His Lordship's Chaperone (16 page)

Simon sat quietly before his answer came forth.
“Lady Honoria.”

“Honoria Darlington?” It was fortunate Haverton was
already seated, he might have fallen over at the news.

A curt nod was Simon’s answer.

“I don’t believe it, you’re in love with her.” By
God, he was, Haverton realized. And he knew the signs of a man in love well.
The thought of Honoria Darlington—no, he didn’t want to think about her. “She’s
been after me, you know.”

Simon stared at his elder brother in amazement.
“It’s not her, it’s her mother. She only has eyes for you—her mother that is,
not Honoria. Lady Darlington won’t hear of anyone under the rank of an earl
paying court to her daughter. That leaves me out in the cold.”

“Of course. Why should she not?” Haverton offered
in his usual cool tone. “Is she not sweet, beautiful, and charming? And her
kisses, that of an angel’s.” That’s how he had described Catherine. Would Simon
believe his beloved had any fewer qualities?

Simon straightened in alarm. “You do want her for
yourself!”

“Lady Honoria?” Haverton stood, stepping away from
Simon and heading for his desk. “Heavens, no.”

“What’s all this talk of her being a sweet,
charming girl about then?”

Simon’s infatuation with her was worse than the
Marquess had thought. Haverton couldn’t even make a joke about it. This younger
brother was serious about his feelings for Honoria, and he was clearly jealous.

“I am sympathizing with you.” Haverton sat on the
edge of his desk. “I know exactly what you’re going through. I thought life had
come to an end when Mother took Catherine away. Don’t you remember? I was
miserable.”

The despondent look in Simon’s eyes told Haverton
that he remembered and that he, too, had experienced the same.

“I wouldn’t wish the same for you. If only … if
only …” An idea began to grow. “Perhaps there is something I can do to help
the two of you.”

“Help us?” Interested, Simon abandoned his chair
and approached his brother. “What do you have in mind?”

Haverton thrummed his fingers on the surface of the
desk, wondering if deviousness ran in the family—if it did, he was certain it
was from the maternal side.

“I will pretend to court Honoria,” Haverton
proposed.

“Exactly how will your pretending to court Honoria
help me?”

Did Haverton imagine that look in Simon’s eyes? Or
did he still believe the Marquess wanted her all to himself? “Her mother will
see me, not you, call for Honoria. What she won’t see is the Moreland brothers
changing places in a location of our choosing.”

“Yes, I see.” A conspiratorial spark glinted in
Simon’s eye.

Sitting at his desk, Haverton pulled a sheet of
paper from his drawer and penned a note. “How’s a drive this afternoon sound?”

“Today?” Clearly Simon was not prepared for this
immediate action.

“I’d wager that if I made you wait to see her a
single hour more than necessary it would drive you straight to Bedlam.”

“You do understand.”

“I’d best be off to bed if I were you. I imagine
you’d wish to look your best for Honoria.” Haverton smiled. “Not that she would
ever think less of you with dark circles rimming your eyes.”

“To bed, yes, that sounds excellent.” Simon ran
around the desk to shake his brother’s hand. “This is wonderful. You can’t
imagine what this means to me, Robert.”

“I think I do.” If only courting Catherine had been
this easy. The way things were going, he’d never had a chance to court her at
all. “I’ll have this delivered in the morning,” indicating the note. “I’ll meet
you at the corner of Park and Green Streets at half past three. And there, my
dear brother, you shall see your beloved Honoria.” Haverton nudged Simon away.
“Now off with you.”

“I shan’t sleep a wink, I tell you.” Simon pulled
open the door to leave. “Not one wink.”

Simon wouldn’t be the only one, Haverton mused. He
was to see Catherine soon. Alone. He, too, was far from sleep. What was he ever
going to do to pass the time until then?

What an exquisite display of flora. The Duchess of
Waverly had never seen so many flowers in her house. Roses in various colors of
red, pink, and white, pure white hothouse gardenias by the dozen, and camellias
of various hues were some of the few she could readily recognize. Which of
these tributes to Catherine was from Robert, the Duchess wondered. What would
this Rogue of the Realm, as she had heard him frequently referred to, send the
woman he was to marry?

