“Sit over there on the flat stone. I’ll see what damage has been done,” the duke said in a silky tone.
“Please don’t bother, Your Grace. I am quite able to ride back to the house.”
He placed an arm around her waist. “Not wise, my lady. Lean on me. We must remove your boot before your ankle swells.”
She recoiled at his touch, her blood running cold. As he drew her toward the outcrop of granite at the side of the path, the ground thudded with an approaching horse.
“I believe we have company.” Honor swallowed a gasp of profound relief. She stared at the rider, not trusting her eyes. Edward Winborne rode from the trees on a big chestnut stallion.
With a grim smile, Edward pulled up his horse and jumped down. “Your Grace, Lady Honor, I see we’re of the same mind. I also came to admire the magnificent view from the cliffs.”
The duke’s face set in a heavy scowl. “Lady Honor and I were enjoying a quiet talk,” he said coldly.
“I’m afraid I’ve turned my ankle, Lord Edward,” Honor said hastily. “If you and His Grace will assist me to my horse, I shall ride back to the house for treatment.”
“No need to trouble yourself, Winborne,” the duke said. “Please continue to enjoy your ride. I am well able to care for Lady Honor.”
“No trouble at all,” Edward said cheerfully, walking over to her. “Allow me, Lady Honor. You must place a cold compress on your ankle as quickly as possible.” With no further ado, Edward hefted Honor up into his arms and strode to her horse.
Honor clung to his coat and breathed him in. She had not expected to feel safe in a man’s arms. She peeped at Edward’s strong jaw, where a nerve flickered, and almost forgot the duke lurking behind, but for the thwack as his whip struck his boot.
“If you’ll put me down, I believe I can mount with a little assistance,” Honor said, deciding not to give Edward further encouragement. The duke might send him packing.
“No need.” Edward swung her up onto the saddle before the duke could protest further.
Honor thanked them for their kind ministrations. Not waiting for either of them to remount and join her, she nudged her horse into a canter and rode back to the house.
She guided her mount along the bridle path, thinking of Lord Edward. How very odd that he was here. Had he followed her? Or was it a coincidence? Whatever the reason, she must keep away from him as much as possible. If her stepfather got the wrong idea, he would rush her into marriage with the duke. Before they left home, she had slipped into her stepfather’s office and viewed the bills his creditors demanded he pay. He grew more short-tempered every day, his torment obvious.
Honor entered her bedchamber and removed her boot. Her ankle was a little red, but not swollen. Rumpus in the corridor outside told her the family had returned from their jaunt.
Faith peeped around the door. “You’re here! I didn’t expect it. Did you enjoy your ride?”
“I had to come back when I turned my ankle, but it’s nothing really.”
Faith sat on the bed. “Isn’t this a strange house? I’m sure there are ghosts. Would you like to live here? I should hate it.”
Honor bent to put on house slippers, hiding her dismay from Faith’s gaze. “Not cheerful, I agree.”
“Honor?”
She looked up. “Yes, dearest?”
Faith curled a lock of her fair hair around her finger, something she did when she was worried. “I don’t like the duke.”
“You mustn’t worry, dearest. I don’t intend to marry him.”
Faith released a breath. “You don’t? Father seems to think you will.”
“I shall not.”
“How can you be sure?”
Honor moved to place an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I have a plan. Please don’t speak of it, Faith. I shan’t tell you more just yet. It might be bad luck. Please don’t worry.”
Faith looked at her with tears clinging to her lashes. “I do hope you’re right. If you lived down here, we’d seldom see you.”
Honor kissed her cheek and tidied the lock back into place behind Faith’s ear. “Let’s go and see Mama. I want to hear all about Tintagel.”
****
Edward rode back to the house alongside his tight-lipped, terse host. After they left the stables, Morven barely glanced his way. “I’ll see you at dinner, my lord,” the duke muttered, and strode off.
