Cassandra sighed. “It’s true. If good breeding was all it took, we’d be wealthy.”
“We don’t need wealth,” Honoria said. “Although I must admit I would not complain if such a thing came to pass.”
“We will be just fine once Honoria gets the marquis to come about,” Portia said stoutly. “And then Cassandra can land a wealthy, well-connected husband and sponsor the rest of us and we can
all
find wealthy husbands.”
“Portia, I will not marry simply for money,” Cassandra said in gentle reproof.
“Of course you won’t,” Honoria said. “But if you are to fall in love, it might be just as easy to love a wealthy man as a poor one.”
“That is a very good way of looking at things,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “All one really needs is the opportunity.”
“Exactly,” Honoria said. “Well? Am I ready? Aunt Caroline said she’d send the carriage for me at eight and it is a quarter ‘til now.”
“You look wonderful,” Cassandra said in her gentle voice. “But… you wear brighter colors so much better than I do. You really should get a gown of red, although I daresay that would not be proper.”
Honoria smiled. “One day, I shall wear red. See if don’t, and to Hades to all the nay-sayers!”
Olivia sighed enviously. “I wish I could wear a ball gown and go to a real ball.”
“You are all mad,” George said, shaking his head. “Nothing could be more insipid than standing around a room, trussed in gewgaws and finery.”
Honoria smiled down at her brother. “You’ll change your tune in a few years, my dear.”
“I will not.” George pulled Achilles out of his pocket and placed the frog on the tip of his knee. “Achilles and I have no need for such silliness.”
“Yes well, I’m just glad Aunt Caroline was so accommodating,” Cassandra said.
Honoria preferred not to think about how difficult it had been to wrestle the invitation from Aunt Caroline. They’d exchanged several volleys of notes before the old bat had agreed to allow Honoria to attend the ball. Her aunt was suspicious of Honoria’s sudden interest in society and was positively determined to keep Cassandra from bursting upon the social scene and stealing the thunder from her own daughter.
Not that Cousin Jane would really suffer… Cassandra’s rare beauty would draw earls and dukes and marquises, not a one of which would ever pay Aunt Caroline’s poor daughter the slightest heed. Honoria had been forced to swear to her aunt that the invitation was for her only. To further throw her aunt off the scent, Honoria had concocted a story about Trey-mount admiring a certain object d’art and her hopes to gain his interest in it. Which was, now that she thought about it, not so very far from the truth.
“It’s a wonder Aunt Caroline helped at all,” Portia said, twisting her face into a moue of distaste.
Olivia sniffed. “Especially after she quite dashed poor Cassandra’s hopes.”
“She didn’t dash my hopes at all,” Cassandra said. “But I am glad she furnished Honoria with the invitation, although… Honoria, are you certain this is necessary?“
Honoria faced herself in the mirror, turning first this way and then that. “It is important to keep the ring in front of the not-so-merry marquis or he’ll decide to merely wait us out. If I can whet his appetite, he might just go ahead and purchase the blasted ring outright. Then all we’d need is an invitation or two. It would not take much at all, for Cassandra is so very pretty.”
Cassandra flushed. “I am no prettier than you. But I must question the wisdom of teasing the marquis so. Flashing the ring before him is certain to garner his ire. And Mrs. Kemble said he was quite a stern, unsmiling man.”
“Oh pother! Let him be irked unto death.” Honoria adjusted her paste tiara so it twinkled a bit more from between the curls piled on her head. “Facing a worthy adversary will do him a world of good. And I intend on being very, very good at opposing him. At least until he agrees to do as I have asked.”
Olivia chuckled. “If he thinks to outwit you, he’ll be sadly mistaken. You never could back down from a challenge.”
Juliet glanced up from where she sat curled on Honoria’s bed with her book. “Much to her detriment. Remember the time I told her she couldn’t swim across the lake and she—”
“Yes,” Honoria said, “and we don’t wish to hear that tired story again, thank you very much.”