“Oh, my!” Catherine stood at the foot of the stairs
and held onto the post to steady her from the amazing sight below. “Where did
all these flowers come from?”

“
Your
many admirers, my
dear.” The Duchess understood that Catherine had no notion of the social
rituals.

“Admirers? But there are so many.” Nor did
Catherine recognize how much of a success she was.

“If Robert’s not careful, you may change your mind
about marrying him and decide on someone else.”

Catherine blushed. “I hardly think that is possible.”

The Duchess smiled, her comment was all in fun. “Of
course not. We both know how you feel, am I correct?”

Catherine’s shy smile told the Duchess everything
she needed to know. This young woman was, indeed, in love with her son. She
motioned to Catherine to come near.

“Shall we take a closer look?”

Catherine pulled the card from a bunch of violets
sitting low on the table, almost hidden by the thick, leafy green neighbors.
“This is from Lord Peter Drysdale.”

“Drysdale, you say?” The Duchess was neither
impressed by Lord Peter nor his offering of violets. She extracted a card from
a tall arrangement of red roses. The card was from Sir Samuel
Allensby
. She didn’t think much of
Allensby
but his offering was more of what the Duchess had in mind. Nothing was too good
for her goddaughter.

“These orchids are from William, Lord
Tetridge
,” Catherine read another.

Orchids from Lord
Tetridge
?
That was very well done of him. Very well done. The Duchess had never seen such
a collection of exquisite, exotic blooms in her life.

Catherine opened a small box and tears welled in
her eyes.

“What is that?” the Duchess asked, most anxious to
know who had had the audacity to send a gift.

“Honeysuckle,” Catherine whispered, holding the
lavender-colored, ribbon-bound sprigs to her nose. “It’s from Haverton.”

“Honeysuckle? Why on earth would he …” the Duchess
groaned. “I would have thought Robert would have more sense in that pretty head
of his than to send a common—” She was halted by the tears trickling down
Catherine’s cheeks.

The image of Catherine inhaling the pink and yellow
flowers with her eyes closed and a smile of contentment made the Duchess take
back every word.

Judging from Catherine’s reaction to his offering, Robert
knew exactly what he was doing.

Catherine couldn’t believe Haverton had remembered
her fondness for honeysuckle over roses. Its presence certainly had caught her
off guard. It seemed as if ages had passed since they’d walked in his garden
and she had confessed a preference for them.

Male voices in the foyer caught her attention.

“Compose yourself. Robert’s here.”

Catherine sniffed and wiped her eyes only moments
before Haverton stepped into the room. His eyes brightened when he spotted her.

Haverton greeted his mother first and kissed her
hand. Continuing past her, he reached out to Catherine. “My dear,” he murmured
no louder than a whisper. The smile on his face reflected genuine pleasure.
“Your touch makes my hollow existence whole again.” He refused to release her
hand and drew her near. She willingly went.

“Your mother is present,” Catherine cautioned him.

“She knows what I’ve had to withstand and I’m sure
she’ll allow us a bit of privacy.” He glanced at her from under an arched brow.

“Of course, dear,” Her Grace replied. “But
remember, you are not as yet wed. So do take care.”

“I promise to behave myself.” He smiled and laid
Catherine’s hand through his arm, escorting her from the room to the adjoining
terrace where he merely gazed at her.

“What is it? Why are you staring at me?”

“I apologize. It’s just that I am simply amazed at
your transformation.”

Had it not pleased him? Had he preferred the drab
long brown hair and serge she wore to the new golden locks, lace, and silk?

“I’m not complaining in the least, but when I look
at you I no longer see Mrs. Hayes.”

“No? Who do you see?” She hoped he wasn’t
disappointed. Catherine had tried her best to represent the socially acceptable
woman he would be expected to marry.

He took a moment longer to regard her. “There is a
remarkable air of confidence about you. You have the bearing and poise of a
different woman. Wherever did she come from?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Do you disapprove?”

“I think she might have been hiding under a pair of
spectacles and a tight bun.” Haverton leaned closer and whispered. “I must
admit I am glad she’s decided to come out and make herself known.”

Had she changed that much? Catherine wouldn’t have
believed there would be such a marked difference by altering only her hair and
wardrobe.

