sweat. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
It was just a dream.
She shuddered.
Wasn’t it?
Honoria sat up and rubbed her eyes, glancing at the window at the dark sky with only a hint of sunrise.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Ah, a knock at the door had woken her up. Only one person dared to come to her room so early in the morning, and that person didn’t even live in this house.
Lydia.
“Enter,” Honoria called, her voice hoarse, and the door immediately opened.
Lydia silently slipped into her room, a wide smile on her face. “Good morning. Your knocker-upper is here,” she whispered, setting a muslin-wrapped bundle on Honoria’s small writing desk.
Honoria couldn’t help but smile, and the remnants of the horrifying dream dissolved into thin air. She pushed herself up, picked up her shawl from the chair by her bed, and wrapped it around her shoulders against the morning chill. “What is this?”
“For the masquerade,” Lydia said, a hint of excitement glinting in her golden-brown eyes. “Are you ready for our departure?”
Honoria’s stomach knotted at the question. “I have nothing to prepare.”
“Good. Good.”
They spoke in hushed tones for several minutes, finalizing their plan to retrieve the jewel from Lydia’s beloved viscount during the masquerade ball. Lydia’s plan was to approach him in her mask, brazenly flirt, perhaps even dance with him, taking every opportunity to brush her fingers against his neck as she worked to unfasten the chain and steal the jewel that hung from it.
Afterward, they would give the jewel to Melissande Monroe, collect their money, and flee together to the Continent, where Bradshaw could never find them.
It was a desperate gambit, but Lydia’s determination was almost contagious. Almost .
An anxious knot still twisted in Honoria’s stomach.
“Are you certain of this course?” Honoria asked, searching her friend’s face. Coming face to face with her former beloved, the man who had abandoned her to her fate, could not be easy.
Lydia’s jaw set firmly. “It’s our best option. Remember, high risk, high reward.” She squeezed Honoria’s hand. “I must go.”
After Lydia departed, Honoria immediately approached the bundle Lydia had left on her desk. She unwrapped it, finding a gown of crimson silk within. She lifted it carefully, her breath catching at its beauty. The bodice was intricately embroidered with gold thread, the skirts fuller than any she had worn since her days as a debutante. More beautiful, in truth, than any gown she had ever possessed.
She held it against herself, letting the fabric cascade to the floor. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine sweeping into a ballroom, heads turning to follow her passage. Would Caldwell look at her differently if he saw her thus? Would he recognize the woman who hid beneath the role of a housekeeper?
Foolish thoughts. In a week, she would be gone from here forever.
Yet she hadn’t even informed the children she would be leaving. It was time. She had put it off too long already.
With a deep breath, Honoria carefully hung the gown inside her tiny wardrobe, then went to take care of the business for the day.
Come afternoon, she went to look for Elise, to finally have the conversation she’d long avoided.
The sound of the piano led her to the music room where Elise was rehearsing a new melody. It was beautiful, haunting even. Honoria had not heard the piece before. It was frantic and turbulent. As if someone was spiraling out of control.
She stood in the doorway, mesmerized by the music, listening to the sounds drifting around her. She was proud of the girl Elise had become, proud of her talent and grace.
Plonk . Elise stumbled over the keys and cursed under her breath.
Honoria let out a chuckle. Perhaps the grace part still needed a bit more work.
Elise raised her head and grinned. “To be fair, this is only the third time I am playing this piece.”
“Truly?” Honoria stepped into the room. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”
“It’s a new piece by Schubert,” Elise said with a mischievous spark in her eyes. “ Gretchen am Spinnrade. Uncle says it has only been published this year. One of his friends brought the music sheet from Vienna and was kind enough to share it. Come, listen!”
Elise eagerly turned back to the keys, and Honoria joined her on the bench, allowing herself to be swept away by the music—even as her heart ached, knowing this might be one of the last times she’d hear Elise play like this.
When had the frightened, lost little girl grown into this confident young woman? Honoria would miss seeing her grow further. She would become fierce, no doubt. A force to be reckoned with.
As the final notes faded, Honoria found herself blinking back tears.
“That was beautiful, Elise,” she said softly.
Elise beamed with pride. “Thank you. I’ve been practicing for hours. I can’t wait to perform at musicals next year. Although, I have to admit to my stomach clenching at the very thought.”
“That’s natural. But as soon as you start playing, I am certain all the nervousness will go away.”
“Or I will faint.” Elise let out a chuckle. “Perhaps you should carry smelling salts before every performance, just in case.”
Honoria stifled a grimace. She would not be there at all. She turned to face Elise fully, her mouth suddenly dry. She licked her lips nervously and began, “I have to…” She cleared her throat, the words sticking like burrs. “I will be leaving the household soon.”
Elise’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Leaving? Where? For how long?”
Honoria swallowed against the growing lump in her throat. “For good. I have to leave for good.”
Elise let out a nervous chuckle. “For good? I don’t think I understand.”
Honoria cleared her throat and tried again. “Elise, in a week, I will have to leave England.”
“What?” Elise’s expression clouded, her hands clutching at her skirt. “Why?”
Honoria couldn’t lie to her or make up things about an imaginary grandmother. So she told the truth, as much as she could. “It’s a personal matter…”
“Personal?” Elise scoffed, her voice hardening. “As in none of my business?”
