‘Do you have the money to afford such a trip? A manservant to travel with you, perhaps?’
The shiny black curls at her ears swayed a little with the reluctant shake of her head. ‘The only servant I keep is Mary. Under other circumstances I might ask her husband to accompany me, but I’ve no wish to take him away while she’s so near her time. A safe delivery and healthy baby are far more important than my comfort in a coach, no matter how others might whisper.’
She’d avoided the question about money, Isaac noted, although a large part of him registered nothing but surprise at her answer to the other. Her concern for her maid was the first gleam of warmth he’d seen in Honora’s set face, the smallest hint of softness that might lie within and echoing his own sentiments about Charlotte so closely it was unnerving. Why she was so determined he didn’t see her kindness he couldn’t quite grasp, but his confusion was enough to allow his lips to speak before he could curb them—and damn him with a betrayal that should never have been uttered.
‘I see. In that case it seems you have no alternative. With no other choice available to you—you’ll have to travel with me.’
* * *
Peering down from the landing, Honora felt the tick of her pulse beneath the thin skin of her throat and hoped fervently Lord Lovell couldn’t see how quickly it skipped. He was just as handsome in the daylight as he had been at night, possibly more so, with flecks of silver scattered among his warm brown hair and a jawline that looked chiselled from stone. In the weak December sunshine trickling into the hall she saw his forehead was crossed with the lines of a deep thinker and his mobile mouth could probably lift into a heart-stopping smile if he chose—not that there was much chance of that at present, so firmly did he wear an expression of long-suffering patience that made her bristle in spite of the rapid patter of her pulse.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You will have to travel with me.’ He spoke as if spelling something out to a particularly confused child. ‘I’ll pay for you. I don’t see how else you could proceed.’
She drew herself up to her full height. Of all the patronising, self-important... No wonder he and Frank had been friends. They were both so sure of themselves, so maddeningly certain they knew best. It was nothing but sheer bad luck the face that made her want to stare belonged to Lord Lovell, as irritating as he was pleasant to look upon. Frank had been just the same, a comely man far too secure in his appeal and abilities—and more dangerous than she ever could have known.
I’ve no desire to find myself mixed up with another of those. Frank took a wrecking ball to my life and now his friend seems set to try taking over where he left off.
‘I’m quite capable of organising myself, Lord Lovell,’ she snapped—perhaps a little too sharply. ‘I don’t require your charity.’
She rather suspected he fought the urge to roll his eyes and felt her jaw tense in reply. ‘Perish the thought, madam. You have an idea, then, of how to pay for yourself? The funds to make such a long journey lying around somewhere?’
Damn.
Honora knew her face had scrunched into a scowl, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to iron it out. The insufferable man standing below was right. She barely had enough to pay Mary and buy some little Christmas fairings for the children, let alone afford to cover her travel. Her money was stretched to breaking point already and she had no savings, the small sum from the sale of her wedding ring dwindling rapidly. Stuck between a rock and hard place she didn’t have much choice—something the infuriating lift of Lord Lovell’s eyebrow indicated he knew all too well.
‘I didn’t think so. Take my offer. A favour is different to charity after all.’
Even a favour is more than I want from him, she thought bitterly.
It would tie her to him and complicate matters more than her bizarre reaction to him already had, but there was no other option and her practicality would have to triumph over her hesitation.
‘In the absence of any other way I suppose I’ll have to accept—on the basis you understand it’s a loan only. I was present when Frank made his will, only days after our marriage and when he still cared to make a favourable impression on me, and unless he thought to alter it after our estrangement I ought to have some provision. Once my widow’s jointure is settled I shall repay every penny I owe.’
‘There’s no need. The amount involved will be inconsequential to me.’
It was Honora’s turn to control the wayward roll of her eyes.
Does he think to impress me with his wealth?
‘There’s every need. The only person a woman should be obligated to is herself. Will you shake on our agreement? If you’re willing to enter into it, of course.’
Still looking up at her, Lord Lovell gave a short laugh. It was brief, over and gone the very next second, but something in the low note sent an inexplicable flutter through Honora’s stomach. ‘Shake on it? Are you a merchant?’
Setting the disquieting feeling aside, she pursed her lips. ‘I intend to keep my word. A handshake will make it binding.’
‘Very well. If you insist.’
Lord Lovell lifted a nonchalant shoulder and watched as she descended the stairs, her fingers gripping the wooden rail as if it could help stem the tide of unease swirling within her. Each step brought Honora nearer to him until she stood close enough to extend one hand, determined to hold it steady as Lord Lovell took it in his firm grip.
Her arm lit up as though tamed fire streaked under her skin the very instant he touched her.
Flaring out from her hand, the sensation skittered higher until it invaded the secret hollow beneath the bodice of her gown, a shock that made her snatch an unwilling breath. Once there the feeling rebounded, arcing to light a bonfire in her lungs and send her heart galloping like a wild horse over the Virginian mountains. It was the most delightful, tingling commotion in every nerve—and almost brought Honora to her knees.
No. It can’t be. Not again.
