Lady Honor's Debt

by Maggi Andersen

  Edward withdrew papers from inside his coat. “I feel sure your commonsense will gain the upper hand after you read this, Lady Honor.”

  She took the pages and moved closer to a brazier. Skimming them, she turned back to where he silently waited. She was heartened to see that Leighton frequented a private club most often. “This comes as no surprise to me. I knew Leighton was a cheat.”

  His eyes widened. “You will still go ahead? Why, when the odds are against you?”

  “I don’t see that they are.” She tucked the papers into her reticule. “There’s something else you might do for me, my lord, if you would be so kind.”

  He ran his finger along his bottom lip. “If I can.”

  She glanced away from his sculptured mouth. “I wish to take some jewels to a pawnbroker. They belonged to my father’s family; my mother passed them on to me when she remarried.” At his swift intake of breath, she hurried on. “I don’t wish to sell them. I shall get them back after I win.”

  His green eyes held a gentle but firm warning. “I am intrigued to know what card game you have in mind, but whatever it is will prove irrelevant, as I doubt you’ll get the opportunity.” He raised an eyebrow. “For one, how on earth would you be granted entry to a club?”

  She fingered her amber necklace. “That’s a detail I’ve yet to work out. Could you advise me as to where I might find a pawnbroker I can trust?”

  He rubbed long fingers over his chin. His was a square, determined chin, she noted. Perhaps she should have chosen a solicitor who wasn’t quite so strong-minded…or attractive. “I can,” he said. “But what if you lose?”

  “I have to accept that possibility,” she admitted. “But I consider the risk to be small. If you need to employ more time, you must add the cost to my bill.”

  In the light of the brazier, his lordship scowled at her. “I only ask you to repay me by telling me what you intend to do,” he said, his tone condemning.

  Honor felt on surer ground when his lordship frowned rather than flattering her. “When I have the finer details worked out, I will.”

  “Before you act?”

  “Very well.” She glanced back into the ballroom, but could not see her mother. Had her absence been noticed? “I promise.”

  “Good. Bring the jewelry to my office tomorrow afternoon. We shall deal with your problem.”

  “You’ll help me?”

  “I see that I shall have to.”

  She looked around at the door leading to the ballroom. “I must get back.”

  He took her by the elbow none too gently and led her inside. Once amongst the guests again, he bowed and left her.

  He’d hardly been gracious about it, but her spirits lifted. Her plan came closer to fruition. Her stomach churned and made her wish she hadn’t eaten supper.

  ****

  Perhaps Lady Honor became more familiar to him, for Edward considered her striking when they danced in the candlelit ballroom. Her spectacles were unfortunate because they hid her fine eyes, but they could not detract from the delicate structure of her face, enhanced by the softer arrangement of her hair.

  When he had tried to gain some knowledge of what drove her—and he did not believe it to be solely vengeance—she had played with her necklace, completely unaware that it drew his eyes to her décolletage, while deliberately evading his questions. He admired the way she fought to solve her problems, even if he disapproved of her methods, and he suffered an unwelcome spurt of sympathy while his lawyer’s instinct drove him to uncover the truth.

  The best source for this kind of information lay in his siblings. His favorite sister, Sibella, was in London while her husband, John, attended Parliament.

  Expecting their first child, Sibella attended few functions. He found her at home when he visited Grosvenor Square the next morning. She was curled up on the salon sofa, the skirts of a flattering morning robe, trimmed with green velvet, spread around her, a plate with a half-eaten muffin beside her empty teacup.

  Sibella welcomed him with a serene smile, the contours of her face more rounded than when he’d last seen her. “Shall I ring for tea, dear?”

  “Thank you. I would enjoy a cup.”

  As the footman left them, Edward sat on the sofa beside her and stretched out his legs. Sibella tucked something small she had been knitting in a bag. She turned to him, a smile in her green eyes. “Has Mama been badgering you to marry?”

  He grimaced. “How lucky you are to be free of it.”

  “Mama believes marriage to be the perfect state for everyone.”

