Lady in Red (16 page)

She stiffened and flashed him a look of such intensity that for an instant he would have paid to have her alone. Bloody hell, but she was a woman of outstanding passion. Of verve and energy and something else that called to him. He was not used to a woman who possessed such strong opinions. The women he knew simpered and smiled and agreed with whatever he said. -

But this woman was not accommodating and she was far from impressed with his title and possessions. Which had the strange effect of making him want to touch her all the more. To taste her. To sweep her into his bed and prove to her once and for all who was the master here. For it was not her.

So long as he had breath in his body, it would
never
be her.

Her eyes sparkled green fire. “My lord, I have but one thing to say to you. Never underestimate a woman intent on making a profit. I will have the money I desire for this ring. And I will not sell it to you unless you agree to my request— all of it. I will give you the rest of the week to think on it, and then…” She smiled, a pleased, none-too-nice smile, one he rarely saw on a female’s lips. “And then it will be gone, lost to you forever.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, through the crowd and out the door, leaving Marcus standing at the side of the room. He should have been furious, but instead he found himself strangely pleased. So pleased that he even stayed through two more dances and did his duty to the daughter of the house by dancing with her, and even that painful experience didn’t put a dent in his solidly good mood. For if there was one thing Marcus enjoyed, it was a challenge. And Miss Honoria was proving to be all that and more.

Chapter 9

See that woman standing by the refreshment table not looking our way? No, not the one in pink; the one in green. Miss Heneford may seem to be uninterested in me, and indeed, that is what she wishes me to think. A lesser man would fall for such an obvious ploy. And a much lesser man would charge ahead, spurred by the challenge she threw when she pretended she could not recall my name upon meeting me again on arriving this very evening. Fortunately, I am not a lesser man. I refuse to rise to such pitiful maneuvering. Instead of attempting to gain her attention, I shall stand here and wait. She will come, see if she does not.

Lord Southland to his friend and acquaintance, Mr. Cabot-Hewes, while not looking at the refreshment table at Carlton House

Honoria sat alone at the breakfast table. She’d startled the servants by arising so early that she almost beat the sun. Mrs. Kemble had hurried to rouse the cook and get breakfast set out on the wide buffet. Honoria, her mind sunk in thought, had not noticed. She’d accepted the pot of steaming tea and Mrs. Kemble’s assurances that breakfast would be forthcoming. Then she’d sat at the long table, staring at the talisman ring. -

It sat snuggly on her finger, glimmering in the morning light. Strange, but it had seemed brighter at the ball, shimmering as if set with diamonds. But here, in the breakfast room, it cast off just a faint shimmer, as if it was as sleepy as she. For a moment Honoria allowed herself to remember the dance she’d shared with the marquis. Though she was loath to admit it, he was an excellent dancer. She wondered if he thought her awkward. After all, she hadn’t had much practice, and the steps, though familiar, had been difficult and—

Oh for the love of—what was she thinking? Who cared what the marquis thought? She certainly didn’t. She rubbed the ring absently, smiling a little when she noticed that it glowed a bit more brightly now.

Mrs. Kemble entered the room with a huge platter. Soon the buffet table was piled with silver trays. “There ye are, Miss Baker-Sneed! Shall I call the others?”

A thumping sound on the steps precluded Honoria from answering.

Mrs. Kemble chuckled. “Never mind. There they are now.” She retired through the servant’s door to fetch another jar of marmalade.

The wide paneled door to the breakfast room flew open. “Well?” Portia was still tying her sash, her hair hastily braided and pinned. Panting from her dash down the steps, she planted herself before Honoria. “Tell us everything!”

Olivia plopped into a seat at the far end, hiking the chair so it faced Honoria more squarely. “Cassandra would not allow us to stay up to meet you when you returned, and we must know what happened.”

Juliet and Cassandra entered together. Juliet frowned at Olivia. “You promised you wouldn’t ask anything until Cassandra and I arrived.”

Olivia blinked. “Did I say that?”