Time reeled backwards as she stood and stared up into Lord Lovell’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin and taking in the play of coffee and amber that made up each iris. For one hammer-stroke of her heart she was a girl again, standing in front of Frank Blake, the handsome adventurer from England, and wondering at how the mere touch of his hand made her feel as though she was walking on air. It was the exact same sensation that coursed through her now like a merciless river, unrelenting, savage and a warning she couldn’t ignore.
Perhaps some of what twisted through her horrified mind showed on her face. Lord Lovell forced a dry swallow, the smooth line of his neck convulsing with the effort, and he dropped her hand as though it were a snake to turn and walk away.
‘You should go to pack. I want to leave as soon as possible.’
Chapter Three
Isaac had read and reread the same paragraph of his newspaper three times. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the lithe form of Honora, soberly wrapped in a black coat, swaying with the motion of the coach in a movement he found unutterably hypnotic. She’d already almost caught him staring twice, once more would be difficult to explain away, both to her and to himself.
He frowned down at the page. Ever since he had taken her hand and felt a wild swell beneath the expensive linen of his shirt he hadn’t been able to get the uncanny sensation, or her, out of his mind. How many women’s hands had he held in his lifetime, perhaps gently tracing the line of an elegant knuckle to hear its owner sigh? Countless dozens, he thought irritably, yet none of them had sent a rush through him he could only compare to the thrill of placing a risky bet in a game of cards. It was the same pulse of excitement of taking a chance and not knowing whether it would be a prize he won or the taste of defeat—and it didn’t please him one little bit.
We’ve only been on the road an hour and already I fear I made a mistake in offering to bring her with me. This journey is tedi
ous enough without her presence making it worse.
With a brisk snap of paper he turned the page, determined not to glance over the top of it in the direction of his companion—once again. Honora had barely spoken a word since they’d left Wycliff Lodge, and the silence between them seemed in little danger of being broken as she gazed out at the passing fields of the West Country.
Fine by me. Hearing the thoughts of Frank Blake’s widow on any subject couldn’t be of less significance.
Each time she caught his eye he felt the same, a flicker of unwanted interest bookended on either side by loathing of the husband she had once chosen. If he had never befriended Frank, falling for the façade of roguish charm he’d thought they shared, Charlotte’s life wouldn’t have been ruined—or teetering on the brink of being so, the risk of her sharing his mother’s fate never far from his mind—and Honora was a reminder to Isaac of how he had failed to protect the one person he loved...
‘Is there something you want?’
The voice from the corner came crisp and curt and when Isaac looked up he saw Honora watched him with as much enthusiasm as she might regard a wasps’ nest.
‘Pardon?’
‘I said, is there something you want? You keep glancing at me as if there’s something you wanted to say.’
‘Of course not. You’re mistaken.’
‘Am I? How strange. I could have sworn I saw you peering at me from over the top of your newssheet.’
She turned her attention back to the window and Isaac glared down at his page with small hope now of continuing to read. Annoyance with both himself and the provoking woman opposite him made the words blur before his eyes and he set it aside with a bad-tempered rustle of crumpled paper.
Anyone would think I’d dragged her along with me against her will rather than doing her a favour. She certainly hasn’t thanked me as much as one might expect.
Perhaps she wanted him to ask what was bothering her, he mused as he stretched his legs out more comfortably into the space between the seats. There was nobody else in the coach aside from Honora and himself and he saw her bristle slightly, as straight-backed and unfriendly as a feral cat. She pulled her pelisse a little tighter about her body and gave a sniff of disapproval, although whether it was the proximity of his boot or his general existence that riled her he couldn’t say. No doubt she’d jump at the chance to tell him exactly what it was about him she disliked, sure to seize the chance to take him down a peg or two if only he’d ask.
But he wouldn’t.
He’d rather sit in silence for the rest of the journey than deign to ask what bothered her so much to force her cool displeasure. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. She could stew on her discontent for the next hundred miles, Isaac thought resolutely, no matter how much she huffed and sighed. He would not allow her to draw him out—even if both his curiosity and, frustratingly, pride was roused by her determination to dislike him, the complete opposite to his usual reception. Didn’t she know how eligible he was considered? Was she unaware he could charm whatever society woman he chose, their smiles following handsome Lord Lovell wherever he went and falling into his arms if he invited them—which he no longer would, it was true, now Charlotte’s fate had opened his eyes to the ruin a man’s feckless behaviour could wreak.
I’m not asking her.
No matter how she pursed her pretty lips and looked away.
I’m not asking her.
Even if she ignored him for the next day and a half.
I’m not asking her.
He sat forward. ‘Mrs Blake. Perhaps you might tell me what it is I’ve done to offend you.’
Damnation.
‘Whatever do you mean?’ Honora allowed him one sidelong look that set his teeth on edge, suspicious and faux innocent all at once. ‘I don’t understand you.’
Ignoring the obvious lie—and the feeling of wanting to kick himself for his lapse of control—Isaac pressed on. ‘Ever since I arrived at Wycliff Lodge—’
‘—uninvited and unannounced—’
‘—you’ve seemed displeased by almost everything I’ve said and done. Why is that?’