“I could hardly wait for the hours to pass until I
saw you again. I had hoped to fall asleep last night, at least for a few hours,
but I couldn’t. I stepped outside and strolled the path by the rose garden. Do
you remember? You had the misfortune of getting your skirts tangled, and I had
the good fortune to help you free yourself, and in turn, help myself to a
glimpse of your shapely ankle.” Catherine gasped. “You did not peek!”

“I’m afraid I did.” His self-conscious smile
betrayed the embarrassment of his confession.

“And I thought you were a gentleman.”

“Don’t ask me why but I feel closer to you when I’m
in the garden. This morning the breeze carried the scent of honeysuckle and I
remembered you saying how much you loved its sweet fragrance.”

He truly had remembered.

“I procured a few sprigs, found a bit of your
ribbon to bind the stems and sent them with my warmest regards.”

My ribbon? Catherine thought she’d recognized it.
It had been hers. One that, no doubt, had been inadvertently left behind.

“I can hardly wait for the day we are married and
settled comfortably into Moreland Manor. Your absence is most greatly felt. How
I long to gaze at you across the breakfast table and sketch your likeness in
the evenings while you sew. I’ve missed our afternoon strolls in the garden,”
he announced, as if the time since their last walk had been an eternity.

“We only had but one,” she reminded him, trying not
laugh.

“Nevertheless I look forward to making a
turn about
the garden our daily routine. And how I’ve missed
hearing you play.”

“Play?” Catherine had to think a bit. “Oh,
practicing on the pianoforte.”

“I miss hearing your music more than I ever thought
was possible.”

“If you could call that music. I play horribly.”
Catherine had nearly forgotten she’d spent time at the keyboard. Only a few
hours, in fact, practicing the piece Simon had given her.

“Nonsense, I thought you were progressing quite
splendidly.”

“You are too kind,” she replied before realizing
that the Marquess of Haverton was never overly kind to anyone. For him to make
such an exception for her would mean that she, Catherine, was not just anyone
to him.

Lady Darlington observed the Marquess of Haverton’s
seal upon the proffered note and could barely maintain her usual composure but
did so until the footman left the breakfast room. Breaking the missive open,
she scanned the contents and screeched with joy, blubbering excitedly, unable
to utter a single word.

“Mama, Mama, what is it?” Honoria’s cup of hot
chocolate slipped from her fingers and dropped onto its saucer.

Lady Darlington snatched her linen napkin off her
lap and dropped it on the table next to her empty plate. “Oh, my dear! Oh, my
dear! This is the best possible news.”

“Mama?”

“Quickly—we must make haste—you must be ready!”
Lady Darlington pushed away from the table and rushed to Honoria, prying her
away from her seat. “Come now, we must see to your toilette.”

“But Mama, I have just finished my morning toilette,”
Honoria answered as her mother ushered her out of the breakfast room into the
hallway.

“There is no time to waste, he will be here soon.”

“Who? Who is coming?”

“Don’t dawdle, girl. We must make haste. Your hair
must shine—it must have at least a thousand strokes of the brush.”

Honoria stood at the bottom of the stairs. “I shall
not move another inch until you tell me what is happening.”

Lady Darlington threw her hands up. “It is the
Marquess of Haverton—he will arrive at three to take you driving.”

Honoria blanched.

“I can hardly believe it. My little Honoria and
Lord Haverton at Hyde Park for all to see.” She pulled a concealed handkerchief
from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “I am so very happy.”

“Lord Haverton is calling? Here? For me?”

“His note says he will arrive at three in the
afternoon to take you driving. How this happened, I do not know, but I will not
question my good fortune.”

“Yes, I must go to my room.” She raced up the
stairs, outrunning her mother.

Finally the girl was seeing the right of the
matter. Was it possible she had changed her mind about the Marquess? She seemed
to be quite anxious about his call.

“Wear your new chip bonnet, the one with the pale
blue ribbons. It will show off your eyes to perfection.”

After reaching her room, Honoria faced her mother.
“I will not step foot out of this room.”

“What did you say?” Lady Darlington had worked very
hard to this end. She was not about to let her
birdwitted
,
upstart of a daughter stand in her way of claiming the Marquess.