“Yes, not two minutes ago on the stairwell.”

Olivia looked at Honoria and gave an awkward smile. “Oh.”

Cassandra took the seat next to Honoria. “I thought you would be too tired to talk when you returned, so I sent them all to bed.”

“You were right,” Honoria said, taking a bracing sip of tea. “I was tired. And much too exhausted to talk.” Which was a complete falsehood. Had she really been tired, then once she’d pulled on her night rail, tied her hair into a braid, and slipped between the covers, she would have immediately fallen into a deep sleep. But as it was, she’d lain awake, hour after hour, rethinking her conversation with the marquis.

George wandered in, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He sniffed the air, then grinned. “Mmmm! Brisket!” He was at the buffet before anyone could reply, pulling the cover off of a large silver salver.

Honoria pretended to be busy with the teapot. She could not shake the thought that she’d erred last night. Why had she allowed her wretched temper to get away from her? Blast it, she’d probably put the man into such a passion of disapproval that he would rather be tied to a wild bull than buy the ring from her for anything near a decent price.

Olivia leaned over to see what was on George’s plate. “Did you leave any brisket for the rest of us?”

He grinned. “A little.”

She cuffed him on the shoulder. “You are such a pig.”

“Honoria?” Cassandra’s gentle brow folded with worry. “You look fatigued. Was the evening difficult?”

Olivia mussed George’s hair as she went by him to the sideboard. “Honoria can’t be tired; she returned fairly early. The hall clock had barely chimed one.”

“One?” Portia poured a dollop of crème into her tea. “Is that all?”

Juliet selected a piece of toasted bread and placed it in the center of her plate. “All Honoria wanted to do was speak with the marquis about the ring. That shouldn’t have taken much time.”

Portia sniffed. “If
I
had been at the ball, I wouldn’t have left until the very last dance.” She frowned at Juliet’s plate. “Just one piece of toast?”

Juliet poked at it with her fork and wrinkled her nose. “I read about a new reducing diet in the
Morning Post.”

Cassandra frowned. “You only eat toast?”

“Oh no. I can have a boiled potato in vinegar for lunch and a little—a
very
little—lamb for dinner. But nothing more.”

Portia rose from her chair. “I, for one, am not going to reduce. Whatever man I find will just have to take me the way I am, large or thin.”

Olivia cut a piece of bacon. “All you need is a wealthy, titled man who will accept a slightly plump, poor woman as a potential bride.”

Juliet giggled. “Now that’s a lovely plan; I really don’t see how it could fail.”

Portia sniffed again. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Not in real life,” Juliet said, cutting her toast into tiny pieces and spreading it out so that it filled her plate.

“What do you know about real life?” Portia picked up a plate and began to fill it. “Notice that I didn’t say the wealthy man had to be handsome. If I’m not, I don’t expect him to be. That’s only fair.”

Olivia looked up at that “Fair? You expect him to be wealthy and you’re not. What’s fair about that?”

“Yes, but I can have children. Therefore, I bring my own value to the marriage. The least he can do is possess enough of an income for our family to live comfortably.”

Olivia curled her nose. “You would sell yourself as a breeding machine?”

“Only for a very large sum of money,” Portia said calmly.

“And it’s not as if I don’t like children; I love them. I hope to have ten or eleven, at the least, wealthy husband or no.”

Cassandra held up a hand. “Oh enough! We were talking about Honoria’s evening.” Cassandra turned to her oldest sister and smiled. “Well?”

“There’s not a lot to tell, really,” Honoria said. “I saw the marquis and… I made certain he saw me with Radmere.” Cassandra looked at her, so much hope in her eyes that Honoria almost winced. Surely her stubbornness hadn’t challenged Treymount into some sort of rash action they would all regret. Not that he seemed like a rash man… but there was no doubting his pride. He wore that on his sleeve for one and all to see.

“Honoria?” Cassandra leaned forward. “Was the marquis… what did he say?”