  “I doubt our mother is that naïve. She believes being a grandmother is the perfect state for her and wishes to delight in my progeny. I had hoped your interesting condition would make a perfect distraction.”

  “As the birth comes closer, I suspect it will. I don’t mind her fussing over me, surprisingly.” She tilted her head at him. “You don’t think it’s time to consider marrying? You must be tired of living in rooms and want a home of your own. Father bequeathed you a pretty farm in Surrey. It’s rented now, isn’t it?”

  He frowned. “Yes. But I don’t see the urgency.”

  “No, but you put so much store by your work, it quite fills your life. You’re blessed with the perfect qualities to make some lady a splendid husband. And to be a father—your nephews and nieces are so fond of you.”

  “You may be biased, Sib,” he said with a grin.

  “Nonsense.”

  A maid entered the room and placed the tea tray on the satinwood table.

  Edward watched Sibella pour tea into the cups from the silver teapot. “I’m actually here in search of information. I’ve had little to do with the Baxendales, being away at school and then at Oxford. Do you know them well?”

  Sibella handed him a gold-rimmed cup and saucer. “Our neighbors in Tunbridge Wells? Yes, why?”

  “I’m curious about Lady Honor.”

  “Honor? Has she caught your fancy?” She gave him a sly smile. “Or is she merely one of mother’s choices?”

  “Lady Honor has consulted me on a legal matter. I can’t discuss it with you, but I believe she’s withholding something important from me.”

  “How curious.” Sibella put down her cup. “The Baxendale girls are all darlings. Honor is a trifle reserved, but nice for all that. She’s a mother hen to her younger stepsisters. Honor had an unsettling childhood. Before her father, Lord Amberwell, died, he gambled away everything he owned, even his estate in Oxfordshire.”

  “Yes, a tragic business. I’d like to know more about her past. You must have attended dances together?”

  “We are of an age and were out at the same time. Honor didn’t wear spectacles in those days.” Sibella paused to pour herself a fresh cup. “As I remember, she had a keen beau. Was he Mr. Berryham?” She stirred sugar into her tea. “No, Berryham was madly in love with Lady Jennifer Spicer, whom he subsequently married.” She frowned. “I can’t seem to recall. I suppose I was too busy to notice much.”

  He winked. “Mooning over John?”

  “That’s not nice, Edward.” She laughed. “Even if it is true.” She took another bite of muffin and chewed thoughtfully. “Whoever the man was, it came to naught. I’m not sure of the reason, but it was odd when Honor disappeared from the London scene after only one Season.” Sibella shrugged. “I don’t know if I can tell you much more.” She brushed crumbs from her lap. “Lady Baxendale must have suffered dreadfully when her husband killed himself, for she remarried with great haste. Faith was born the same year.”

  He raised a brow. “Then she knew Baxendale while her husband was alive?”

  “Oh, I see what you’re asking. Lady Baxendale didn’t observe the proper mourning period, but I was a child and have no idea what gossip there was.” She tilted her head at him. “This is all very much in the past. Shall I ask John?”

  “Please don’t. You know how indifferent he is to gossip. And somewhat scathing of gossipers,” he said with a grin.

 
“Why don’t you ask Mama? Nothing gets past her.”

  He suppressed a shudder. “She will assume I have an interest in that quarter.”

  Sibella eyed him while smiling affectionately. “Don’t you?”

  “I’m not in the market for a bride. If I were, Lady Honor is far too complex, and not all that friendly. Glares at me mostly.”

  Sibella laughed. “Oh, Edward, you Brandreth men are blind to your appeal. Women get a crick in their necks from watching you.”

  “Not Lady Honor; she freezes me at a glance.”

  “Does she? How fascinating. Still waters run deep, they say.”

  He nodded. “An apt description, I suspect.”

  “You are intrigued, aren’t you? Except for Vaughn’s antics, I’ve never seen you remotely interested in what others were doing.”

  Edward frowned. “It’s purely business.”

  “You were always our favorite brother, my dear. You have a big heart.”

