Lady in Red (26 page)

“Are you certain you won’t stay for breakfast?” Honoria asked, suddenly feeling… lost.

He shut the box with a snap. “No, thank you. But I shall have my man of business contact you about how best to settle our wager.”

Honoria dipped a curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. I shall look forward to it.”

His eyes darkened at her prim manner. “You are a cheeky wench.”

Cassandra gasped, but Honoria just grinned. “Only when I win.”

He leaned forward, his blue eyes hard and unyielding. “Then I shall have to see to it that you do not win too often.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but Cassandra chose that moment to say, “My lord, thank you for your assistance. I hope escorting me will not be too much effort.”

The marquis turned to Cassandra, and it seemed to Honoria that his expression softened ever so slightly as he bowed. “It will be a pleasure.”

Color suffused Cassandra’s face. Honoria should have been pleased; certainly such gallantry was a step in the right direction. But for some reason she could not help feeling a flash of pure, raw envy.

Unaware that he was raising such unworthy emotions in her breast, the marquis smiled at Cassandra before sending Honoria one last fulminating look. Then turning on his heel he left.

As soon as he was out of sight, Juliet threw her arms into the air and gave a huge whoop. “We won! We won!” She grabbed George and swung him around, much to his chagrin.

Cassandra smiled at Honoria. “What a lovely morning it has become.”

“It is one of the best,” Honoria agreed, linking her arm through her sister’s. “But it will be even better Slice I’ve had my breakfast. For some reason, I’m famished.”

“Winning will do that to you,” Cassandra agreed. “Come, everyone. Let’s have breakfast.”

Chapter 13

So then I played the jack… or was it the queen? Either way, it was an error, for that harridan trumped me immediately. So then I played my ten. No, wait… it was an eight. But that was a poor choice, too. Over and over she won. She must have cheated, for you know how I am at cards. I do not like to brag, but I have a memory of steel and I never forget who is holding what.

Lord Edmund Valmont to Miss Clarissa Ridgethorpe, while strolling the hedgerows at Vauxhall under the strict supervision of Miss Ridgethorpe’s mama

“You did what?”

Marcus took a drink of his port in an effort to cover his irritation. Why had he told Anthony about the wager?
Why?
“I am not repeating myself.”

“Good, because I don’t think I would believe it even if you did.” Anthony shook his head, his tawny locks making him look like a disgruntled lion. “How on earth did Honoria Baker-Sneed get you to agree to such a thing?”

How? She’d sat there on the carriage seat, her rich chest-nut hair tumbling about her shoulders, that intriguing streak of white at her temple, and then she’d fixed those large, hazel eyes on him with a look of utter disdain. He had to bite back a strange desire to smile at the memory.

That’s all it had taken. He’d been so ripe for a taste of her; it was a good thing that all she
had
asked for was a simple wager. Marcus wasn’t certain he’d have been able to say nay regardless of what she’d asked. Why, it was the thought of her that had made him soften toward Lord Melton, a fact Mr. Donaldson was still muttering about beneath his breath.

Marcus smiled, thinking of Honoria as she’d been this very morning, arrayed for battle, all pale and tense, the wind toying with the edges of her skirts. He’d wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms and kiss away the frown that rested on her brow. It was strange indeed that he was becoming so quixotic so late in his life. Why was that? he wondered. Did it have to do with the way Honoria tossed out challenges with her very breath? Or was it something far more simple? Like… chivalry?

The thought almost made him choke, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could even breathe again. Catching Anthony’s inquiring glance, Marcus said hastily, “She offered the wager and I accepted. That’s all there was to it.”

“And then she beat you? At archery?”

“Yes.” He frowned. He still wasn’t quite certain how that had happened. Of course, the wind had been blowing quite hard, and that could have made his arrows fly to the side, but… he could have sworn he’d seen the target move. Perhaps that had been the work of the wind as well.

Whatever it was, he hadn’t paid it as much attention as he should have—he’d been far too engrossed in watching Honoria shoot. She’d never looked lovelier, her hair touched by the morning sun, her eyes reflecting the green of the garden, her slender body as she drew the arrow—

“Perhaps she cheated.”

Marcus frowned. “She would never cheat. She is not the type.”

Anthony eyed him a moment, a slow smile touching his mouth. “I think you’ve gone mad. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“Mad? Why? If I’d won this morning, I would have mother’s ring back. It was a perfectly sane wager.”

“I think you’re mad because in the grand scheme of life, seven thousand pounds isn’t that much to you, and you’d have already had mother’s ring if you’d just loosened up your purse strings a bit. No, there’s another reason you didn’t want to just pay the funds. And I think it has to do with that woman.” Anthony’s brown eyes sparkled. “I think you’re intrigued with her.”

Marcus wondered how he’d even allowed himself to have this conversation with Anthony. But… there was something in what his brother said. He couldn’t remember ever being so fascinated by a woman. Never. Not to the point of agreeing to something as childish as an archery contest.

He caught Anthony’s considering gaze and lied, “Perhaps I’d had a bit too much to drink.”

Anthony grunted, leaning his large frame back in the chair and regarding Marcus through half closed eyes. Anthony always looked sleepy, especially when he was considering something.

Before his brother could come to any more incorrect conclusions, Marcus poured himself another spot of port, refilling Anthony’s glass at the same time. “There,” Marcus said, pushing the glass across the table. “Drink that and stop looking at me as if I’ve spouted two heads.”

Anthony took the drink. “I wasn’t thinking that at all. In fact, I was thinking that perhaps your head has finally moved to where it should have been all along.”

“Oh? Where’s that?”

“Connected to your heart.”

Marcus frowned. “That is the second time in less than two weeks you have suggested I am coldhearted.”

