Page 24 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)

T he following night, Honoria sat in her old, narrow room, having escaped the warm bed where Jacob slept peacefully, unaware of her absence.

She didn’t want to disturb him, so she restlessly haunted the corridors, somehow ending up back in her former room, finding comfort in its familiarity.

She couldn’t sleep again. It seemed to be her constant state these days. Her mind was racing, a plethora of conflicting thoughts warring with one another, each demanding her attention.

She tried to reconcile everything that had happened over the past few weeks—her affair with Jacob, her shift in the household from housekeeper to the earl’s mistress.

The word mistress left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. But that was who she was, was it not?

She wrapped her arms around herself, the chill of the night seeping through her thin nightgown, though the cold she felt came more from within than without.

It didn’t feel right, and she doubted it ever would. The secrecy, the hiding, the knowing glances from the servants—

“This isn’t who I am,” she whispered into the darkness. “This isn’t who I want to be.”

She wanted to stand beside Jacob, not cower behind his shadow. She wanted to be his wife, not a mistress secreted away whenever visitors came calling. She wanted to guide Elise through her season, not be afraid of being seen in public.

Instead, she would be hiding forever, never able to live the life she was meant to live.

And then there was Lady Bradshaw.

Honoria sank onto the edge of her bed, the memory of that bruised face haunting her.

She could save her. Hide her, like she had hidden herself. Dye her hair, forge a new identity for her, teach her to blend into obscurity. That life would be better than the one under Bradshaw’s roof, certainly.

And then what?

Bradshaw would take another wife—the thought struck her with sudden clarity.

Another life ruined.

“It never ends,” she murmured, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.

A knock came at the door—sharp and urgent—and then it opened unceremoniously.

Before Honoria fully turned toward the sound, Lydia burst in, winded and breathless, her cheeks flushed with exertion or excitement—perhaps both.

“Lydia!” Honoria exclaimed, immediately rushing toward her friend. She wanted so badly to embrace her—except she couldn’t, for the large, heavy book in Lydia’s arms.

“Honor, I am so happy to see you.” Lydia patted her arm.

“Please, sit.” Honoria guided her friend toward the narrow bed. “What happened? Where have you been all this time? Why haven’t you written?” Millions of questions tumbled out of her mouth, tripping over one another. “I’ve been so worried about you. I feared I might not see you any time soon.”

“I was with Thornton,” Lydia said, taking a seat and placing the enormous book on her lap. Her eyes sparkled with something Honoria hadn’t seen in them before—a fierce joy. Happiness. “We were going to marry in secret and leave the country, just like you and I had planned… Well, not the marriage part, you understand.” She let out a chuckle.

“Yes, yes, go on.” Honoria leaned forward, hanging on every word.

“But a lot of things have changed. So I’m back and planning to stay in London now.”

“But Miss Monroe—” Honoria began with a frown.

“Thornton has dealt with that particular issue,” she said. “It’s a long and entangled story, Honor, and I’ll tell you all about it later.” Lydia glanced anxiously at the small clock on the mantel. “But I need to leave before dawn breaks, and I need your help.”

“Of course. What do you need?” Honoria responded without hesitation.

“I need you to forge a few names here into the betting book.” Lydia opened the heavy tome, revealing pages filled with elegant script—wagers and predictions made by the ton’s elite. At the top of every page, it read: Hades’ Hell Property . She took out a couple of letters from her cloak pocket. “These are from the people whose names I need forged.”

Honoria took the letters, studying the handwriting carefully, then looked pointedly at the book. “Did you steal this from Miss Monroe?”

“No. She gave it to me.” Lydia laughed softly at Honoria’s expression of disbelief. “Again, long story. But I promise I’ll explain everything later.” She watched anxiously as Honoria examined the handwriting, then walked toward her small writing desk, lighting a candle and reaching for a quill and ink.

“At least tell me what this is all about,” Honoria said as she concentrated on scribbling the words onto a discarded sheet first, warming up her hand to the unfamiliar strokes and flourishes.

“It’s about fighting for my life back,” Lydia said, passion lacing her voice. “Remember how we were constantly hiding and running the past six years?”

“You longer,” Honoria murmured.

“Right.” Lydia nodded. “Well, I decided that that’s enough. I decided I won’t disappear into the shadows just because some man was cruel to me all those years ago. I will not let him define me. I’m not going to let him win.” She paused, her hands clenching into fists in her lap. “I’m going to marry Thornton, Honor. I’m going to be a marchioness by his side. I’m going to fight for my rightful place in this world.”

Honoria looked at her friend, the quill suspended midair. Lydia’s words spoke to her in a way nothing else had before.

Suddenly, everything clicked into place.

She no longer questioned her place in this world. She had been occupying it all along.

After days of floundering and second-guessing everything, she knew what she had to do.

“I’m going to fight, too,” Honoria said.