  Sib was gazing too closely at him for his liking. She could always read him like a book, but not today. “By the way, how is our rapscallion younger brother?” he asked to distract her. It was deuced peaceful since Vaughn had gone to work with John’s thoroughbreds in Yorkshire. “Still determined to marry the apothecary’s daughter?”

  “Vaughn keeps his feelings to himself, but he still seems keen.”

  “To be honest, I expected him to have fallen out of love by now. He used to be as fickle as lightning. Another mystery.” He stood. “I must go. I have a client to see.”

  She climbed awkwardly to her feet and kissed his cheek. Her bump brushed against him and he laughed. “John’s heir is growing nicely.”

  “You should feel the force of his kick.” She giggled. “John says the babe is most likely to be a girl with the Brandreth females’ forceful character.”

  Edward made his way to the hackney stand, buttoning his greatcoat against the cool breeze. Sibella was very content, and so was John. Marriage might not be such an exacting institution after all. Not that he wanted to launch himself in that direction.

  Chapter Five

  As Honor passed the morning room, her mother looked up from the fashion magazine she had been pursuing. “Where are you off to, Honor?”

  Honor paused in the act of putting on her hat. “I thought I’d walk in Hyde Park. It’s such a lovely day.”

  “Alone? I’m sure you will appreciate company. I shall come with you. Wait for me to change into a walking dress.”

  Honor clutched her reticule containing her jewels. “Very well, Mama.”

  She sat on the sofa, wondering how she might disentangle herself from her mother’s company. Nothing came to her; she had used up all her excuses. It was especially difficult now that Faith had gone riding in Rotten Row. As her younger sisters remained in Tunbridge Wells, her mother only had her to focus on.

  Mama returned, tying the bonnet ribbons beneath her chin. “I expected you to ride with Faith and the other ladies today. I know how much you enjoy the activity.”

  “I didn’t feel like riding.”

  “You’re not unwell?” She came to feel Honor’s forehead.

  Honor smiled up at her. “A little tired, perhaps. I prefer a more gentle form of exercise.”

  “You have been doing too much since we came to London. Please do not traipse about alone. I know you feel you are old enough, but my dear, silly girl, you are not.”

  “I planned to take Mary.”

  “Well, you have me instead. I’ll tell Baxendale where we are going.”

  Honor paced the front hall. How was she to get her jewels to Lord Edward? He would expect her, and when she didn’t come, he might grow cool to the idea. So much hinged on the money. She could do nothing without it.

  Her mother reappeared. “Baxendale wants me to accompany him to Bond Street to visit his tailor. Would you care to come too?”

  “No, thank you,” Honor said, trying not to show her relief.

  “Well, make sure you take Mary, and don’t wander farther than the park. I expect you home well before dusk.”

  ****

  Edward watched Lady Honor remove a velvet box from her reticule. She handed it to him and sat on the chair he offered. He placed the box on his desk and flipped the lid. “Merciful heavens!” A breathtaking ruby-and-diamond parure gleamed in its bed of satin.

  “Exquisite, isn’t it?” she said with a proud smile.

  He looked up from the sparkling necklace, earrings, and brooch. Rubies were the perfect stone for her coloring. “You would risk losing these?”

  “I don’t see that I have much choice.”

  Edward shot her a penetrating look. Really, this was absurd. He had been patient, but now the gloves must come off. “Everyone has a choice, Lady Honor,” he said tersely. “We make decisions every day. Some wiser than others.”

  Her eyes flashed with anger. “Certainly, for those who can afford to choose.”

  “And if you fail, do you plan to offer yourself to all the riff-raff in Covent Garden to buy the jewels back?” he asked with heavy irony.

  “That was uncalled for, sir!” She reddened and looked down at her gloved hands.

  “I’m sorry.” He firmed his jaw, surprised at the level of his frustration. “But I don’t understand why you feel you have to do this. You owe me a better explanation.”

  “You’re right.” She huffed out a sigh. “Believe me when I say my choices are few, my lord. If my plan fails, I must marry the Duke of Morven.”

  He stared at her. “What an appalling notion!” he said, unbridled anger in his voice.

