Honor (27 page)

LaRouche raised his glass to her again. “Very clever.”

Robert frowned. “So Frick hired those men to lie.”

“To give the devil his due, it wasn’t his idea,” Honor said. “Out in the corridor after the trial, I overheard Frick calling Gordon a damn fool for insisting that they hire those men.”

Genevra’s eyes widened. “Gordon was responsible?”

Honor nodded. “He not only wanted you to lose, he wanted to exact revenge by depicting you as a loose woman. And he wanted it badly enough to disregard the advice of his expensive counsel.”

LaRouche shook his head in disgust.

Robert raised his glass to his wife, his green eyes shining with some emotion Honor couldn’t name. “That was also a clever strategy with the cards.”

His compliment amazed Honor; he gave her so few these days.

“I know I tried to discourage you from taking the case,” he went on, “but I can see now that I was wrong.” He toasted her again. “My apologies for doubting you.”

Honor didn’t know what to say. His apology in front of Nevada LaRouche and Genevra touched her deeply, for Robert was not a man to admit his mistakes easily. Perhaps he realized how much he had hurt her in the past, and this was his way of making amends.

Perhaps there was hope for their marriage after all.

Chapter Fourteen

One warm mid-September evening, Honor was about to sit down to dinner when Robert pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. “Oh, I almost forgot. This telegram came for you this morning. It’s from some doctor.”

The blood drained from Honor’s face when she read the cryptic message. She grasped the locket with shaking fingers. “Aunt Theo is ill. Her doctor wants me to come immediately.” She rose from the table, her thoughts scattered, her knees shaking, her soup untouched. “There has to be a night train leaving Grand Central for Boston.”

Robert looked peeved. “Do you have to leave this minute? You haven’t touched your supper.”

Her nerves stretched to the limit by shock and thoughts of impending disaster, Honor glared at him. “For all I know, my aunt may be dying. Of course I’m leaving tonight!” She headed for the dining room door, stopped, and turned. “Will you come with me?”

“I can’t possibly get away,” he replied. “LaRouche wants me to go over some important contracts with him tomorrow morning.”

Honor tugged at her locket. “He’s a very understanding man. I’m sure he wouldn’t object to your taking several days off under the circumstances.”

Robert dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “I wouldn’t presume by asking for preferential treatment.”

“Robert, please come with me,” she said, hating the desperation in her voice. “I need you.”

He rose, crossed the room, and grasped her hands so tightly Honor winced. “Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? I’ve told you that I can’t possibly get away.”

“Perhaps if I asked Mr. LaRouche—”

“No!” He dropped her hands and stepped away, his sensuous mouth tightening into an obstinate line. “I can’t go with you, and that’s final.”

“Robert—”

“Damn it!” he roared. “Don’t argue with me!” He returned to his seat at the head of the table and resumed eating his soup. “Tell your aunt that I send my warmest regards and wish her a speedy recovery.”

Eyes blazing, Honor whirled on her heels and stormed out of the dining room. What a fool she had been to think he had changed. Men like Robert never changed, they merely altered course.

Passing the kitchen, she said, “Tilly, come to the bedroom at once. I’m leaving for Boston tonight and need you to help me pack.”

The maid looked up from carving the roast. “But madam, what about the master’s dinner?”

“It can get cold for all I care.”

“But it will only take me a minute to—”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? The master’s dinner can wait.”

A subdued Tilly set down the carving knife and followed.

Once in the bedchamber, Honor sat at her desk and dashed off an explanatory note to Elroy, telling him that she had been called away to Boston on a family matter. He should cancel her appointments and manage the office for a week or two. After she finished writing, a disturbing thought occurred to her. “Tilly, what time did the telegram arrive?”

Carefully folding a shirtwaist so its leg-o’-mutton sleeves wouldn’t be crushed in the suitcase, the maid replied, “Around ten o’clock this morning, madam.”

Honor slammed down her pen. “Dear God, Tilly! Why in heaven’s name didn’t you bring the telegram to my office immediately? Didn’t it ever occur to you that it might be important?”

The maid recoiled as if struck, and tears filled her eyes. “I brought it to Mr. Davis’s office the minute it arrived, madam. I thought if it contained bad news, your husband should tell you.”

Robert had known about her aunt’s illness all day. All day. And he hadn’t thought to inform Honor until tonight.

I will never forgive him for this, she thought. Never.

“I’m sorry for being such a shrew, Tilly,” she said after her anger died. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. My aunt has been like a mother to me, and I’m just worried about her.”

“That’s understandable, madam.”

Ten minutes later, after giving Tilly the letter to deliver to Elroy first thing tomorrow morning, Honor emerged from the bedchamber, her suitcase in hand. If she weren’t so desperate to leave, she would have given her husband a tongue-lashing he would never forget.

The moment Honor entered the dining room, Robert said, “Where is Tilly with the rest of my supper?”

“She had to pack for me,” Honor replied. “She’ll have the rest of your supper in a moment.”
And I hope it’s ice-cold.

Robert glanced at her suitcase. “All ready, are we?” He rose from the table and reached for her bag. “Let me take that downstairs for you.”

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Honor said coldly, grasping the handle as if preparing for a tug-of-war. “I can manage.” She headed for the door, adding over her shoulder, “I don’t know how long I shall stay in Boston.”

“Stay until your aunt recovers,” Robert said. Now that he had gotten his own way, he was all smiles and generosity. “Honor, wait.”

She turned, plainly irritated with the interruption.

Robert came over to her, grasped her arms above the elbow, and leaned forward to kiss her. Honor averted her face at the last moment and received a peck on the cheek.

“I have to be on my way,” she said, pulling away, delighted to see her husband’s startled look at her rebuff. “I shall miss my train.”

