Page 24 of Twelfth Night Sorcery (The Cambion Club #2)

Honora did not even blame her mother for shunning her.

Lady Grantly always acted in what she thought was the best interest of the whole family, if not necessarily the best interest of any one individual member.

She must have genuinely believed disowning Honora was the best way to protect the rest of the family.

For all Honora knew, her mother might be right.

Honora certainly did not want her siblings to suffer.

Jack deserved a chance to cultivate friendships that would be useful when he was grown.

Her sisters deserved their own chance to make advantageous marriages, if they wanted to do so.

Dora, in particular, had challenges enough in her life.

Honora hated to think about the disgrace of her own elopement adding to Dora’s hardships.

Perhaps it really was better for Honora to stay away from her siblings so they would not be associated with her disgrace.

But was it a disgrace to marry a young, handsome viscount?

Why? If anything, she’d thought marrying Lord Valance would raise her standing in society.

She had not realized eloping and marrying by special license would taint her reputation so much.

It wasn’t as if they had gone off to Gretna Green!

Fortunately, most of Lord Valance’s acquaintances behaved perfectly politely to the newly married couple.

The Valances had begun receiving invitations for parties, routs, and balls, though they only accepted a few.

So far as Honora knew, no one had cut Lord Valance because of his elopement.

But perhaps, as with so many things, the scandal of eloping attached more to the lady in question than to the gentleman.

She sighed, feeling she would never fully understand the complicated rules of society, try as she might. She would do better to stop moping and get ready for dinner. She got to her feet and rang for Clack.

“My lady,” Clack said as she arranged her hair, “you could use some jewelry. Some pretty earrings, perhaps, or some brilliants for your hair.”

“I do not need jewels,” Honora said absently. She had never been in the habit of wearing much jewelry. All she had now were the pearl eardrops she had worn the night of the masquerade.

But Clack did not drop the subject. “Does the Valance family not have any heirloom jewels? You would look very well with sapphires or emeralds, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“I do not know what jewels the Valance family may own,” Honora admitted.

She supposed she ought to know that. In the normal order of things, Lord Valance would have presented her with whatever he wanted her to wear from the family jewelry collection.

Showing off the family’s wealth was one of the roles of an aristocratic wife.

Perhaps he did not want Honora to wear the Valance jewels. He had been more attentive to her lately, but that did not change the fact that this was an unwanted marriage for both of them. Nothing could change that.

“You will get lines on your face if you keep frowning,” Clack scolded. “Try to cultivate a cheerful expression.”

Honora snorted. That was precisely what her mother used to tell her! But perhaps Clack was right. She resolved to push her unhappiness away, so she pasted a smile on her face before going down to dinner.

She kept up her cheerful facade throughout the meal, and during their time in the drawing room with Mrs. Valance, but she let it drop when it was time for bed.

Not that she turned in right away. Over the last week or two, she and Lord Valance had fallen into the habit of meeting in his room every night to talk after retiring from the drawing room.

It was their chance to check in with each other away from listening ears.

His Lordship would ask if there was anything Honora needed, and she would ask if there was anything she could do to assist him.

There never was, though. He did not ever seem to need her help.

She supposed he had not really needed a wife at all.

Lord Valance kept a decanter of cherry brandy—the only kind Honora liked—on his dressing table.

He offered to pour a snifter of it for her now.

They often had a drink together by the fire while chatting about the day, or their plans for the week, or what they had been reading.

It had become one of the most pleasant parts of the evening.

Tonight, though, she shook her head. “I am tired,” she told him, though that was not quite the right word. “Glum” or “melancholy” might be more accurate. Would she ever be able to think of her childhood home without heartache?

“Are you unwell?” he asked her.

“No. It has been a long day, that is all.”

Lines of concern formed on his face as he studied her. “You will tell me, won’t you, if there is anything I can do to make things easier for you?”