  Her face clouded with uneasiness. “You have some objection to the duke?”

  “He’s fifty if he’s a day.” Gossip had it that Morven had used the whip on his wife, as he did his horses, in his Gothic pile down in Cornwall.

  She fidgeted with her reticule with nervous fingers. “My stepfather thinks it’s a good match.”

  “Wasn’t your reason for all this to rescue Lady Faith from marrying Gillingham?”

  She sighed. “I have been hoping to rescue us both. But things have changed.”

  “How?”

  “They just have.”

  He stared at her and guessed at the truth. “You persuaded your stepfather to choose you to marry off instead of Faith? And the man in question is Morven.”

  Her cheeks drained of color, but she didn’t answer.

  Edward flung back his chair and stalked around the desk to face her. “Why are you so intent on saving your sister from marriage to a presentable man like Gillingham? What of your life? Do you not value it?”

  “Of course I do,” she cried. “Do you think my stepfather will stop at Faith? He has plans for all of us.”

  “It’s been a longtime practice. Is it so hateful to want your daughters to marry well?” He leaned back against the desk and folded his arms. “Can he not choose a more personable suitor for you, however?”

  She plucked at her skirt and refused to meet his gaze. “Apart from those jewels, my dowry is small. And the man must be well-to-do, or my stepfather will not agree.”

  “And no suitable man has presented himself?” At her swift shake of the head, Edward thought of Honor’s suitor whom Sibella had mentioned. Although it would stir up a hornet’s nest, he must ask his mother. “One thing is certain, Lady Honor,” he said, “you cannot wander around London with valuable jewels. I’ll place them in my safe and take them to a pawnbroker for you.”

  Chapter Six

  Honor gazed at Edward. In his grey coat and bottle-green waistcoat, he seemed every bit at home in his surroundings. Mortified by the way the conversation had gone, she stirred uneasily in her chair. She disliked being in his debt, especially when he gave her no quarter. If only Edward would agree to send her a bill. She must keep her independence, or her confidence would falter. “That’s entirely unnecessary, my lord. If you furnish me with the address, I shall go directly there.”

  “You can’t travel all the w
ay to Lombard Street with those in your reticule,” he reasoned. “London is crawling with footpads and sharks who will snatch as small a thing as your handkerchief.”

  Honor hesitated. Lombard Street lay at a distance from home. It would take her ages to find the shop and return. Her maid, Mary, was waiting in the outer office. Unfortunately, maids could be notoriously unreliable. Even though she had bought Mary’s silence with a pearl brooch, Mary would certainly crumble under her stepfather’s harsh questioning. A thin veneer of concealment kept Honor’s purpose secret from her parents, but it could rupture at any time. She must act quickly. “My lord, I am most appreciative of your help. I require four hundred pounds in banknotes.”

  “Banknotes? Not everyone will accept them.”

  “I’m confident they will be accepted where I intend to use them.”

  He gave a nod. “Very well. I’ll notify you when I have the money.”

  “Thank you.” She rose, straightened her chip bonnet, and held out her hand to him. “I look forward to hearing from you and receiving your account,” she said in a firm tone.

  “I shan’t delay.” His handsome green eyes searched hers as he took her hand in his. He held it a moment too long. Electricity seemed to arc through her. She passed quickly through the doorway, wondering if he had felt it too.

  ****

  Edward locked the jewels in his office safe. No sense in telling Lady Honor the money would come from his pocket. He doubted she would ever play a card game with Leighton. The notion was absurd. At least her rubies would remain safe with him.

  As he traveled by hackney to Brandreth Court to visit his mother, he questioned the level of his involvement. He was taking the matter far beyond his duty as Lady Honor’s solicitor. Yet it was clear the lady needed a champion. Apparently, he was the one. But he also wanted this matter over with so that he could catch up on his heavy load of casework.

  His mother, dowager Marchioness of Brandreth, resided during the Season with his elder brother, Chaloner. Edward arrived at his house just as she was about to venture forth to pay morning calls. She met him in the marble entry hall, pulling on her gloves while an impassive footman held her pelisse.