Without a good-bye or a smile, Honor left for Boston.

Not a carriage could be seen up or down Commonwealth Avenue, which was bathed in silvery moonlight, for it was past midnight by the time an exhausted, worried Honor arrived at her aunt’s brownstone. While the cab driver fetched her suitcase, she paused at the foot of the steps and felt a lump form in her throat as she stared up at dark windows.

Home.

She paid the driver, who lugged her suitcase up the steps and departed. Honor opened the front door with the key Aunt Theo has insisted she keep “just in case.” Once inside the foyer, Honor turned on the gaslight. To her relief, nothing had changed. The wainscoted walls still boasted the same mellow beeswax sheen. The silver salver on the hall table waited to receive calling cards. A welcoming warmth so lacking in her life enveloped her, and tears stung her eyes.

She lit a lamp, went up to the third floor, and knocked softly on her aunt’s door before calling, “Aunt Theo?” and opening it.

“Honor, is that you?” Light flooded the bedchamber as Theo lit a lamp, got out of bed, and hurried across the room.

“Yes,” Honor replied.

The two women quickly embraced, for they hadn’t seen each other for almost a year. When they parted, Theo held Honor at arm’s length. “Let me look at you.” Her dark, penetrating gaze assessed and stripped away Honor’s carefully cultivated defenses. “You don’t look happy.”

Theo didn’t look so well herself. Aside from an inordinately pale complexion, new lines of sadness deeply scored the corners of her eyes, while their depths held an emptiness that Honor knew only Wesley Saltonsall could fill. But Wes was gone, lost forever.

Honor ignored her aunt’s observation. “Never mind about me. What’s wrong with you? Are you going to be all right?”

Theo closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m in no danger. The doctor said I had a minor inflammation of the bowels. I was in such agony last night that the poor man panicked and sent you the telegram.” She smiled sheepishly. “I feel just like the boy who cried wolf. I’ve summoned you all the way to Boston when there was no need.”

“Nonsense. A visit to Boston is never wasted. I should have come back months ago, but I’ve been so busy.”

“Yes, I read about your successful divorce case, and I make a point of throwing it in Amos Grant’s pompous face at every opportunity.”

Honor smiled. “Well, now that I am here, I plan to stay until you’ve fully recovered.”

Theo looked over Honor’s shoulder. “It’s obvious that Robert didn’t come with you.”

“He couldn’t get away.”

“I see.”

Honor suspected that her aunt saw all too well.

Theo said, “You look exhausted. Why don’t you get some sleep and we can talk in the morning?”

Honor kissed her on the cheek and tiptoed out, going back to her old room, where she undressed quickly and tumbled into bed, putting all thoughts out of her exhausted mind.

Theo set down her coffee and said, “I have had quite enough. Sweet Portia, what’s wrong?”

Honor turned away from the fireplace. “Why, nothing.”

“Don’t ‘why, nothing’ me. You haven’t mentioned Robert once today. You’re a million miles away, and if you tug on that damn locket one more time, you’ll not only break the cord, I swear you’ll drive me clear out of my mind!” Theo rose in an agitated rustle of violet silk. “It’s not like you to keep secrets from me.”

Honor’s eyes filled with tears, but before they could fall, she brushed them away angrily with the back of her hand. “I’ve discovered that I take second place to my husband’s ambition.”

“That should not come as a shock to you. Most women do.”

Honor managed a bitter smile. “That may be true, but it’s still quite a humiliating experience, one I prefer to keep to myself. That’s why I haven’t told you.”

Theo made a soft sound of sympathy, led Honor to the sofa, and sat her down. “Talk. Perhaps I can offer my usual sage advice.”

Honor laced her fingers together to keep from tugging on her locket. “Robert says he loves me, but he always puts his concerns ahead of mine.”

Theo sipped her coffee and listened intently while Honor told her about the time Robert wanted her to keep her profession secret from his bosses, and then about how he had urged her to drop several cases so as not to incur the wrath of someone rich and powerful.

Honor stared down at her wedding ring when she related the next incident. “After I was beaten, Robert told me that if I hadn’t taken the divorce case, I wouldn’t have angered someone as powerful as Gordon Graham and I wouldn’t have been beaten.”

“Oh, my sweet Portia…”

Honor looked at her, tears stinging her eyes. “My own husband implied that I had brought such punishment on myself. My own husband!” Honor leaned back against the sofa. “When I so desperately needed him to comfort and defend me, all he could do was imply that I got exactly what I deserved.”

“My dear, I don’t know what to say.”

Honor smiled. “Did I ever tell you that the man who found me—Robert’s boss, Nevada LaRouche—later fought with the man he suspected of hiring those thugs?” When Theo shook her head, Honor said, “A stranger defended me. Not my own husband, but a man I barely knew and didn’t even fully trust.”

Theo placed a hand on Honor’s shoulder. “You’ve learned a hard, cruel lesson.”

Honor raised her head. “Robert never fails to disappoint me. When I most need him, he’s never there.”

Theo set down her coffee cup. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“Once, when we were arguing about my dropping the divorce case, but it was like talking to a brick wall.”

“Do you still love him?”

Honor sighed. “Part of me still loves the man I married, but another part of me does not love the man he has become.” She shook her head. “Sometimes it’s like living with a stranger, a cold, selfish stranger.”

Theo smoothed her skirt with a restless hand. “What do you intend to do now?”

“I can either accept the fact that Robert will never give me what I need, or”—she uttered the unthinkable—“I can leave him.”

“You know that you’re always welcome here with your old aunt.” Theo gave her an arch look. “But you’re hardly an old crone, my dear. You would marry again, perhaps to that Nevada person who championed you?”

Honor stared at her out of wide, shocked eyes. “What an absurd thought! He’s just like the man who destroyed my family.”