Page 7 of Once Upon a Gilded Christmas (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #4)

Thirty years ago...

After Edward and Honora shared a fine meal of roast beef and more, they told each other fanciful stories, the wilder, the better.

"Perhaps we shall be wild pirates," Honora declared, rising from her chair, wielding a knife like a sword.

"We shall live as dread pirates upon the southern oceans.

" She shook her hair loose, now free from its enchanted pins.

"We shall drink rum from the shells of coconuts on the sandy beaches at midnight. "

Edward grinned, lifting the last of his tankard. "Hear, hear!"

"The warm tropical breezes will call to us. We shall run to our ship, and set sail to rob the Spanish of their golden doubloons."

Edward also rose. "And with that gold, perhaps we shall buy a second ship, one for you, one for me."

Honora hiccupped, and put a hand over her mouth. "Oh no," she declared. "That will never do. I could never be happy on a ship without you by my side." She grasped his free hand. "After all, that is why we ran away in the first place. If we are to part, we might as well stay here in England."

That took the wind out of his imaginary sails. "You are right. Perhaps it is best we do not run away."

Honora drained the last of her second tankard. "It is a lovely thought, though."

Edward nodded.

Out in the street, the bells of the local church chimed, longer than Honora expected. "Oh dear," she declared, dropping Edward's hand. "Is that really the time?"

"It is," he admitted with reluctance. He consulted his pocket watch. Only ten minutes too slow. He adjusted it to match the hour. "I suppose you must return."

The weight of her reality crushed down on Honora. One by one, she picked up her enchanted hairpins and did her best to restore her curls to some semblance of order. She scooped up the rest of her charms, slipping them into the pocket under her panniers, too dejected to redon them.

They parted by mutual consent, Honora's hand pressed against Edward's lips. "I cannot promise you we will see each other again," she said.

Edward held her hand tightly. "If our paths do cross again, I promise I shall only smile and make my bow as a mere acquaintance. But I cannot promise that every time I dip my spoon into a dish of syllabub, I shall not imagine that same spoon passing your lips."

Her breath hitched in her throat. "The only reason I do not kiss you now is because I want you to remember me as a woman of honour, who keeps her promises."

Edward's eyes glistened. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

With that she fled the room, back to the party, still in full chaotic swing.

To her surprise, no one had noticed her absence. Honora wasn't sure if that pleased her or not.

The memory of spending a delightful evening in the company of young Lord Edward Russell buoyed Honora Radcliffe through the rest of the week. It had been the best night of her life.

And now, for the rest of it: Honora had done as she agreed to her parents; she presented a pleasant front to Lord Charles. Between that and all the magical charms she wore like Success and Charm, the heir had no qualms over the marriage arranged by their parents.

Now she bore two rings on her fingers: a simple, unenchanted sapphire solitaire to mark her engagement on her left, and on her right, one her parents gave her to mark the occasion.

Honora studied the second ring on her finger.

It was an Acrostic ring, with four stones: a garnet, two opals and a diamond, arranged in a row so they spelled out G O O D.

Her mother had spent all year imbuing it with magic to convince Honora's future husband that he'd made a Correct Choice in aligning himself with this family.

"I hope you like it," her mother had said when she presented Honora with the ring. "I recommend you wear it for the rest of your life. It will prevent doubt."

Since then, Honora pondered on the significance of this ring. Did one need magic to keep the faith of a husband? Surely the wedding vows were sufficient?

When she was introduced to Lord Charles by their parents, she liked him well enough, sufficient not to object to an arranged marriage.

Until she met Edward. Even the mere thought of him made her heart pitter-patter in ways Lord Charles did not.

Surely that wasn't love, was it?

No, it had to be infatuation, the reaction of a grateful heart when he had rescued her from an evening of too much raucous laughter and too loud conversation, an evening where she'd applied too many charms and ended up with Lord Charles all but chewing her food for her, so accommodating had he been.

But it had worked—the magic, that is. Within a fortnight, the Earls of Derwent and Harwich worked out the marriage agreement for uniting their houses through Honora and Charles. They were all but married, barring the vows spoken before the vicar.

Yet all she could think about was Edward.

Christmas 1817

Lady Hammond's salon had been given over to games. So focused was Lady Hammond on engaging the young scions in games that she all but forgot their parents and guardians. The parents settled into chairs set along the walls while the young gathered in the middle.