“I’d like to hear it again” Olivia said.
Honoria eyed her sourly. “You would.”
Cassandra quickly intervened. “Fortunately for us all, Honoria has matured and can easily turn from a challenge now.”
“Oh?” Juliet asked, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “What about last month when—”
“Oh enough!” Honoria said, throwing up her hands. “Pray do not bring up every time I have lost my temper and agreed to some foolhardy task! It is a failing of mine, I agree. But I am much better than I used to be, and that is what matters.”
Cassandra shook her head. “I certainly hope so. I just hope that this time, with the marquis, you are not going too far. Can you not just write the man a letter and ask for another interview?”
“And make him think I’ve been sitting here, waiting on him for the last two days? No. I cannot do that. It will make me look desperate, and I am most definitely not.” Honoria gathered a shimmering wrap of silver that mirrored the silvered tips of her slippers, suddenly realizing that she’d not thought of the marquis’s devastating kiss the entire time she’d been dressing. It was yet another sign that she was doing the right thing. “I believe I am ready,” she said, drawing on her long gloves. “And while I appreciate all the concern you’ve been showing, please be aware that if there is one thing I understand, it is how to drive a bargain.”
“That’s true,” Olivia said. “Ned always said that Honoria was up to every rig and row in town and that he’d rather be eaten by one of those horrid snakes in Africa than face her on the auction floor.” She frowned. “I only wonder what he’d say about the marquis?”
Honoria fastened the small pearl button at the top of her gloves. “The problem with Treymount is that life has given him his way far too often and it has made him a little too certain of himself. Rather like an overfed lion, he thinks he has but to glare and we will all fall dead before him, ready to be eaten at his leisure.”
Cassandra stood and adjusted a ribbon at Honoria’s shoulder. “That sounds horrid, to be sure.”
“Oh, not really. Once I arrive at the ball, I shall twinkle the ring beneath his nose. Not much, but enough that he sees it. And then…” Honoria rubbed the silver ring with one finger through the thin material of her gloves, smiling at the warmth that tingled through her hand and arm.
“And then?” Cassandra prompted.
“And then I shall dance with Lord Radmere.”
“Who is that?” Portia asked.
“Merely the largest collector of antique jewelry in all of Britain. It will drive the marquis mad to see his family heirloom being admired by Radmere.”
Cassandra sighed. “It sounds like a good plan, but I—”
“Oh dear, the time! I must be off!” Honoria gave her reflection one last glance and then she dropped a kiss on the cheeks of each of her sisters and gave George a quick hug. “Wish me luck, my dears. I go to war, you know. Not a ball.”
“Pull anchor and heave the sails!” Olivia said, giving her sister a mock salute. “Canvas well!”
Portia grabbed up the poker by the fireplace and held it aloft like a sword. “For God and country!”
Georgie held a startled Achilles over his head. “Take no quarter!”
Olivia laughed. “Win, Honoria. And if there is some cake at the ball… perhaps you can wrap some up and put it in your reticule?” She rubbed her hands together, a beatific smile on her face. “I do so love cake.”
“I shall do what I can. Now good night, my pretties. Don’t wait up.” With a flip of her hand and a smile, Honoria set out to make certain the annoying Marquis of Treymount did not forget that she possessed something he wanted very, very badly.
Marcus walked into the foyer of Treymount House, smoothing the sleeve of his evening coat. “Jeffries, has the carriage been brought around?”
Jeffries’s usually stern countenance almost froze into a grimace. “Ah… no, my lord.”
Marcus paused. “No?” he said softly. “Did I not request it?” The butler glanced uncertainly at the door behind Marcus. “Yes, you did. However, I can explain, my lord.”
Marcus raised his brows.
“Do not bum Jeffries with one of your fierce looks,” came a laughing voice from behind Marcus.
He turned to find Brandon standing in the entryway. “Well, a visit from one of my esteemed brothers.”