Say? He’d said a lot of things. Honoria glanced around the table and found every eye upon her. “He said… he said… He didn’t really say anything.”

Portia blinked in amazement. “Surely he said
something.”

He had, of course. He’d pretty much said he’d be damned before he gave her one pence for the ring. Honoria bit her lip. She couldn’t tell that to Cassandra. “I think I made some progress, though time will tell how much.”

Cassandra appeared relieved. “Excellent! What exactly happened?”

“Oh…” Honoria waved her hand in the air. “We spoke. I let him know how things were to be with the ring. We danced—”

“Danced?” Cassandra exchanged a glance with Portia. “Well!”

“Everyone was dancing; it was nothing special. Anyway, after the dance, we talked some more and then I left.” She shrugged. “We shall discover today if anything I said made an impression. He will either come to claim the ring or—”

She bit her lip. “Or he will not show up and we will be forced to sell it elsewhere.”

“To whom?” Juliet looked hungrily at Portia’s overly full plate. “Who else might want the St. John talisman ring?”

“Everyone would want it,” Portia said calmly. “It’s magical.”

George looked up from his plate, his eyes wide. “Magical?”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Honoria said automatically. She turned her attention back to Portia. “That’s nonsense. I informed Lord Radmere I was in possession of the St. John ring last night. I believe
he
would pay dearly to possess it.”

“Dearly?” Cassandra asked, a question in her violet eyes.

“He has no love for the marquis. I could wrest a pretty penny from him, though nowhere near as much as Treymount could afford to pay.”

“Then we had best hope that the marquis comes through,” Cassandra said. “And if he doesn’t, we’ll use Lord Radmere as our emergency plan.”

Honoria nodded, although… she really hated to think of giving the ring to anyone other than the marquis. It had been his mother’s, after all. But if he was not willing to help her with the simplest of requests… what choice did she have?

“I suppose we will be staying home today, then,” Portia said, sighing. “And waiting on the marquis. I had so hoped to visit the new silks warehouse Mrs. Tremble and her daughter mentioned.” She sent a hurried glance at Honoria. “Not that I would buy anything! I just want to look.”

Honoria shrugged. “There is no reason to wait here just in case the marquis decides to grace us with his presence. Besides, I want to view the Elgin marbles at the British Museum.”

Juliet poked at her uneaten toast. “Again? You have been to see them a dozen times already.”

Yes, but she’d never before paid much heed to the presentation Treymount had mentioned, the one of Diana. Was that the statue of a chubby woman, the one with thick thighs and heavy hips? Certainly there’d been some Greek statues that had portrayed women in just that manner. “It’s been a week since I last went. Besides, I haven’t visited the Elgin marble exhibit in over a month; I’ve paid far more attention to the new display from China. Portia, you might like that. It is chock full of silks of all kinds and some of the most glorious embroidery I’ve ever seen.”

Everyone seemed to love the idea of going to the museum, except George, who declared that he’d rather be eaten alive by whales than visit a musty old building to look at stones and cloth. Honoria smiled absently and let her family talk and tease all around her. The sounds rose and fell like waves against a sea wall, but she didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to think of what she’d do if the marquis didn’t come to make her a new offer for the ring.

Honoria came to stand beside Cassandra where she was admiring a marble frieze, a large piece of the Elgin marbles. “They are so lovely.” Lord Elgin was once ambassador to Greece. While there, he procured a large number of marble pieces from the Parthenon, which was being dismantled and sold to the highest bidder. When Elgin ran into ill fortune, he’d offered the marbles to the British government.

“I believe this is Hera,” Cassandra said, her eyes shining with admiration. “If I could be a Greek goddess, I’d like to be her.”

“Really?” Honoria looked at the next frieze, bending forward and squinting. It showed a rather athletic woman wearing a scandalously low drapery and leaning back against a divan. “If I had to wear so little clothing, I should take an ague.” Honoria shivered. “It’s always so chilled in here. Between that and the poor lighting it is no wonder this place is nearly empty today.”