Page 9 of Once Upon a Gilded Christmas (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #4)

“Desperation,” Honora said. If her wedding, marriage and subsequent widowhood taught her anything, it was that shame was a useless emotion.

It arose from actions of the past, had no remedy for one could not undo past mistakes, and only served to deepen itself unless completely discarded.

As soon as she had received Lady Hammond's invitation, Honora had given it much thought before accepting it.

"I was not going to ask," Edward said.

Oh dear. Had she made it awkward for him. She reached out and patted his hand. "Don't feel bad for me. I know what I'm doing."

As Lady Hammond had honoured her request to seat her next to Edward, she also honoured her request NOT to seat Juliana next to either of Edward's sons, much to her relief.

Lady Hammond had skilfully scattered the young in a most artful manner. Juliana didn’t seem to mind. She’d been seated next to Bernard Ashburton and seemed most willing to chat with him. Good. It pleased Honora to see her daughter taking advantage of the situation.

“As you know, I was widowed last year. When my son, the current Earl unearthed the family finances, they were not as, ah, robust as we had thought.” She put up a hand.

“Oh, we are not as ruined as we could have been but it took some time for him to set things right.” She sighed.

It felt so good to share this story with someone who cared, who wouldn’t judge or ridicule.

“In the end, we had enough to launch Juliana for a Season and hope she could marry into a good family.” She nudged at the fish on her plate with her fork.

“I hope our status is sufficient to the challenge. Any gold diggers will be sadly disappointed to learn her dowry is not extravagant.”

Edward tilted his head. “And you? What is your fate?”

Honora sighed. “At first, I was expecting a quiet life at the dower house. Alas, we have no dower house, as certain properties were sold to bring our fortunes right. My son Lord Brook should not be expected to provide a separate residence for just me, and my own personal wealth does not extend to a sufficient address. Either I take a step down and live on my own with maybe a couple of servants, or I take a lesser room in Lord Brook’s house.

I cannot do that to Ernestine, his wife. I cannot do that to me.”

Edward shook his head. “Why not?”

She fixed him with a firm gaze. “It is far more difficult to relinquish being mistress of a house to someone much younger than oneself. Oh, I’m sure Ernestine will be fine for she comes from good family, but I find it ever so hard not to speak up while she is finding her way. I should leave, but where do I go?”

Just as Edward was about to lay his hand on hers, she laughed.

It startled him, but she grabbed his hand anyway. “My current fortune is the same as it was when it was my dowry. My son has been more than happy to ensure that. He’s a good boy, is my Brook.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from Lord Charles’ son—and yours,” he added.

He went back to his original topic. “Desperation, you said. Surely on your part, and not Juliana’s?”

She did not relinquish his hand, but waved her other one.

“Oh, on her part too, I suppose. Her father’s death delayed her Debut, which ended up for the best. I would have hated to launch her on the market with high hopes and promises of beauty and wealth only to have it come crashing down before June. ”

Edward blinked. “Why? What happened in June?”

“Nothing happened in June. But it could have. Instead, Lord Charles died in September last year, though really, one could have died at any time. We did the full year of mourning, and probably should have given over to another half-year of half-mourning, but…” she trailed off.

He gave her hand an extra squeeze, which she welcomed. “I do not see the purpose of all this show of grief. I mean, yes, I missed him, but after a month or so, I got over it. It’s not like he left this hole in my heart.” She gazed up at him. “Not like you did.”

His breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

She offered him a smile. “Of course you didn’t. If you could have, you would have swept me off my feet and carried me away to a beautiful palace with luscious gardens always in bloom.”

A memory tugged at him. "Or run away on a pirate ship?"

Laughter erupted from the other end of the table. Someone must have told a bon mot. Nobody was paying attention to the boring old folk on the other side of the room. Good. The young were having fun. It buoyed her spirits.

Seemed to free up Edward from his encroaching morbs. “Maybe back then. Now, in spirit only.”

She laid her free hand on her bosom. “Surely you would not disappoint me so?”

“Well, besides a bum knee and a lower back that always aches and the occasional attack of gout? Sure. Happy to toss you over my shoulder and carry you off.”

Of course this made her laugh. It felt so good! How long had it been since she’d permitted herself unfettered happiness? “Just be careful of my left hip. It’s not what it once was.”

The footman with the soup course reached them, ladling a rich-smelling broth into their bowls. "I remember our first meal together," she said. "Best night of my life."

"Roast beef and syllabub," Edward provided. "Not once have I ever had syllabub and not thought of you."

"For me, it's a tankard of ale. Though no one really drinks ale nowadays, do they?"

"Not in polite company." He lifted a spoon of his soup and offered it to her. She should have turned it down, in all respects, but why? Honora sipped at the spoon. Then she dipped hers and offered it to him. He took it, gratefully.

He lifted his spoon and she tapped hers against his, eliciting a gentle chime of the silver. "We were too polite a company, weren't we?" he said.

Honora bowed her head. "We had to be. You know that."

"I do." He drew a deep breath. "Damn the right thing. I know it was the best thing, but—" He ran a hand through his silver hair. "I do not regret the things we did. We had fun. I know we did."

Honora nodded in agreement. "I regret we didn't do the things we wanted to, but I don't regret if we had done them and it turned out ill."

Honora had scooped up another spoonful of soup and held it out to him. "Eat," she said. "In memory of syllabub."

He accepted the spoonful of soup.

"I say," came the shocked voice of Lady Fermor, Countess of Pomfrit, from across the table. She laid a hand across her bosom.

Both Edward and Honora turned to her. Honora raised an eyebrow. Then slowly, deliberately, she took another spoonful of soup and offered it to Edward.

He gave her a startled glance. She returned it with a wicked gleam in her eye. Cutting Lady Fermor, he took the bowl of Honora's spoon in his mouth.

"William," Lady Fermor demanded of her husband. "Do something!"

Lord William, Earl of Pomfrit, turned from the discussion he had with the lady on his other side, interrupted. "Eh, wot?"

Said lady leaned over, curious. Soon several of the guests at their end of the table were looking to Lady Fermor.

Honora pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Her spoon was still in Edward's mouth, her hand on the handle, her gaze challenging Lady Fermor. She knew how to play this game.

Lady Fermor broke first. "I will not sit here and endure such scandal!" She rose and stalked off, leaving her baffled husband behind.

Everyone froze, wondering what had happened? Lady Shipbrook was the first to speak. "What did I miss?"

Edward did not relinquish the spoon in his mouth. Instead, he handed his spoon to Honora, who continued with her soup. She could not have looked more innocent than if she had whistled.

Lady Shipbrook was no slouch. "Lady Mildmay, I think I like you."