Lydia’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she asked, leaning forward.

A smile curved Honoria’s lips, slow and sure, as she slid the betting book toward her friend, the names successfully forged.

“I will explain later.”

* * *

“It’s madness.” Jacob paced the length of the study, a thunderous scowl on his face.

“I’ve thought it through. This is what I want.” Honoria’s voice remained steady, though her hands—clasped tightly at her middle—betrayed her inner turmoil.

“But why? Is this not enough?” He gestured vaguely around the study, the house. “Am I not enough?”

Honoria crossed to him in swift steps, her hands reaching for his forearms, gripping them firmly. “Of course, you are,” she whispered fiercely, her eyes searching his, willing him to understand. “You are everything. But it’s not about that. I deserve to reclaim my rightful space in society. I deserve to have my life back. I deserve to stand by your side on equal footing—not skulking in corners, pretending to be less than I am.”

“You are on equal footing with me.” Jacob’s hands covered hers, his thumbs stroking her knuckles.

“Not in the eyes of society.” Honoria’s smile was sad, bitter. “Not while I hide behind false names and borrowed identities.”

“And if you go through with your plan, you still won’t be that in the eyes of society.” Jacob pulled away, resuming his agitated pacing, like a caged lion. His voice rose in frustration, fingers raking through his hair. “You’ll still be ruined! Except now on display, paraded before the ton’s merciless judgment, their ridicule, their cruelty.”

She nodded, a single tear escaping to trace a path down her cheek before she brushed it away.

“I can’t hide my entire life, Jacob.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And I can’t let Bradshaw walk free, respected and untouchable, holding the power to ruin me once more. I can’t live in fear forever. He needs to pay. For me, for his current wife, for any woman who might fall into his clutches in the future.”

The fire in the grate popped and hissed in the silence that followed.

Jacob stared out the window for a long moment, his shoulders rigid with tension. When he finally turned back to her, his expression had changed into an impassive mask.

“Fine,” he said, his voice measured.

“Fine?” Honoria blinked in surprise, having expected further argument.

“Yes, fine. If your mind is made up, I will support you. I will be by your side every step of—”

“You can’t,” she interrupted, the words tasting like ashes in her mouth. This was the part she had dreaded most—the sacrifice that would cost her most dearly.

“What do you mean, I can’t?” Jacob froze, confusion marring his handsome face.

“You know what I mean. You said it yourself. I’m courting ruin.”

“So what?” He stepped closer, his voice rising with passion. “You don’t care about that, and somehow I should?” His hands reached for her shoulders, gripping them as if he could physically prevent her from slipping away from him.

“Yes, you should.” Honoria covered his hands with her own, then slowly, painfully removed them from her shoulders, holding them between them like a barrier. “For Elise’s sake, you have to. For Robbie and little Rosie. I won’t let you risk the children’s future. Their safety. Not for me.”

She took a step back, creating physical distance between them, unable to bear his closeness.

“And what am I supposed to do?” he asked quietly, his voice rising with each question. “Stand by and watch as the vultures pick you apart? Watch from a distance as that monster tries to destroy you again?” His fists clenched at his side, knuckles white with the force of his restraint.

“I will be fine.” Honoria straightened her shoulders. “I am stronger now—thanks to you. I know what to do and how to weather this storm, but you…” Her voice cracked. “You need to distance yourself from me. For a while.” The last words were barely audible.

“How long is ‘a while’?” His voice was hoarse, scraped raw with emotion.

They both knew the answer, though neither dared speak it aloud.

Years.

It would take years for them to reunite again.

There was a long silence as they stared into each other’s eyes, their communication silent but palpable. The tick of the clock on the mantel seemed to grow louder, each sound marking another second of their dwindling time together.

“We will still be able to meet in secret, right?” he asked finally, his voice trembling. His hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining.

She shook her head, tears burning at the back of her eyes, her throat constricting around words she didn’t want to speak. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s advisable, but we can…” Hope. She didn’t dare voice the word. “We’ll see how things progress.”

“The children…” Jacob trailed away.

“I will say my goodbyes to them, but you have to…” She drew a shuddering breath, forcing herself to finish. “You’ll have to explain this to them properly—over and over. They need to know that I love them.” The tears she had been fighting spilled over now.

“They will.” Jacob’s voice was hoarse. “Every day, if necessary, I’ll remind them of you.”

“And then once it’s over, we…” She licked her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. “I’ll be free to join you. Elise might be married by then and—” Her voice failed entirely, the enormity of the time they would lose overwhelming her carefully constructed composure.

With tears in his eyes, he reached for her; she reached for him. Their lips met with desperate hunger, a wordless communication of all they couldn’t say. Their hands wandered, memorizing the contours of each other’s bodies. Their clothes fell away piece by piece, their limbs tangled as they got lost in each other’s embrace one last time.