Love me, Honora thought. With her family cut off, there was no one in her life who loved her, and no one whom she could love back. No wonder she felt like moping tonight. But she could not ask Lord Valance to love her. She understood perfectly well that theirs was merely a marriage of convenience.

“There is nothing you can do,” she told her husband.

*

The day after that, she came up to dress for dinner and discovered an unfamiliar jewelry box on her dressing table.

She opened it to reveal a set of blue-green jewels.

Not turquoises, though: these were translucent gems. Some kind of sapphire?

Or something else? Clack entered the dressing room and peered over Honora’s shoulder.

“Aquamarines!” Approval warmed Clack’s voice. “Perfect for you. And the setting is very fashionable. They must be new, or newly-set.” The maid smiled. “You must have talked to His Lordship about jewelry last night.”

“No.” Honora shook her head. “I did not say anything about that conversation to him.” The jewels had been his idea entirely.

The case contained a necklace, a bracelet, a brooch, earrings, and a hair ornament. If Lord Valance had purchased this specifically for her, it must have cost a small fortune. A little of the pain in her heart eased up as she admired the parure.

“You should wear them tonight, my lady,” Clack suggested. “To see how they look, at least.”

And, Honora thought, so Lord Valance could see that she appreciated his gift.

She would not normally wear jewelry when dining en famille, but tonight she would make an exception.

Tonight, the smile on her face at dinner was real.

She looked forward to their next social engagement, when she could show her new finery to the world.

Her chance came soon enough. At the beginning of February, Abigail Carrington and Susan Taylor returned to London, having apparently reconciled their quarrel with Mr. Carrington.

Miss Carrington sent a note asking if Lord and Lady Valance would like to accompany them to a musical production of Twelfth Night playing at The White Rose, one of London’s unlicensed theaters.

“Would you like to go?” Lord Valance asked over breakfast. “I have never visited this theater, but the manager has been in the business for years. He probably knows what he’s doing.”

“But Oliver,” his mother interjected. “Wouldn’t you prefer to patronize the legitimate drama rather than one of these little mushroom theaters? The quality of the acting cannot be good. No one I know ever goes there.”

Lord Valance sat still for a moment, as if he were choosing his words carefully. “Miss Taylor is well acquainted with the theatrical world, and if she thinks this is likely to be a good performance, she is probably right. As a matter of fact, her cousin is playing the role of Viola.”

For some reason, his mother’s expression soured.

“Miss Taylor’s cousin is an actress?” Honora put her fork down in surprise. She did not know anyone who had ever been on the stage, apart from amateur theatricals.

“Her own mother was on the stage.” Mrs. Valance dropped her voice when she uttered the last three words, as if they were too scandalous to be said out loud.

“How interesting! Was her father an actor too?” That seemed rather an odd background for a genteel lady’s companion, but the Carrington family did not always play by the usual rules.

Lord Valance laughed. “No, Mr. Taylor is a respectable barrister. The younger son of a baron, in fact. It was quite the scandalous marriage in its time—a barrister from a noble family marrying a girl right off the stage! But they seem to have made it work.”

“I cannot understand why they have kept up the connection with her mother’s family, though,” Mrs. Valance fretted. “It is one thing to marry a girl from a disreputable background. It is another thing entirely to consort with her family!”

Lord Valance ignored his mother and addressed Honora directly. “Would you like to go?”

Honora nodded. “I should like to meet Miss Carrington and Miss Taylor. And I like Shakespeare, although I prefer Measure for Measure to Twelfth Night.”

“No one likes Measure for Measure!” her husband protested.

“I do.” She had always liked Isabella, and she liked the way the play exposed hypocrisy. “But I like to assume Isabella does not marry the duke at the end.”

“Why wouldn’t she want to marry the duke? Any young lady would be happy to become a duchess,” Mrs. Valance insisted.

Honora cringed, thinking this question treaded entirely too close to the reason for her elopement. Perhaps Lord Valance noticed, because he quickly changed the subject, and they said no more about Shakespeare or the theater.

But now she had new acquaintances and a good play to look forward to.