Brandon’s amused expression faded, confusion evident on his face. “What—”
“Nothing.” What was wrong with him that he was snapping at everyone? “Have you talked to Anthony?”
“Not since Thursday. Why? Should I—”
“No, no.” Marcus managed a smile, leading the way to the library. “Never mind. I am just at odds this evening. So tell me, brother of mine, is it your fault my carriage is not yet ready?”
“Yes, it is. I came to ask for your assistance, but I can see you are on your way out—” Brandon’s eyes widened and he came to a sudden halt. “You are dressed in formal attire. Did someone die?”
“No. I am on my way to a ball.”
“I thought you gave up on social occasions years ago.”
There it was, that hint that something was wrong with him. Marcus had to count to ten before he replied, “I do get invited out, you know. I have never been a hermit.”
“Yes, but you so rarely accept any of the hundreds of invitations that come your way. I don’t think I’ve seen you dressed in such a manner in months.”
“Did you want something?” Marcus asked, beyond irritated. He glanced at his reflection in the wide mirror over the large fireplace that graced one end of the library and adjusted his cravat. First Anthony and now Brandon. It was annoying, but… Marcus sighed. Perhaps he
should
listen a bit more closely; they were his brothers, after all.
Jeffries held up the evening coat. “My lord?”
Marcus waved him away. “I shall not be leaving immediately. Brandon, stay; have a seat.”
Brandon waited until Jeffries had closed the door before facing Marcus. “I hate to do this but… I must ask a favor. Verena’s father is in trouble.”
“How unfortunate. I don’t see how that affects either of us, but Mr. Landsdowne has my sympathies.”
Brandon frowned. “Marcus, it’s not that simple. I must go and see what I can do to fix the situation. He apparently ran afoul of the local authorities and then took an illness. I must sort out the paperwork and then get him back to England.”
“Why must you do such a thing?” Marcus poured two glasses of port and carried one to Brandon. “He’s not your father, after all. I believe he has several other daughters, and a son, too, if I remember correctly.”
Exasperation crossed Brandon’s face. “It’s Verena’s father, which makes him my responsibility as well as hers. If you were married, you would understand—”
“If I was married—” Somewhere in the back of his memory, he could almost hear Anthony’s voice accusing him of being judgmental. He took a sip of port and then made himself comfortable in a chair by the gentle crackle of the fire. “I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn. As you were saying?”
Brandon blinked as if surprised. After a moment, he shook his head and settled into the chair opposite Marcus’s. “I don’t think you understand. I know what my responsibilities are, even if you don’t.”
“Hm. Is Verena’s father of age?”
“Of course he is.”
“Is he incapacitated in any way?”
“He is ill, though not fatally so.”
“So he can speak rationally?”
“Yes.”
Marcus shrugged. “Then let him take care of his own situation.”
Brandon flushed. “Damn it, Marcus! If you had someone— anyone—in your life, then you’d understand how it is.”
Marcus cut a sharp glance at his brother. Bloody hell, did everyone think him a monster? “Brandon, I do have someone in my life. I have you and Chase and Devon and Anthony and all of your wives and your children. That is enough for me. But you must do what you think is necessary. I’m not sure what you need from me, but I will assist you in any way I can. You know that.”
Some of the stiffness left Brandon’s shoulders. “Thank you, Marcus. I didn’t mean—”
“Forget it. What do you need?”
“Well, to begin with, I need to borrow your traveling chaise and the coach. I ordered one weeks ago, but it is not yet ready and the one we have now is not sufficient. The springs are weak and it sways far too much to carry an ill man.”
“You need both the coach and the chaise?”
“Verena’s sisters and mother will be coining, as well. Between all of them and their luggage—”
“Are you fetching the lot of them here?”
Brandon nodded. “Indeed. I hope to be gone only for a week or two, but…” He caught Marcus’s expression and added tersely, “I’m certain it will not be for long.”
Marcus raised his brows. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you looked—” Brandon ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself.”