“I said, I refuse.” Honoria planted herself on the
bed and crossed her arms. “I will not see him.”

Lady Darlington stepped toward her daughter and
threatened, “You will do as you are told.”

“I am so very pleased that you accepted my
invitation on such short notice, Lady Honoria.” Haverton bowed over her hand,
doing his utmost to portray the ideal suitor, and kept in mind that his brother
would probably thrash him if he did not behave as a gentleman should.

“She is quite honored that you should ask, my lord,”
Lady Darlington answered for her daughter. “I had no idea you had the least bit
of interest in my little Honoria.”

It was quite clear to Haverton that Lady Darlington
was trying her utmost not to appear overly pleased. If the Countess had the
slightest notion of the real reason he was here, she’d have thrown him out and
slammed the door in his face. The only person Haverton intended to please was
Simon.

Within ten minutes, Honoria sat next to the
Marquess and they were on their way to the intersection of Park and Green
Streets. Where, unbeknownst to Honoria, her afternoon drive in the park would
take a dramatic turn for the better. Or so Haverton hoped.

The chit was sulking. What did Simon see in this
girl? How he could have fallen for this timid mouse, Haverton would never
understand. She hadn’t made so much as a sound or acknowledged his presence
since they had started. How inexplicably rude.

“Ah, here we are now, my pet.” Haverton brought the
curricle to a halt and Simon ran out to greet them.

“Simon!” Honoria cried in complete shock. “Whatever
are you doing here?”

Haverton climbed out, leaving the ribbons and
forthcoming explanation to his brother.

Simon greeted Honoria with a kiss to her hand and
settled into the driver’s seat next to her. “I’m sorry there wasn’t time to
explain but this is all Haverton’s idea. He knew your mother wouldn’t allow me
to call on you so he thought he might call on you himself and after your mother
watched you leave in his care, I would take his place.”

“That is absolutely brilliant!” Honoria pronounced.

“I wish you to remember, Simon. She is in my care,”
Haverton cautioned.

“Do not worry, I would never let anything harm
Honoria.” Simon gazed into her wide, blue eyes.

Haverton cleared his throat, interrupting the
couple’s mooning. “Shall I meet you back here in, let’s say, an hour?”

“An hour it is, and thank you again, Robert.” Simon
picked up the ribbons and signaled the horses forward.

“Thank you so much, Lord Haverton.” Honoria waved
good-bye.

Haverton watched them leave. Was there nothing more
delightful than seeing two people in love?

The Duchess was elated, although it was not
completely unexpected, that Catherine was so popular in society. Tonight at the
Stoddard’s ball, she held court with no fewer than five young men, all vying
for her attention. What Her Grace wanted to know was why Robert was not one of
them. His presence would chase the young bucks off in an instant.

“I trust you have saved a dance for Robert as I’ve
instructed?” the Duchess inquired.

“Yes,
Your
Grace.”

“It’s about time he made his intentions known.”
Spotting her younger son among the guests in the crowd, the Duchess of Waverly
set out in his direction while continuing to scan the room for her eldest.

With a rap of her closed fan upon his shoulder, she
caught Simon’s attention. “Where has that brother of yours gotten himself off
to?”

“At the moment, he’s dancing with Lady Honoria,”
Simon said with absolute calm and with more than a passing interest in the
couple.

“Dancing with Honoria Darlington?” the Duchess
gasped outraged. She spotted them on the dance floor and muttered, “That simpering,
empty-headed—”

“Mother, Lady Honoria is a most agreeable young
lady.”

The Duchess swung her gaze from Robert and turned a
skeptical eye onto Simon. Did he think so, indeed? She detected something more
going on here but she did not have time to concern herself with his apparent
interest at present.

What did Robert think he was doing? By ignoring
Catherine and dancing with the Darlington girl he would give everyone the wrong
impression. She would box his ears for this. She might ring a peal over his head
for this behavior but she doubted he would pay any notice to that, either.

The Duchess glanced over her shoulder. Catherine
stood nearby and, by the expression she wore, had heard everything. Robert was
not the only one to be scolded for errors. The Duchess realized she had made a
mistake by allowing Catherine to see.

“I find it very hard to believe that even Robert
would be heartless enough to treat you in such a manner,” Her Grace remarked.