He needed a private word with Honor. Entering the house, Edward went in search of the young page. When a footman brought the boy to Edward’s chamber, he stood before him, his eyes on the floor.
“What’s your name?” Edward asked.
“Bartholomew, my lord.”
“I have a brother by that name,” Edward said with a smile. “He’s a vicar in York.”
The page’s enormous brown eyes searched Edward’s. “I should like to go to York.”
“How long have you been with the duke?”
He ran nervous fingers over his satin coat. “Four years, my lord.”
“You enjoy living here?”
Small shoulders shrugged as he drew a pattern on the carpet with his shoe. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Can’t remember nothing else.”
“If you’re not happy, you must tell me, Bartholomew. And I will help you.”
His eyes widened. “You would help me?”
“I would.”
Bartholomew looked about the room as if someone was about to leap out from behind the curtains and accuse him of treachery.
“I need your help, Bartholomew,” Edward said, “I wish to speak to a certain lady, but it must remain a secret. Are you good with secrets?”
Bartholomew’s face broke into a brilliant smile. “Yes, my lord.”
Edward crossed to a cabinet, where he located pen and paper. He scratched a quick message. “Take this to Lady Honor.”
He handed the note to the page, then placed a finger to his lips for emphasis.
Bartholomew’s chest swelled with importance. He tucked the coin Edward gave him into a pocket. With the note scrunched in his small hand, he scurried from the room.
Making his way down through the gardens, Edward walked along a path bordered by a high yew hedge to the wooden garden seat he’d spied earlier, sheltered from prying eyes. Breathing in the fragrance of a flowering shrub nearby, he sat, laid an arm along the back of the seat, and crossed his legs. Honor might not come. She might be resting her ankle, or she might have company. It would be difficult to speak to her during the evening, however, especially now that the duke was suspicious.
The afternoon sun slanted through the elm trees. Edward watched a curlew wander around an ornamental pond, digging in the mud with its long, slender beak.
Honor appeared, wrapped in a dark cape, walking carefully across the lawn. Edward stood. “My lady. I’m pleased you could come.”
“I can’t stay long.” She sat beside him and pulled her cloak tighter, her cheeks flushed pink. “It was kind of you to assist me earlier.”
“It was nothing. I happened upon you while out riding.” He wondered if she swallowed the lie. She did not know him well enough to be aware of how odd his behavior had become. He almost grinned. What would Sibella make of it?
“Oh. Well,” she said with a puzzled frown, “I am most grateful, my lord. I was surprised to find you here in Cornwall.”
“I came to keep my friend, Thomas Warne, company. He has business with the duke.” Edward slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out a thick wad of banknotes wrapped in brown paper. “And as I learned you were here, I brought your money. In ten-pound and twenty-pound banknotes, as you wished.”
“How splendid!” She took the package from him, her brown eyes shining. She looked dashed pretty with tendrils of hair the color of dark toffee dancing on the breeze. An impulse to kiss her fought with the urge to seize her by her shoulders and give her a good shaking. The impulse to shake her won, and his fingers itched. He had
n’t felt this frustrated since he was a youth and his most annoying sister, Cordelia, had nagged him up hill and down dale until he agreed to attend her harp recital.
“I hope you don’t think I approve,” he said, “and that you’ll think twice about such a reckless course of action.”
Her dark eyes grew shadowed. “You would prefer I marry Morven?”
He would not. The urge to kiss her returned with force, surprising him. He crossed his arms. “You promised to notify me before you take any action.”
Honor glanced up at him from under her dark lashes. “Why are you being so…obliging?”
He frowned, disconcerted. “I suppose it’s because I have four sisters who’ve needed my help on occasion.”
She nodded. “I must go. I will be missed.” She rose from the seat and tucked the package into the folds of her cape. Conspiratorial humor brightened her eyes and lifted her lips in a brief smile. “I am supposed to be resting my ankle.”
He stood with an answering smile, relieved to see her mood lighten. “I’m glad you weren’t badly hurt.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
She turned and hurried back to the house.