Edward didn’t mind. After making the rounds of the others with greetings, he settled next to Honora. “Pass the Slipper,” he said. "Have you ever played it?"

She failed to oppress the smile on her face. "Can't say that I have. Lord Charles never took me to those kinds of parties."

"Shame. You strike me as someone who would quite enjoy such fun."

She sighed. "I suppose so."

Time to play. All the young settled onto the floor in a circle, their arms linked behind one another.

Lady Hammond's daughter Marian lifted the slipper from her mother's foot for the game.

She blushed most becomingly as she held the shoe, almost as if she was afraid to initiate the game.

Young Bertram held out his hand for it, and the game began.

Lady Marian turned around while the others passed the slipper behind their back, pausing only when Lady Marian's gaze swept by. Then they passed the shoe on.

Three rounds it took her before she guessed right, her soft voice almost inaudible against the joyous laughter of the crowd.

In the end, she's chose correctly. The young man who had the shoe admitted defeat, then rose to plant a kiss on Lady Marian's cheeks, making her blush even more. She hid her face until the others pulled her down to the circle.

It was the young man's turn next.

Edward leaned to Honora. "Did Lord Charles take you out at all during the Season?"

"Of course. He enjoyed theatre, dinners, that sort of thing."

"Ah. Plays? Concerts?"

"No. Dancers. The ballet, mostly. I preferred the opera. Better stories. More drama." She had to laugh. "I'd watch the drama on the stage, while he'd engage in the drama of politics with whoever had come to our box. I was much happier watching, than participating."

Out in the parlour, Lady Frances Shipbrook was It.

She stood in the middle of the room. For someone who appeared quite well-fed, she looked most elegant in that blue morning gown, setting off her red hair quite nicely.

At least her skin was fair without the freckles that often plagued those cursed with ginger hair.

Round and round she spun, as the slipper was passed behind backs.

When she was ready, Lady Frances cried “Stop!” This brought much giggling from the young seated on the floor.

“Some would think not getting the slipper would be the worst part of the game,” replied Edward.

Honora reached out, her pinky linking with his. “If one does not have the slipper, one must find other things to do with one’s hands.”

Lady Frances pointed to Jacob. He groaned and produced the slipper. Everyone cheered. Lady Frances bounced up and down, setting her ample bosom wobbling most alluringly.

“Now you must kiss her,” Lady Hammond declared. “Those are the rules.”

He rose and gave the young miss a peck on the cheek, much to the ribbing of his fellows.

Edward sighed. "Such a wasted opportunity."

Honora giggled. "I wonder who taught him to be so proper?"

"Me, I'm afraid." He sighed. "What kind of a fool would miss out giving a young lady a kiss?"

Honora turned her warm gaze to him. "An honourable one?" She slipped her hand fully into Edward's.

Lady Frances, to her credit, gave a comely blush before giving the slipper to Jacob and taking his spot on the floor. Lady Frances linked her arms with Kendall on her right and another young woman on her left.

Jacob gave the slipper to his brother and the passing recommenced.

Kendall passed the slipper behind his back in the other direction. As Jacob turned, the encircled crowd had to pass the slipper without him spotting it.

Much giggling ensued and a few fumbled hands. It was the perfect game for the sort of flirting one normally could not indulge in otherwise.

For the rest of the game, Edward was content holding hands with Honora. How long had it been since he’d been able to hold another person’s hand, just hold it, and enjoy their company? Such a simple pleasure.

Had he and Lady Russell ever held hands like this? He couldn’t remember. The many times she’d laid her gloved hand on his when he escorted her to a party or the theatre didn’t count, for as soon as they arrived, the ritual was no longer required and they parted hands.

Honora wore gloves, as did every lady present. It was socially expected, especially as December brought a chill to the parlour that the roaring fire at the other end of the room had not yet dispersed.

He loosened his grip on her fingers. She released him, her curious glance shot his way.

Edward kept his eyes forward, letting a teasing smile play his lips. He slipped finger under the top of her glove, to press against the bare skin of her palm.

Honora drew in a breath, then curled her fingers about his singular one, trapping it within her glove.

She pressed her lips and looked away, amusement in her eyes.