Catherine said nothing.

“You cannot allow him to continue on this way.”

“I have no hold over him, Your Grace. He is free to
do as he wishes.”

The Duchess caught Catherine’s cool expression.
“You are mistaken, my dear. To the ton, Robert may appear to be unattached but
we know better, do we not?”

Again
Catherine said nothing.

“If he insists on straying, I can only suggest that
you are free to do the same. As we have discussed this afternoon, you have
plenty of suitors. May I suggest you pay particular attention to Lord
Tetridge
or Sir Alex
Pemberton.
Robert should do well to have a taste of his own medicine.”

The Duchess could tell that her tactics did not
please Catherine. She wasn’t even sure if the girl would entertain the notion
of stringing the suitors along to capture Robert’s attention.

“I want you to tell your elder brother that his
mother, the Duchess, would like a word with him,” she informed Simon after
Catherine had stepped away.

Lady Darlington stood to one side of the dance
floor, smiling as she watched Haverton dance with her daughter. Counting her
chickens before they hatched was a dangerous thing to do—and the Duchess of
Waverly would bet Lady Darlington was doing exactly that.

She’d heard gossip about Haverton and Lady Honoria—but
it wasn’t true. He had promised to marry Catherine—he said himself he was in
love with her.

So what did Robert think he was doing?

“How is the courtship progressing?” Haverton asked
while on the dance floor with Honoria.

“Mother still has the notion you are courting me,”
she admitted, less shyly.

“It would serve us best if you allowed her to go on
believing just that.”

Honoria nodded. The shine of love sparkled in her
eyes. Love for Simon. Haverton knew it was love, he had seen the same shimmer
in Catherine’s eyes when she looked at him.

“Now that we have shared a dance, I imagine you can
expect me to call on you tomorrow afternoon. Shall we say the same time?”

Honoria blushed and smiled, gazing demurely up at
him. “Yes, nothing would please me more. I cannot wait until I see Simon again.
Until tomorrow.”

Simon stood to one side for Haverton, acknowledging
Honoria with a smile and a nod of his head. “I am here to deliver a message
from Mother.”

“Uh, oh.”

“Your mother, the Duchess, wishes a word. I believe
she means to put the fear of God into you. You’ve done something to displease
her, all right.”

“Too late to put things to right, I’ll wager. Well
there’s nothing to be done about it now. I might as well see what she wants.”

Simon caught Haverton by the arm. “Have you made
the arrangements with Honoria?”

“Do not fret. The arrangements for tomorrow,” he
smiled, “have been taken care of.”

Catherine strolled by the chaperones’ corner, the
place she usually spent her time while at these functions, and slowed to hear
what they were saying.

“My dear Miss Trueblood, have you heard about Lady
Henrietta?” said the one Catherine recognized as Miss Price.

“What is it?” Miss Trueblood inquired. “What have
you heard?”

“I have heard that Miss Henrietta Lonsdale has set
her cap for the Marquess of Haverton.”

Miss Price and Miss Trueblood shared an enjoyable
laugh. Mrs. Baldwin did not look pleased.

“Any one of these lovely young ladies could make do
as his marchioness—but who could keep hold on him as husband?” Miss Trueblood
continued.

“As if he could be truly the least bit interested
in her.” The knowing looks and understanding nods of their heads replaced the
matrons’ girlish giggles of only moments ago.

“True—very true, Miss Trueblood.”

“Lady Darlington and I believe that our Honoria
would make a splendid marchioness,” said Mrs. Baldwin.

“There is nothing wrong with your charge, mind you.”
Miss Trueblood placed a comforting hand upon Mrs. Baldwin. “If one wishes to
become Lady Haverton, one must become accustomed to Haverton’s nature.”

“And his nature being?” Miss Price inquired.

“He is a man who cannot remain faithful to one
woman. It would be impossible for him, I fear.”

“Outrageous!” Mrs. Baldwin exclaimed. Her face
became as red as her hair. “What if he were to fall in love?”

“Gracious, Lord Haverton fall in love?” Miss Price
did not sound hopeful at the prospect. “He is a man! Do you think men believe
in such things?”

“I cannot imagine,” Miss Trueblood remarked. “I am
not sure if I believe in such a thing.”