Edward watched her slim figure disappear into the lime walk. He strolled after her. How precarious lives could become, especially when one had so little control over one’s destiny.
He wasn’t thinking just of Honor, but of the small page.
Chapter Nine
Faith popped her head in the door. “Are you still in your chemise? You are slower than that turtle we saw at the museum.”
“I shan’t be long. You go down with Mama and Father,” Honor said.
While the maid was busy laying out her olive-green evening gown, Honor wrapped the money in a shawl and hid it at the bottom of her luggage.
Once she was dressed, a footman escorted her to the drawing room where Faith and her parents had gathered. She was relieved to find the duke had not yet made an appearance.
Her stepfather’s glance was sharp. “Your gown looks plain, Honor. Why aren’t you wearing your ruby earrings?”
She started. “I didn’t think it wise to pack them. Highwaymen might hold up the carriage.”
He snorted. “Perhaps you fear we’ll be set upon by smugglers? As you can see, your mother wears her diamonds.” He sighed and shook his head. “I find your taste in fashion uncomely.”
“But my dear,” her mother protested. “Rubies would not go with Honor’s gown.”
Faith’s brow puckered. “Honor’s good looks need little adornment, Father.”
“Be quiet, Faith,” he said, “This has nothing to do with you. You always look well turned-out.”
“I’m sorry to have disappointed you, sir,” Honor said quickly, before Faith became the recipient of his bad humor. Faith handled their father far better than she did, however. Honor wished she could learn the knack.
Morven strode into the room. He looked over at them clustered on chairs around the huge stone fireplace, and his eyes grew wild. “What is this? Has no one served my guests wine?” He gestured to the footman. “Fetch Babbage.”
“We haven’t been here for more than a minute, Your Grace,” her stepfather said.
Morven turned his back on him without comment. When the butler, Babbage, hurried in, the duke rounded on him, the force of his wrath quite disproportionate to the crime. Everyone in the room grew silent; even her stepfather looked aghast. The poor butler seemed to shrink into himself as he rushed to comply.
Honor winced when the duke, his face mottled, joined her on the ornately-carved walnut sofa covered in crimson velvet. The butler hurried to serve him, and he drank the wine quickly. Then his gaze roamed over her from her beaded slippers to the simple arrangement of her hair. “Charmingly understated, my dear,” he said approvingly. “I detest seeing a woman overdressed. It suggests an unattractive vanity. One must learn to be frugal in all things in this life, to prepare oneself for the next.”
Honor looked down to hide her horror of this man. She clasped her hands together, as they’d started shaking, more from anger than distress. Such hypocrisy! She doubted the duke went without much in the way of comforts. Would her stepfather see what sort of man he was and change his mind about their marriage? Or did he not care a jot for her? She glanced in his direction, but his blank expression told her nothing.
Edward entered the room, handsome in his dark-blue coat obviously stitched by a Bond Street tailor, with coral buttons decorating his white shirt. A heavy fob chain hung on his embroidered silver waistcoat, and dark trousers hugged his long legs.
A fair-haired gentleman in a brown coat followed him into the room.
Edward introduced Mr. Warne to the assembled party. Honor dragged her eyes away from Edward to greet his friend, a man in his twenties. Warne’s gaze swung past her to alight on Faith in her dainty primrose gown, and settled with obvious interest. Honor thought his smile wolfish and didn’t trust him an inch, while Faith looked a good deal happier than she’d been since they’d arrived. Their father would not be pleased should something come of it. Mr. Warne was untitled and here on business, Edward had said.
Dinner was announced. The duke tucked her arm in his and escorted her to the dining room. Despite the room’s large proportions, the overall effect was claustrophobic, with dark beams across the low ceiling. Candles flickered from every surface, but the rifle-green velvet curtains, walnut furniture and deep carpet seemed to absorb all the light. Above the walnut wainscoting, the wallpaper was the same dark green, hung with indistinct oil paintings.