“It’s not like that,” Honoria pleaded.
Elise stood sharply, the piano bench scraping against the floor. “Then how is it? You sit me down and tell me you are abandoning me and my siblings, and you don’t have the decency to tell me the reason?”
“I would if I could, I swear.” Honoria reached for her, but Elise stepped back, and her hand fell uselessly to her side. “You are ready for your debut, Elise. You have Mrs. Winters to guide you further. Rosie has Mrs. Sharp. Robbie will be going to Eton in a year or two. None of you have a need for me anymore. I think it’s the perfect time for me to—”
“To what? Leave us behind?” Elise’s voice cracked with emotion. She paced away to the window, watching the scene outside with a glassy look. Then she turned sharply, her eyes burning with outrage. “How can you say that I don’t need you when I have bared my soul, my fears to you? You know more than anyone how important it was for me to have you by my side.”
“Elise—”
“I thought that you cared,” Elise spat. “What a fool I’ve been.”
“I do care,” Honoria whispered.
“Have you told Robbie and Rosie?” Elise asked, arms wrapping protectively around her waist.
“No, I am going to right now.”
“And Uncle Caldwell?” The name came with a sharp edge that made Honoria glance up.
“Yes, I’ve told him already.”
Elise frowned, her eyes narrowing. “Is it because of him?”
“Pardon?” Honoria’s heart faltered.
“Did he say something or do something to make you leave?”
“No, of course not. Why would you say that?”
Elise looked away, her voice barely audible. “I thought you cared for him.” Then louder, “But I guess we were just a job.”
The words hit her like a slap. “I care about all of you. More than you know,” Honoria said, her voice thick with suppressed emotion.
“Not enough to tell me the truth as to why you’re leaving. Not enough to stay.” Elise’s shoulders trembled slightly. “I thought of you as my friend. As the closest thing I had to a mother.”
A long pause.
“I know.” Honoria hung her head. Elise was right. She had every right to be upset, angry even. So she didn’t argue. She wished she could tell her the truth, but it would be too difficult to explain. It was easier to flee, to escape, to hide.
Without another word, Elise turned and stormed out of the room, taking the joy, music, and laughter with her. Leaving Honoria alone in the deafening silence.
* * *
The confrontation with Elise took the wind, life, and will out of Honoria. She could not speak to Rosie and Robbie feeling like this.
Feeling an overwhelming need to escape and to cool the burning of her face, Honoria slipped out into the garden.
Breathe. Just breathe.
She walked along the gravel path, trying to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. If she stayed and was exposed, she would be ruining Elise and her chances at an advantageous marriage, surely.
She could just tell the truth…
No. She could not bear the thought of it. The shame. The horror.
And Lydia.
She was trying so hard to get Honoria out of the country. Honoria would be letting her down, too.
Part of her wished she had never been hired in the Caldwell household. Too many attachments and emotions surrounded this place. But another part of her, a bigger, more powerful part of her, would not trade this family for her life.
She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress.
Her fingers met cool leather. Honoria tightened her grip and drew out the earl’s gloves—the ones he had given her on the night of the theater. She had carried them ever since. Just for a moment like this, she had told herself. Not for any sentimental reason.
Honoria slipped them on, their warmth enveloping her cold fingers like an embrace.
The crunch of footsteps sounded behind her. She knew who it was without turning. Something in her had become attuned to his presence.
“Hart.” Lord Caldwell’s deep voice was loud in the stillness of the garden. “Seeking out the cold again? Are you still feeling unwell?”
Honoria turned, grateful for the darkness that hid the evidence of her distress. “I am quite recovered, my lord. Thank you for your concern.”
He moved closer, his tall figure outlined against the light spilling from the house windows. “You look pale.”
A small, humorless laugh escaped her. “I have just told Elise I shall be leaving soon. It was… difficult.”
“I imagine so.” He stood beside her now, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. “She has grown quite attached to you. They all have.”
Honoria nodded. And I to them .
“Let me know when your departure is set,” he continued after a moment. “I shall prepare the carriage for you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said quickly. “I’ve already made arrangements.”
He turned to face her fully, his expression hidden in shadow. “So you know the precise date of your departure?”
“Not the exact date, no.” The lie sat bitter on her tongue. She did know—the night of the masquerade, exactly one week from tomorrow. But if their mission failed, if they were caught, or if Lydia changed her mind…
No, better not to be specific.
The silence stretched between them, filled with unasked questions. Finally, desperate to fill it, Honoria asked, “Have you submitted an advertisement for my position yet? I can do it if you wish.”
“No.” He gave a slight shrug. “Mrs. Clarke can oversee the household. Whenever she decides to retire, I may promote from within.”
“Oh.” It seemed she wouldn’t be missed after all. Maybe she hadn’t been needed in the first place.
Another pause.
“Would you…?” She faltered. “Would you mind being present when I tell Rosie and Robbie? I don’t want them to feel alone.”
He frowned, considering. Then he nodded. “Of course. Would you like to do it now?”
She clasped her hands nervously. “Yes. Thank you.”
Caldwell’s gaze fell to his gloves enveloping her hands.
She hastily began pulling them off. “These are yours. Thank you for—”
He stepped back. “No. Keep them. Something to remember me by…” A pause. “To keep you warm at night.”