Anthony hesitated. “Coldhearted is too severe of a word. Actually, I rather think it is an instance of pride. You have been inordinately successful, and due to your standing in the family, weighted with a lot of responsibility. I think it has come to you so naturally that you forget other people have different capabilities, different interests.”

Marcus clenched his jaw a moment. It was not pleasant to hear such things, especially from a brother. “I am not cold-hearted, nor am I so eaten with pride that I no longer care for my fellow man.”

“You wouldn’t really notice it if you were, would you? That’s rather the nature of such an affliction. You have a tendency to see things through a rather unemotional filter.”

Marcus looked down at his glass, at the golden amber liquid that sparkled there. Damn it, there was something in what Anthony was saying. Not a lot, but… something. Marcus’s mind wandered to the Baker-Sneed home. There had been plenty of evidence that the family was having financial difficulties, and yet the home felt… warm, somehow. Warm and comfortable. He’d been aware of a sense of familial support the very second his booted feet had crossed the threshold.

His own house, meanwhile… He glanced about the huge library. Two stories tall with shelves from ceiling to floor and a narrow balcony rimming the entire room, it was a thing of beauty. He’d paid a fortune to have a mural painted on the ceiling by an Italian with a penchant for plump angels and scantily clad graces. A long, narrow ladder was fixed to a metal track so that one could access the balcony from any part of the room, and thus the second level of books, with the greatest of ease. It was a beautiful room, impressive even. But it still lacked something. The truth was, it felt a little like a museum rather than a home.

The really irksome question was, he supposed, was it just his house that felt so barren of feeling? Or was it more? Was it possible that it was
he
who was so without warmth and compassion? Had he forgotten his own humanity in his quest to secure the family fortune?

He imagined Honoria this morning, pale and determined, her hands shaking ever so slightly. She’d wanted so badly to win. And not for herself, but for her sister. She’d put her honor and pride on the line. What had he put? Nothing, really. A few moments of his time and… that was it. And he’d complained about even that.

“Marcus?” Anthony’s dark gaze rested on Marcus’s face. “What is it?”

He sighed. “I was just thinking of what you said.”

“And?”

Marcus shrugged. “Nothing. I am sure it’s just a momentary flicker of humanity, one sure to pass if I will but allow it.”

Anthony sighed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t. But you have made me think. May we now speak of something else? Something more interesting?”

“Of course. Shall we discuss how you’re going to woo the lovely Cassandra?” A tremor of laughter warmed Anthony’s voice.

Marcus regarded his brother with a flat gaze. “I am not going to woo her. I am merely going to pay her some attention. Everyone will then begin to gossip and the chit’s feet will be set on the path of social success. Or so Miss Honoria would have me believe.”

“I really must spend some time with this Miss Honoria. She seems like quite a woman. A goddess, in fact.”

“That’s funny—” Marcus shook his head.

“What?” Anthony raised his brows.

“Nothing really. It’s just that… I called her Diana because she looks so like the statue residing in the Elgin marble collection at the museum. But she objected so I suppose I really must cease.”

“Diana the huntress? The one who carries a bow and arrows?” Anthony’s lips quivered. “How appropriate.”

That’s exactly what he thought, as well. Only… as much as he hated to admit, it wasn’t Honoria who was hunting. In all honesty, it had been him from the beginning. He was becoming more and more earnest in his desire to possess her. Not just in the carnal way, though that thought was precious indeed, but in other ways as well. He wanted to understand her, to know why she thought what she did, why she was the way she was.

And most of all, he wanted to know why just the sight of her made his life seem… brighter somehow. It was just possible that, while paying court to Honoria’s sister, he would find the answers to his questions.

It was odd, but as of two weeks ago, he would have sworn that his life was perfect. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Oh, he had some wonderful things in his life, he didn’t doubt that. His family, his estates, even Treymount House were all areas of great satisfaction for him. But how could he find that flicker of warmth that seemed to imbue all of the Baker-Sneeds? Was it Honoria who caused such a transformation of the plain to the wonderful? Perhaps she—

He sat up a little straighter, realizing how serious his thoughts were. Bloody hell, if he continued like this, he’d be marrying the chit, and what a fiasco that would be. What had gotten into him that he was losing sight of what was really important?

“Why are you scowling all of a sudden?”

Marcus collected himself, wishing Anthony wasn’t quite so damned observant. “I was just thinking that perhaps I should avoid seeing any more of Miss Baker-Sneed.”

Anthony’s dark eyes fixed on Marcus. “Surely not! That would be a mistake indeed.”

“No, it wouldn’t. In fact, it would be the most prudent thing to do.”

“Hm.” Anthony regarded him for a long moment. “Perhaps you are afraid of her. She has forced you to break down that wall you were building—”

“While you have outstayed your welcome.” Marcus stood. “It has been a lovely hour, but I have matters to attend to, none of them having anything to do with you.”

Anthony grinned, but he placed his glass on the corner of the desk and stood. “Fine. Do as you will. Just realize this: you are playing against fate if you think to avoid the woman the talisman ring has led you to.”

“For the love of—I do not believe that silly ring has any powers.”

“Well I believe it,” Anthony said quietly. “And before this is all over, you will, too.” With that cryptic comment, he winked, turned on his heel, and left.

Marcus refilled his glass, grumbling to himself as he did so. Why was he saddled with such a brother? One who took such delight in plaguing him to death about the most ridiculous things. The ring had power… ha! He wasn’t so wet behind the ears as to believe that.

And yet… the ring
had
been in each of his brothers’ possessions when they’d found their true loves, so perhaps— No. That was ludicrous. Still, just to be on the safe side, he’d avoid being with Miss Baker-Sneed. At least for a while. With that thought firmly in mind, he returned to the stack of waiting letters that graced his desk and tried to lose himself in his work.