Following behind her, Edward ducked his head to enter through the low doorway.
The duke had asked Honor and her mother to act as his hostesses. He seated them each side of him at the head of the table. Her stepfather sat next to Honor with Edward across the table from her beside her mother. Faith and Mr. Warne were seated opposite each other further down the table.
The butler hovered with the wine carafe, filling crystal glasses while the covers for the first course appeared. An opulent array of food was arranged on the table. After the first remove, the footman served one dish. A fish’s clouded eye seemed to stare reproachfully at Honor from her plate. She was conscious of the duke’s gaze resting on her, as did her stepfather’s, and her appetite deserted her.
“Eat up, my dear. The fish was caught this morning,” the duke said. “I won’t allow anything but the freshest food served at my table.”
Honor hadn’t cared for fish ever since a fish bone had lodged in her throat. She swallowed down the burst of hysteria threatening to bubble up.
Edward’s calm gaze met hers. His green eyes held a hint of sympathy. She bit her lip as her inner voice warned her to be careful of her affections. Edward had proved to be a generous man. Perhaps, as he said, he was merely motivated to aid a woman in trouble. She just wished his handsome eyes didn’t search hers in that fashion, as if they shared a secret. Aware that they did, her nerve endings tingled and her breath hitched. She almost jumped when the duke spoke to her, declaring that as her ankle appeared to cause her little trouble walking, they would ride again tomorrow.
“I look forward to seeing more of the park,” she said, forcing a smile. “Faith has expressed a wish to ride also.”
Faith rallied to support her. “Perhaps Lord Edward and Mr. Warne will join us,” she said and smiled at Mr. Warne. “We can get up a party.”
“Excellent idea, Lady Faith, if His Grace permits,” Edward said. “I’m keen to sample another of your fine horses.”
The duke gave a sour smile. “Then we shall all ride before luncheon.”
Honor glanced at the duke’s profile. He’d thrust out his sharp chin. She didn’t trust him and was determined to keep him at arm’s length. Two more days and they would return to Highland Manor.
“I suggest a game of whist after dinner,” Lord Edward said, with a glance in her direction.
As Honor prepared for bed, Faith clambered onto the high four-poster be
d in her nightgown. She sat with her knees drawn up and studied the bed curtains, an unattractive red-colored cloth, with distaste, and shuddered dramatically. “I declare these bed curtains are the color of blood.”
“You drank several glasses of Madeira tonight,” Honor remarked. “And you drank at least two more glasses while we played cards. I pray you don’t snore.”
Faith giggled as she snuggled under the covers. “Fancy Lord Edward being here.”
“He accompanied Mr. Warne.”
“Still, it’s an odd coincidence.” Faith coiled a lock of her hair, which had escaped from her cap, around her finger. “Mr. Warne is nice, don’t you think?”
At the mirror, Honor dealt with a tangled knot. “He is not the sort of husband Father would want for you. It would be unwise to set your cap at him.”
Faith screwed up her nose. “I was merely commenting on his appearance.”
Honor knew Faith enjoyed the effect she had on men, as every young woman emerging from the schoolroom did. By the time they returned home, she would have forgotten Mr. Warne. Honor frowned at herself in the mirror. Mr. Warne would need to keep his distance. He had flirted openly with her sister tonight, and she thought him ambitious.
“I think Lord Edward likes you,” Faith said.
Honor paused, brush in hand, and stared at Faith’s reflection. “What makes you think so?”
“While we played cards, his eyes rarely left your face.”
“He was most likely trying to work out what cards I held.”
“He didn’t watch me.”
Honor put down the brush and braided her hair. She climbed into bed beside Faith. “I’m surprised you had time to take note of it and play cards at the same time.”
“I knew we would win. I had the best card player in England on my side.”
Honor laughed. “What nonsense.”
“When you declared a misère ouverte, and won every trick, I wondered at Lord Edward’s expression. He looked so shocked that we might have been playing for high stakes!”
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