Honora’s lip twisted. ‘You’ve hardly been a model of charm yourself.’
‘Based entirely on your frosty reception.’
‘What else did you expect? A friend of Frank’s appearing out of nowhere and invading my home?’
‘Invading your home?’ Isaac felt his face crease in annoyance. ‘I explained the mistake that led me to go inside and don’t forget—it was for your husband’s sake that I was there in the first place!’
‘Exactly so!’ Now Honora sat forward triumphantly. ‘For my husband’s sake. You and he were obviously good friends. Can you blame me for not wanting any acquaintance of his lingering about?’
‘You dislike me because of my choice of friends?’
She shot him a look that suggested he was the biggest simpleton alive, asking a question with so clear an answer it was beneath her to reply. He stared back, the steady tick of his temper growing quicker beneath her silent scorn.
‘But what does that say about you, following that logic? Aren’t you just as bad? Worse, even—I may have been his friend once, but you married him!’
‘And see where it got me!’ Honora’s eyes flashed, fire melting her glacial contempt. ‘Frank held my life in his hands and crumbled it as though it was nothing to him. He pretended to love me when he thought I was to inherit a fortune, but when I rejected it he left me alone and penniless. He caused me to break with my own parents, to be so shamefully stubborn and stupid I can never go back! To have been on intimate terms it stands to reason you’re cut from the same cloth. Nobody would blame me for not welcoming you with open arms, given your similarity to one who treated me so badly.’
Isaac stilled. ‘Frank and I were not so alike.’
‘No? And yet you were close enough he died in your arms?’
A denial sprang to the tip of Isaac’s tongue and almost fled his lips before he wrestled it back.
Wait a moment. Be careful.
If he corrected her assumption, it would lead a direct path to Charlotte and her pitiable situation. How could it be otherwise, after explaining to Honora the reason Frank died in Isaac’s arms was not out of friendship, but because he had been hunted past the brink of exhaustion for seducing an innocent girl? That far from being friends, Isaac now loathed Frank with every sinew of his entire body for lying to Charlotte, concealing from her his marriage and leaving her with a child to remind her of her shame for ever? If Isaac told Honora how wrong she was, she would demand answers and that would put Charlotte at risk of a scandal he would shield her from at all costs.
And yet, despite your indignation...were you truly so different? Can you really deny your conduct was sometimes less honourable than it should have been, towards women especially?
It was an unpleasant question, but one that none the less he had to face. He hadn’t always been a paragon of virtue, his disregard for marriage and commitment stemming from childhood and directly influencing his behaviour as a grown man. Only now that Charlotte was suffering had the scales fallen from him and it was difficult to look his reflection in the eye—especially now it was Honora Blake holding up the mirror, another who had known torment at the hands of an unthinking man.
‘I can’t answer for that,’ he ground out between gritted teeth, wishing more than ever he had left Honora in that tumbledown old house to make her own way north. ‘He must have trusted me. Perhaps I made it easier for him to be a friend than you did to be a husband.’
Her face tightened and Isaac knew at once he had been cruel. Irritating as she was, he shouldn’t have insulted her and felt a glint of guilt for allowing his temper to carry him too far, his worry for Charlotte clouding his judgement and sharpening his tongue.
He sighed.
I ought
to apologise. Not that I think for a moment she’ll accept it.
‘Mrs Blake—’
Honora cut him off with a resolute turn of her head back to the coach’s filmy window. The driver was drawing the horses to a gentle halt as they neared an inn at the side of the road and a glance outside showed Isaac a couple of passengers waiting to board. ‘You’re right, Lord Lovell. At first I did dislike you for being Frank’s friend, but now...’ Her face was obscured by the brim of her bonnet, but Isaac didn’t need to see her expression to understand her tone as the coach rolled to a stop. ‘Now, however, it’s more because I find you one of the most unpleasant men I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I think perhaps we had better not speak any further.’
* * *
Honora kept her eyes firmly on the scene outside her window although she barely saw the trees and fields skipping by. The jolt of the coach made her teeth feel as though they were rattling in her head and she longed to be able to get down, even if only for a moment, and take a deep breath of biting December air.
Not only to settle my stomach. To escape from Lord Unlovable would be just wonderful.
How dare he imply she was to blame for Frank’s abandonment? Out of the corner of her eye she could see him scouring his newssheet once again, entirely ignoring both her and the young couple who had embarked when the coach stopped to change horses. The woman sat next to Honora now and her escort had drawn the short straw of Lord Lovell for a companion, although neither of them seemed to have eyes for anyone but the other.
Just as well they don’t try to speak to him. I doubt they’d hear anything agreeable if they did.
At least she had the satisfaction of knowing she’d been right all along, Honora thought acidly. Lord Lovell was just as unlikable as she’d suspected, every bit as unkind as she had predicted given his friendship with Frank. Now she knew for certain what type of man she was bound to for the next hundred miles she could go about treating him with the distant disdain he deserved. All there was left to do was make her disloyal senses fall into line with her rational thinking—starting with preventing her eyes from sliding in his direction more often than she liked.
A Mistletoe Vow to Lord Lovell Page 4