The Return of Lady Honoria (5 page)

“Can you walk?” Danton spared her a quick
look.

Honoria bit her lip uncertainly. “Yes.”

“Wait for me near the door.”

Something clanged at the far end of the room,
but Honoria couldn’t focus. It was the corset, it had to be the
corset—she had to get it off! She staggered to her feet and leaned
against the wall, fumbling at the luxurious white leather with
hands that didn’t want to work.

A hand clamped over her arm and abruptly
pulled her to the door. “Wait until we’re in the carriage. You
won’t get it off that way.”

The halls were a kaleidoscope of staring eyes
and doorways. Honoria stumbled beside Danton, dragged by his
implacable grip.

After the manor’s smoky golden light
moonlight was a shock to her system. Danton threw her up into his
carriage and pushed Goliath in after her.

“Stay down,” he said urgently.

The door locked shut and they were off,
bouncing and rattling down the drive. Gunfire broke out as they
neared the gatehouse, and they were through, barreling down the
isolated country lane with Danton at the reins laughing.

The slow, steady sway of the carriage lulled
Honoria to sleep. She fell asleep curled into a thick traveling
blanket and woke to find Danton cutting the corset from her.

“You’ll feel sick for a day or two. Give it
some time.”

Honoria nodded, eyes fixed on her tightly
laced fingers. What
did
one say in an instance like this?
Danton tucked the blanket in at her sides and lifted the back of
her hand to his lips.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked, watching her
over her sadly bruised knuckles.

“
No!
Yes—no, only a little.” She
frowned, mouth tucked in tight. “I don’t know how I feel,” she said
finally. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I was so angry at
you.”

“I gave you fair warning.”

She pulled her hand back and curled it down
into the blanket. “I’m not a child. Don’t treat me like one.”

“This is my life, Honoria! People like
this—what I do. Why the devil didn’t you stay in the country?”

She couldn’t stop her reaction as she pulled
him down to her. His coat scratched her still sensitive nipples,
but she didn’t care, holding him so tight she thought she’d
dissolve into his unyielding chest. She had no words and neither
did he, but after a dark, uncertain minute he held her back.

****

Honoria trudged down to dinner. It was turbot
again, one of the few things her mother allowed Honoria to eat in
excess, claiming meat made her spotty. The pale white fish was
delicately poached and set en gelee, but Honoria had no
appetite.

It was Danton’s fault. After dropping her off
three nights ago, he’d disappeared—off to God knew where without a
word, running from her as if she was contagious.

Drat them all
and
Danton.

She was going to reach the age of majority,
take her money and travel the world like Hester Stanhope.
She
wouldn’t be stuck eating turbot while Danton went off to
do whatever it was he did without her. A tear fell off her nose. A
glance down the table told her Eugenie was still wallowing in rare
beef and talking about horses. Not that Honoria could make out more
than an occasional word across fifteen feet of starched linen.

Honoria quickly turned her head and dabbed
her eyes with her sleeve. “I need some air.”

“Fine,” grunted her father, “get out.”

Which was apparently a signal because the
servants removed her plate, pulled her chair back, opened the door,
dumped her out and slammed the door shut again, leaving her in the
hall.

“You have an interesting family,” Danton said
from where he leaned at the far end of the hall.

Honoria tried to walk past him, but her feet
started dragging until they stopped.

“I don’t have a disgust of you,” he said. “I
know that’s what you thought.”

Honoria finally gave up and wiped her nose on
her skirt. She was sure her entire face was red. She couldn’t stop
crying. “I don’t care
what
you think! Just go away. You’re
good at that, aren’t you?”

“Honoria, for your own good—”

“Don’t use that phrase with me! I’m sick of
people telling me—Danton!”

Danton settled her over his shoulder and
locked an arm over the back of her thighs. “Moderate your tone,
dear heart. We’re drawing attention.”

“Moderate my tone? You ramshackle here and
therein! Put me down before I scream the roof down.”

Danton walked across the hall to where a door
to the terrace stood open. “Perhaps you’d like to do it outside,”
he said, dropping her rather inelegantly.

Her hands clenched in the soft fabric over
his rapidly beating heart and shoved him away violently. “I really
did enjoy it—even the part where I wanted to beat Goliath to a
bloody pulp. How can you even
think
of wanting me?”

“
Michel was my lover!”

“Obviously! He all but suckled you.”

Danton made a strange noise, choking and
snorting until he sank to the ground, face buried in his hands.
There was very little light and the soft, distant clatter of carts
made the rear of the house feel isolated.

Honoria knelt beside him surprised to find
she was crying. “Danton?”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“You told him it’s over. It’s his own fault
if he can’t listen.”

He pulled her into his arms and held her
convulsively.

“Ouch!” she said.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Still hurt?”

“I suspect it’s a little bruised,” she said,
lifting his hand back to her breast.

“I’m glad I went to that house party,” he
said after a long minute. “For better or for worse, love—you’ve
thrown your lot in with mine. And it might be selfish of me, but
I’m grateful.”

Honoria shivered. “Don’t jinx us.”

“Not a jinx, Honoria.” Danton’s lips touched
hers. “A blessing.”